The Devil's Pride (Wild Beasts Series)

by T. Birmingham

  “I know that, Alexia,” Devon said, blowing out a breath. So, no verbal sparring match? She could have kissed him for that concession, especially since she could sense by the tone of his voice that he was just as riled as Cam had been. “But you’ve got to trust us. It’s not safe for any of us to go off on our own. You, Cam, Mindy…doesn’t matter. There’s a lot going on that we don’t know anything about. But, I get it. Sometimes getting outside and letting go of some of that energy feels like the only sane solution there is.”

  She walked inside to grab the Gatorade off the counter in the small kitchenette, and she marveled for minute that Cam could cook in there. Devon got quiet on the other end, and she didn’t break the silence. She enjoyed the silence with Devon. She also enjoyed the conversation, and yes, even the protective side. Alexia just listened to his breath come in and out, and she realized that he might be doing the same. He might be listening to her breath, calming himself, and making sure she was really alive. Or not. She didn’t know if he cared about her in that way. He obviously cared, but did he care the way she wanted him to?

  “Alexia, what didn’t you tell Cam?”

  She sucked in a breath. She couldn’t tell him. Every part of her was screaming to come clean, to tell her Man Bear – who wasn’t really hers – what had happened, but there was a nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach, a gut feeling she couldn’t ignore. No, she wouldn’t be telling Devon what had really happened.

  “Devon—”

  “Cam knows these things,” he said, succinctly. “He thinks this is a cop thing, but he’s always just known things. Whereas I was in touch with my Luna side almost instantly, he has always been in touch with his Taryn side, even more strongly than anyone I’ve ever met. So when he senses you holding back, I believe it.”

  Alexia was quiet for a while. Should she tell him about Nicky and the other man who’d turned into a wolf? Should she say something about the Skröm? She didn’t want to worry anyone further, and she also didn’t actually know what had really happened. Had the two wolves just been protecting her? It had seemed that way in the end, but she didn’t really know that. And why would they protect her? Why had she recognized the other man?

  There were too many questions, and everyone had so many other things they were working through. She could deal with this. She could figure out who that man was and what his role in all of this was, and then she would share the information with Mindy, Cam, and Devon. She’d just have to talk to Nicky to do it. Then, she’d tell them. But she had to help in some way, and this was how she would.

  “I know I shouldn’t have left the house alone,” Alexia said, a tad impatient and annoyed that her every move was documented, but again understanding now that she’d experienced more of the world she was trying so hard to figure out. “I just needed to clear my head. I won’t do it again. Promise.”

  “Okay, Alexia,” Devon said, his tone unsure. “You know Cam was right, right?”

  “About what?” she asked, sighing.

  “About caring about you.” Devon paused for a second. “We all do,” he said quietly. “I couldn’t imagine what I would have done if you’d been hurt tonight. If something had…” His voice cut off, and she heard the slight catch in his throat. Her breaths came faster and her heart sped up, and a part of her breathed a long sigh of relief. He cared. She didn’t know how much. She didn’t know how deeply. But he cared, and that was a start. She’d take it.

  “I know, Devon,” Alexia said, realizing a tear had fallen down her cheek, and there was a smile in her voice. “I care, too.”

  “Good,” he said with a steadier voice.

  “Good,” she said with a shaky laugh. “Look, Devon, I’ve got to go. Class in the morning and all, but I’ll give you a call tomorrow. K?” she asked.

  “Okay, Alexia. Stay safe.”

  “You too, Devon.” Alexia hung up. “You too,” she whispered to the wind.

  “What are you saying?” Devon whispered, looking to his mentor, James Freeman. James’ dark brown eyes looked red from lack of sleep and his dark skin was sallow, as though he’d been running on no food. He still looked younger than his sixty-six years, though, but then again, they all looked younger than their age. That was a benefit of being in the Clans. Most Clan members lived a bloody long time. The oldest Clan member on record was over two thousand years old. In fact, Devon himself was the youngest in the room by almost thirty years. He had left Montville two weeks earlier, it was now nearing the end of March, and they’d been researching and asking questions since that first night. He was supposed to have been back a hell of a lot earlier, but there was too much information, and even with all the new information, there were just more and more questions.

  What they had found wasn’t what they had thought, and honestly, Devon should have known something like this would have happened. The whole situation was a shitstorm. His world was changing in the breadth of just a few weeks, and now, he was going to have to take new information back to his brother and to Alexia. This wasn’t information given during a check-in phone call.

  “I’m just sayin’ – if what we found is right – we fucked up. We fucked up big time with this girl...with the Skröm...with so many things.” James’ European accent was stronger than usual, and the way he said ‘girl’ was remorseful. When Devon had gotten back to Dunham, he told James the situation, and James had not only not been surprised, but he had produced decades old research on the myth of a group of Light Clan Skröm. Skröm with orange eyes who still only drank the blood of Clan members and Others and not the blood of humans.

  James ran a hand through his short, dark, curly hair. His skin tone and his hair were so similar to Devon’s that, when Devon chose to grow it out, they were often mistaken as father and son.

  Devon noticed the same wary look on the others’ faces that he was sure his held. They wanted answers, explanations. “Why? What made you think a Light Clan Skröm was still possible? And maybe more importantly, how many, James? How many could we have saved if you had shared this information with us before?” Devon asked through the pain that was clawing at him. He could feel his bear growling and gnashing its teeth in anguish. What he really wanted to ask was, How many innocents have I killed? How much death have I brought? But no – no, he reminded himself in an effort to keep calm…he’d never killed an innocent. If Darkness was really a choice, they’d chosen that path.

  “I knew someone once... They’re gone now. But I thought maybe…” James paused, pain etched across his face, and Devon and the others looked away from the moment. “I thought maybe it was possible, and I researched the issue at the time. I hadn’t looked at it in years,” he said, torment written clearly across his face, a face that looked like it belonged to someone in their early thirties. It was the eyes that gave him away. No amount of youthful looking skin could hide the years of anguish and pain he had hidden in the depths his eyes. “I hadn’t even thought about the research until Devon came back two weeks ago.”

  “Okay, James,” Tessa Thompson said, soothingly. “We have the information we need now. That’s what matters.”

  Her blond hair covered her near-perfect complexion of creamy white skin. The only thing marring that perfect face was the large gash that spanned the right side of her forehead all the way beyond her eye to her lower cheekbone. Clan rarely got scars. They healed too quickly. But the cut had been deep, and there had been a poison in the claws of the Skröm who’d attacked her. An attack from five years earlier where they’d lost six members of the Light Clans, including two of their own and four who had taken shelter at The Lodge. Tessa reprimanded Devon with a look that honestly, was only partially deserved. She was as loyal as anyone to Devon’s mentor, but the questions hadn’t been out-of-turn.

  This new research, beyond the stories of potential mating-bonds between the Light Clans and the Skröm, suggested a strong link between being Light or Dark and a choice to follow that path.

  “So, there might be a cure?” Devon ask
ed, in a calmer voice as he sifted through the old writings.

  “The question is, how?” Tessa mused thoughtfully. “We’ve always been told that those of the Light and the Dark aren’t made. They’re born that way.”

  “But, if we’re talking Clan, they were once all Light, right?” Devon asked. “I mean, that’s the lore we all talk about. Once upon a time, those who are now Dark Clan – the Skröm – well, we’ve all been told they used to not take as much blood as they do now – and that they never drank from humans. We have myths that say they were once Light. What if they didn’t all switch to the Dark?”

  “Yes. Yes. Yes,” Tessa said, and there was a gleam in her eyes. She always had loved a good mystery. Devon couldn’t have held back a smile if he’d tried. “Or what if it’s culturally determined? Or a choice? There might be Light Clans out there of the Skröm? Or there might even just be Light Skröm that we’ve overlooked because so many of them turned Dark? I mean, we’ve all heard stories before of Skröm saving someone, and we know the Zolanski’s are a different bunch. Hell, Ginny would be here in a hot second if we needed her help.” Devon agreed. He’d even said as much to Alexia, Cam, and Mindy that first day he’d told them about their shared history. “We’ve all heard stories of Shadows not being formed when a Skröm dies, or even of those from the Taryn or the Vuković Clans dying and leaving behind a Shadow similar to the Skröm.” Tessa paused, and Devon knew she was making sure to meet the eyes of everyone in the room like she’d always done in class. Once a teacher... “What if those aren’t just stories? What if being Light or Dark really is a choice? That would mean there isn’t a cure for being Dark like you’re trying to find for this Skröm friend of yours.” Tessa nodded at Devon. He hadn’t shared Alexia’s name. He’d only said he knew a girl who was Skröm, but who wasn’t. He trusted his family implicitly, but he trusted their fear and hatred of the Skröm more. “But it would mean,” Tessa continued, “that a cure isn’t really needed. And it might also mean that there might be a different way to deal with the Skröm altogether, like this possible hidden Skröm village we keep coming across in our research. Maybe they’ve found a way to reduce the desire to consume blood to the point of death?”

  Tessa had everyone’s attention, and this wasn’t an odd occurrence. Usually a soft spoken woman, when she got into her head enough to share her knowledge, she was all questions and excitement. She’d been Devon’s high school Biology teacher, and she hadn’t changed much. She loved grabbing on to a theory or a puzzle and working all the angles. Devon could see her brain working now, and he thought what she was saying was probably closest to the truth. Saved. The Skröm could be saved.

  That still didn’t answer why so many of the Skröm went Dark, unless it was because of culture as Tessa had just questioned. He also didn’t know if the research they had put together or the theories they were running through were actually true. It was all theory. It made sense, especially in regards to Alexia, but she might just be an anomaly. Because, he now knew she wasn’t evil. He’d known that first night during the attack when he’d tethered to her and pushed light energy at the Shadows. No Dark Clan member could have given him such pure power.

  She was worried she was something dark, which was just the strangest thing. She didn’t see herself the way others did. Devon had experienced darkness in its many forms, and that woman was all goodness.

  “Look, we don’t know yet if any of this is true – if things could be different for the Skröm. The research looks concrete, and our experiences with the rare good Skröm would suggest there’s truth to this research, but we need to know for sure, although I don’t know of anyone who’s ever met a Skröm with orange eyes. We need to find this Light Clan of the Skröm, and we need to see if we’ve gotten it all wrong.” James paused and looked at Devon and the others. “Your friend is the key, Devon. She’s half-Skröm from what you’ve told us. She is half of the myth we are chasing. We need to meet her—”

  Devon growled, even though he knew he shouldn’t. It might give away his feelings, and he couldn’t afford that. James leveled his stare.

  “We aren’t going to hurt your friend. We just need to meet her and assess the situation. If her mind is as pure as you say it is, she may be who we need to find this Clan.” James paused, letting Devon know he wasn’t a threat to his friend. Devon was glad James thought that was why he’d gotten defensive. “Think about it, Devon. If she’s really as good as you say—”

  “Fuck that, James!” Reece yelled from his hidden corner of the room. “She’s Skröm! We know the Skröm are all good for nothing, evil blood whores without a conscience.”

  Everyone turned to him. He’d been so quiet Devon had almost forgotten he was there, but then again, Reece had been quiet for most of the past couple weeks and he’d kept to himself. He wasn’t normally a chatterbox, but he’d been even more stoic recently. It wasn’t a surprise. The fiercely built, 6’6” football coach was a by-the-book kind of guy, and according to the others, he’d only gotten worse since his fated mate, Sarah’s, death sixteen years earlier during the Skröm attack. Despite his youthful look, he was one hundred and nineteen years old, and he’d been with Sarah for over fifty years. He had a reason to be angry. He had a reason to question what we’d just thrown at him.

  Devon had to hold himself back with every bit of mental strength he could muster, but he’d never wanted to hurt someone as much as he did in that moment. Blood whore? Fuck that noise! No matter that he knew of Reece’s history. No matter that it was his family, his old football coach. No matter that he’d thought the same thing just a few weeks ago. He couldn’t stand someone thinking those things about Alexia. She was as mentally strong and as compassionate as any of the people in this room, and they just didn’t know her.

  “Enough, Reece! We know nothing, and Devon’s account and the research we’ve done proves that.” James looked at Devon with sympathy. “We need to know, Devon. We need to meet her.” There was a desperation in James’ voice that Devon refused to address. James had lost someone a long time ago, and it had nearly killed him. Devon took a breath. Bringing other Clan members back to Montville had been the plan all along, and despite his fears, he knew he could protect Alexia. However, he wouldn’t be telling his family the truth about his relationship with her right yet. He’d protect that secret until it needed to be shared.

  Devon had never kept anything from his mentor or the rest of his family. Lying wasn’t in his makeup. He was usually too honest, and so unable to hold back, he often overshared. He’d once thought it a weakness, but he’d found his honesty, his compassion and kindness, and his loyalty were strengths and not hindrances. But Alexia’s identity was a different thing all together, and he wouldn’t risk her getting hurt.

  He’d been talking to her every day, almost since the day he’d left. She’d tell him about her classes or how her birthday had gone or about a recent incident with her power, and it felt natural. It felt natural to tell her about his family. To share what his day had been like. They laughed together. They worried together. Then, they made each other feel better with a funny story and a laugh again. They were building something – or at least he hoped they were building something, and he couldn’t wait to get back to her. So many thought the Skröm were evil, and maybe most were, but not his Alexia.

  He knew who Alexia was to him. Because he’d been told the stories. Stories that said that Light Clan members didn’t have to form bonds with just anyone; that in fact, every Clan member had a fated mate as a gift from the gods and goddesses for the good they did during their time on the earth. Most mated older, around one hundred, but finding a fated mate was rare, and many had given up on finding their one and only. Devon knew from the few couples he had met during his time in this world, though, that Alexia was his fated mate – and he was riding the crest of those fated mate tales all the way back to her side.

  He’d felt it as soon as he’d connected to her when she’d been attacked. He’d let the truth of it sink
in as they’d talked that day at Cam’s home. His bear had known from the first, but not until he’d shed his human skin and walked right up to Alexia in Cam’s backyard, did he finally believe without question. And when he’d changed and rushed to her side after she’d broken down in Cam’s backyard, he’d known.

  A gut punch.

  A tingle.

  A fucking feeling.

  He didn’t care. He’d just known.

  She was his.

  “All right. But we do things my way. I’ll talk with Cam tonight, work out a plan. I want no more than us and the twins, Ben and Carrie. And you’ll need to find a place to stay while we’re there. I won’t risk anyone going vigilante on my friend.” Devon paused for a moment making sure everyone in the room, especially Reece, understood him. “Also, because of the murders, we may not be able to leave for a few weeks to check out possible locations for this Light Clan of Skröm and half-Skröm.” Which was good, Devon thought. It would give him more time. More time to prepare Alexia for what was to come. More time to train her.

  Usually Reece, Carrie or James trained, but no way was Devon letting anyone else train his brother or Alexia. And they needed to be trained. Most Skröm were bloody and evil – what Reece had said was truth – and they killed with strength and without thought. Not to mention the added power of the Shadows at their beck and call – the marks on their right forearms guaranteed that call was heard. So, Devon had to prepare Cam and Alexia for what was to come.

  “Good. It’s settled.” James gave Devon’s shoulder a squeeze. “You call your brother. Fill him in. And set everything up for us.” James and Devon nodded at each other, and his mentor walked out of the room, the others close at his heels.

  Devon’s head was pounding and he needed rest, but he also needed Alexia. He needed her close. He needed her safe. And wasn’t that the kicker? He needed to protect someone who didn’t even know she’d come to mean that much to him in such a short time. He’d have kicked himself a year ago for his current thoughts and feelings, but Devon knew he would protect Alexia at any cost.