Stepping forward cautiously, for they looked rather bloodthirsty today, she spread her hands to show she meant no harm. “What has happened? I… I can feel that something has gone wrong.”
Something moved in the guards’ eyes. “An attack,” one of them finally growled. “By your people.”
Clara frowned. “My people?”
“Humans,” the other ones spat. “We keep to ourselves, leaving the village only to hunt at night, and yet they are determined to hunt us to extinction.”
Clara didn’t know what to say, twisting her fingers nervously. She had no idea there was a group of humans hunting the shifters, but if that were the case it would explain their animosity toward the human race. Biting her lip, she wondered if she should try to go into the village or not.
“There she is!” a female voice cried, and Clara turned, startled, to see a woman standing several yards away, pointing an accusing finger at her. She was tall and willowy, with inky black hair that flowed to her hips. Her blue eyes glowed with hatred, and her otherwise pretty mouth was twisted into a sneer. “The filthy human responsible for the attack last night!”
“What?” Clara took a step back. “I had nothing to do…”
“How do we know that’s not true?” A man stepped forward beside the woman. “You could have easily told them of our location. We hunted very close to home last night, and they still managed to find us. Three dead, five severely wounded.”
More clan members came out to hurdle accusations at her, and Clara began to tremble violently as their voices rose, tears filling her eyes. She’d never felt such intense animosity being sent her way before, and didn’t know what to do with it. She knew she was innocent, but these people didn’t seem to want to listen to reason—rather they were looking for an outlet for their anger, grief and frustration, and she was the perfect target.
“We should kill her!” another man shouted, stepping forward with his teeth bared and his fist rose. “The humans kill us with abandon, so why shouldn’t we take one of their own in exchange for the lives lost!”
“If you lay a hand on her, your life is the one that will be lost.” Kellan stepped out from the crowds and gripped the man’s outstretched arm. The crowd froze, all shouts and cries ceasing instantly, but the man did not back down despite the precarious position he suddenly found himself facing.
“And what of my wife and her unborn children?” the man demanded, and Clara’s heart clenched at the pain in his voice, at the tears suddenly shining in his furious gaze. “What of their lives? Do they mean nothing to you?”
Kellan released the man’s arm and squeezed his shoulder sympathetically. “You know that isn’t true,” he said softly. “But Clara is destined to be my mate, and it falls to me or the Alpha to mete out any punishment she deserves. However,” he said, raising his voice so that it was clear he was addressing the rest of the crowd, “I would ask you all to remember we are not barbarians, and we do not punish or put to death anyone without proof they are deserving of it first. Or are we to prove the humans right, who think we are demons and barbarians to be expunged from this earth?”
He met the eyes of each individual member of the crowd, who were all quick to look down. Mutters spread throughout their ranks, but eventually they began to dissipate. The man who had threatened to kill Clara gave her one last fulminating look, then turned on his heel to join them.
As Kellan turned to Clara, she noticed that his shirt was stained with blood at the shoulder, and gasped, rushing forward. “You’ve been hurt!”
Kellan glanced down, and then winced as Clara grabbed his arm. “It’s alright,” he said, prying her fingers from his forearm and then tugging her along. “Let’s go back to my cabin.”
He stopped by the communal well for a bucket of water, then led her indoors. Clara watched as he stripped his shirt off, revealing tawny skin poured over muscles. The hair that dusted his chest lightly failed to obscure the scars on his body—three jagged claw marks slashing across his side, and what looked like a nasty bite wound on his left shoulder. She blushed despite herself, having never seen the naked chest of a man before. The thick, bloodstained cloth bandage circled around his right shoulder and beneath his arm.
He took out some more cloth and then reached up to pull of the bandage, but Clara stepped up and laid her hands on the bandage before he could. “Let me,” she said softly.
Kellan blinked, his hands stilling at the compassion and… guilt in her eyes? “Unless you actually did betray our location, this isn’t your fault,” he said gruffly. “You don’t need to feel obligated to tend me.”
Annoyance flashed briefly in her eyes, and then she sighed. “I did no such thing, but the fact that humans did this to you makes me feel ashamed,” she said as she removed the bandage carefully from his shoulder. “Plus, I may as well make myself useful since it is obvious that no one outside will want to have anything to do with me right now.”
“I’m sorry about that,” Kellan said, trying to ignore the tingles running through his body as her delicate fingers brushed his skin. He held himself very still as she cleaned the dried blood away from his wound. “We are distrustful of humans to begin with, and incidents like this only make it worse.”
“I can imagine.” Clara finished cleaning the wound, and then gasped, her eyes going wide. “This… this is almost healed!”
Kellan chuckled. “Shifters tend to heal very quickly.”
“How fortunate.” Clara took a fresh cloth and redressed the wound. “It seems as though you won’t be needing this for very long, after all.”
He took her hands in his, brushing the knuckles softly with the pads of his thumbs. “Even so, thank you for doing it.”
Clara opened her mouth to respond, but she couldn’t find any words—her senses seemed to have gone into overload at being in close proximity to him. She was hyper-aware of everything about him—the touch of his hands against hers, the powerful thigh muscles pressed against her hips, the way his eyes locked with hers. She was drowning in the depths of his irises, and taking a deep breath, was drawn closer to him by the mix of spice and musk that was his scent.
“Clara,” Kellan murmured, recognizing the dilation of her pupils and the racing of her heart rate for what it was—similar to her reaction when she was lying, but he could smell the scent of a woman’s desire along with it. Her reaction was inevitable—the mating bond would push them together into completing the ritual regardless of their personal feelings for one another.
“I shouldn’t be this close to you,” she said softly, but made no move to get away from him. “I don’t know anything about you at all.” Her lips hovered a scant inch from his.
“No, you don’t,” he agreed, but his voice sounded distant, as though it were coming from another room, perhaps even another place entirely. “And I know nothing about you.”
They stood there for a long time, Kellan holding himself rigid, knowing that even the tiniest movement could send him tumbling over the edge of temptation. It was the hardest thing he’d ever done, resisting a woman when her body was practically offering itself up to him. But through her hooded eyes, through the desire lurking there, he could see her internal struggle, and he knew she needed to make the choice. He refused to take advantage of her.
Eventually, Clara stepped back with a sigh, pulling her hands away from him. “I think it might be best if you put a shirt on. I can’t seem to think very clearly right now.”
Despite his sexual frustration, he couldn’t help but laugh. “You have no idea what words like that do for a man’s ego,” he told her, getting up and retrieving a shirt from the wooden trunk at the foot of his bed.
“I’m sure you don’t need to be told that you’re very handsome, Kellan,” she told him as she sat down on the edge of the bed, but there was a thread of amusement beneath her brisk tone.
“And I’m sure you don’t need to be told that you’re beautiful,” he said after he’d pulled a new shirt on.
Cla
ra smiled, but this time there was an edge of bitterness to it. “Such a flirt. You remind me of the men who used to request my company. They were far too easy with compliments, although I knew their only real interest in me was the inheritance that I was due.”
“Your inheritance?” Kellan frowned.
“My father was an earl. He’d inherited a rather poor estate from my grandfather, who had been a heavy drinker and gambler, but had a fine head for business and had been in the process of renewing the family fortune. Unfortunately, he was a very strong supporter of the King, and because of that our family was attacked by a group of rebels who are very upset with the current regime. All our money and belongings were taken, and our house burned to the ground.”
Kellan’s heart clenched at the pain in Clara’s voice. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I’m sure you’ve heard the words a thousand times, and I know they don’t take the pain away. Is that why you came out here?”
“My aunt offered to take me in. It was a better alternative to being forced into life as a companion or a governess.” Clara shook her head. “Sometimes I still wonder if this is all a dream—if I will wake up and find myself back in my bed on my father’s estate, listening to the birds singing outside my window. I’d get dressed and go downstairs to find my father reading the morning paper at the breakfast table and my mother sewing.” Her throat tightened with tears, and she looked down, finding herself unable to speak any more.
“I wouldn’t know what that kind of life is like,” Kellan admitted, “but I do know what it’s like to lose your parents. A few years ago, both of my parents were slaughtered by hunters. For a long time I couldn’t get a handle on my grief and I allowed it to consume me. But I realized that I was dishonoring their memory by throwing my life away…by not treasuring every moment…every second.”
“I’m so sorry, Kellan,” Clara whispered, feeling the connection between them now, more than ever. “I’m surprised you can stand to look at me, never mind any other human.”
“If you and I had come together right after my parents had died, I wouldn’t have been able to. And even now it’s not easy… but my instincts tell me you’re not one of them, and I’ve always trusted my instincts.”
The desire in his words washed over her and Clara stood, nervously. “I… perhaps it would be best if you walked me back to the entrance now. I know I’m not welcome here on a good day, and that today, after your people have been attacked, is even worse. Perhaps I should come back in a few days.”
Kellan nodded. “I don’t think it would be good for either of us for you to miss a few days. You were supposed to come yesterday, too.” And he’d been unreasonably disappointed when she hadn’t shown up.
Clara lowered her eyes. “I was seen by one of my neighbors on my way to the forest, who asked me to join them for a ride. I couldn’t get away without the risk of being followed. It’s possible it might happen again, and there isn’t much I can do about it save for coming at night”
Kellan nodded. “I’ll walk you out.”
* * *
The next day Eve did not take her usual afternoon nap—she declared loudly that they were very behind on the chores and the winter preparation for the house, and so she and Clara ran themselves ragged. By the time night had fallen, Clara was so exhausted that she fell into a mercifully dreamless sleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, and didn’t wake until her aunt finally shook her awake.
Still, the good night’s sleep put her in a relatively cheery mood, and she whistled through the day’s work. They finished up the winter chores, and by the time mid-afternoon rolled around her aunt was ready for a nap again.
“Go enjoy yourself, Clara,” she said, and Clara noticed that her face seemed a bit pale. “I just need a bit of rest.”
As soon as Clara stepped outside, she noticed Lucas walking toward the house. It looked as though he had a slight limp, his shoulders slumped, and his steps careful.
“Well, hello,” he smiled, his eyes bright. “It’s been a few days, so I thought I’d drop by. What are you up to?”
Clara raised her eyebrows, but couldn’t help but smile. “I was just heading out for some fresh air. What happened?”
Lucas grimaced and pulled up his pant leg to show a bandage wrapped around his leg. “I had to lay low for a bit after I came away with this bit of nastiness—mother wouldn’t let me out of bed, never mind the house.”
“Oh, Lucas,” Clara breathed, “How did this happen?”
“Two of our newer dogs got into a fight, and I managed to place myself on the wrong end of a pair of jaws while trying to break it up,” he said. “Unfortunate, but thankfully not life-threatening. Hurt like nobody’s business.”
“I’m sure it did.” Clara frowned. “You really shouldn’t have walked all the way out here in your condition. That leg needs to heal.”
Lucas grinned. “I wanted to see you, but… oh,” he groaned. “I think I need to sit down for a bit.”
Clara took one of his arms and allowed him to lean some of his weight on her. “You’re a fool,” she scolded, a smile tugging at her lips as they made their way across the field.
“Well, I won’t deny that.” Lucas chuckled, his eyes locking onto Clara’s face. “I’m a fool for you.”
Chapter Seven
“Get lost in the maze yesterday?” Kellan asked as he met Clara at the village entrance.
She shook her head, frowning. “A friend of mine got hurt ... and so I spent the day with him.” And had used it to trap her into an afternoon of cards with not only him, but his siblings as well. She’d learned to play Whist and Cribbage, and had even won a few hands of the latter, though the men had teased her, saying that it was a good thing they weren’t playing for money or she would have been cleaned out.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Kellan took her hand and inhaled, expecting her sweet scent. He frowned when it came to him mixed with another, darker scent—a man’s scent. It must have been her friend she was talking about, and he was surprised to find his hackles rising; he didn’t like it one bit. Something in the back of his mind niggled, but he suspected his emotions were simply a product of the mating bond, and he brushed it off.
“Everything is very quiet today,” Clara murmured, looking around. There were few people outside, and yet she felt as if there were many more eyes on her. She caught a glimpse of someone peeking at her through a curtained window before the person pulled back, the curtains concealing them with a swish of floral-patterned cloth.
“Does your village ever have to go into town to buy supplies?”
Kellan blinked, looking down. “Why do you ask?”
Clara pointed at the curtains. “The pattern on those curtains is very modern—it looks like perhaps something bought in a merchant’s store rather than woven by hand.”
Kellan laughed. “My sister, Leah, would be pleased to hear you say that. She is the town seamstress and weaver, and most likely made the cloth for those. But we very rarely go into town for anything unless it is an item we absolutely cannot make on our own. We prefer to be self-sufficient. And the less frequent are trips, the less likely anyone can follow us back and discover our location.”
Clara nodded. “If your sister truly can do such things with her own two hands, I think I would like to meet her.”
“I was just going to take you to her.”
Leah’s cabin was only three buildings away from Kellan’s, and Clara could already tell from the outside that it belonged to a woman—the scent of baking bread wafting out from one of the open windows, the potted flowers in the sills and by the door, and the frilly curtains. Windows of a house were like the eyes of a human—you could look at or into them and see the soul residing within.
Kellan stepped up and, placing Clara slightly behind him, knocked on the door. It opened only seconds later to reveal a small, slender woman with dark, curly hair pulled back from a pretty face. Her eyes, the same brilliant green as her brother’s, smiled warmly at him, then t
urned curious as they settled on Clara. She wore a dress only a few shades lighter than her hair that was covered with an apron.
“Kellan.” Leah wrapped her arms around him, and Clara noticed that her sleeves had been rolled up to the elbows—likely to avoid coating them in the flour that dusted her hands. The exposed forearms were slender, but also muscular, and Clara imagined that Leah was probably a woman who could handle herself in an attack. Kellan hugged her back gently, not seeming to care that his shoulders were being dusted with flour. “It’s nice of you to stop by, and to bring your mate too.”
“I’m not his mate,” Clara blurted out before she could stop herself—she didn’t know why, but it seemed important for her to make that clear. “Or, at least not yet. I haven ‘t decided.”
Leah raised her eyebrows as she stepped back. “So Kellan has told me. Why don’t the two of you come inside? I have a loaf that’s going to burn, and another one that’s ready to be baked.
Clara followed Kellan inside the two-room cabin—one spacious area that had the kitchen and living area, and another room separated by the door she assumed was the bedroom. Leah moved past the counter, where a mound of dough was set out, and bent in front of the hearth to pull out the loaf. Her eyes were drawn to the loom set in the middle of the living area, where a woolen blanket seemed to be in the works. Her feet carried her over to it, and she allowed her fingers to play over the colorful threads.
She looked up to see Leah standing a few feet away, watching her. “It’s beautiful,” Clara told her.
Leah smiled slightly. “Still in the works, I’m afraid, but it’ll be a work to be proud of when I’m done with it. You’ve done weaving before?”
Clara shook her head. “I’ve only ever worked with a needle and thread—embroidery and some mending.”
Happily Ever Alpha Page 6
