by T. S. Joyce
“…challenge him…”
“…I would second a challenge!”
“…kill her and be done with this…”
“…got what we wanted…”
“…not going through this again…”
“…knew this would happen…”
“…let’s take a vote…”
“Enough!” Krome grabbed Laken by the throat and slammed him against the dining table. “Do it. This is what you wanted, right? You wanted the throne? I’m hurt, so here’s your fucking chance, Laken.”
Laken glared at his king with fury in his dark eyes. “I challenge you for the Murder.”
Krome squeezed his neck for another two seconds, then released him and backed away, his onyx eyes on Laken. Rage wafted from him and made the air seem thicker to breathe. “Tomorrow,” he ground out. “Four o’clock.”
“Fuck!” Bron yelled. “You can claim her!”
“She doesn’t understand what I am! She doesn’t understand what we are,” Krome yelled. His voice filled up every molecule of space, and made Cora hunch her shoulders under the weight of his power.
She didn’t know what was happening, but it was bad. Really bad. The other crows were murmuring amongst themselves, and Laken’s smile was reaching his empty eyes as he stood from the table.
“You’re failing as our leader,” Laken said. “You’ve failed to end the bear shifter line, even with all of us begging you to make the call. How many years have we asked you to just end it? You failed to end Moore and his brothers in that war, and now you’re attaching to some human. She wasn’t meant for you, Krome. She was meant to make you stronger and that’s it. That was her entire job. What use is a king who only fails? You’re weak, but I’m not. I’ll get the Murder back where it needs to be. I’ll do what you couldn’t. Your time as king is finished.”
Krome’s enraged grimace clenched his jaw, and his nostrils flared with the breath he slowly inhaled. “We’ll see, won’t we? Everyone, get out. The show’s done for today. Tomorrow you’ll have your violence.”
One by one, the Crow Blooded drifted out the front door until only Cora, Krome, Bron, and Laken remained.
“Why now?” Krome asked Laken. “Why not before Cora tried to fix me?”
Laken said, “Because what good is taking the throne from a dead king?” He lowered his voice and balled his fists at his sides. “I want to earn it.”
Laken disappeared into a cloud of purple smoke.
“Krome,” Bron started, his hands out.
“Don’t,” Krome told him.
“This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be,” Bron said. “We just wanted to bring her here to help. To heal you. Killing her was never the plan.”
“Maybe it wasn’t your plan, Bron, but you and Laken are different. You always have been. You are a great third. You’re content with your position in this Murder.” Krome jammed his finger at the door. “He never was.” Krome swallowed hard. “If something happens to me—”
“It won’t,” Bron said.
“If it does, you keep her safe.”
Bron’s black eyes were wide as they drifted to Cora and back to his king. He swallowed hard, and then he nodded and made his way out the front door.
The second the door clicked behind him, Krome rolled his eyes closed and leaned heavily on the kitchen island countertop behind him.
“So at four o’clock tomorrow…you’re going to fight Laken?”
Krome didn’t answer her. Instead, he slowly stretched his wings out to their full span. He clenched his fists out to the sides and moved the wings slowly up and down, and then tucked them tightly against his body again. He didn’t wince in pain, but she could tell it hurt. His eyes gave it away. The tension in his shoulders gave it away. The soft exhalation of breath gave it away.
It was too soon.
Wild birds were so much easier to work with. They didn’t argue with her orders, they simply obeyed because they had to. What choice did they have? She was bigger than them, and more willful. But Krome? He had a mind of his own and wouldn’t be controlled. Even if it was for his own good.
“Will you hurt each other?” she whispered.
“Yes.”
“As men or crows?”
“Crows.”
“Oh my God, Krome. You don’t even know if you can fly yet.”
“You don’t understand the tradition of my people, Cora. It doesn’t matter what condition I’m in. A challenge is a challenge. It’s been done like this since the birth of the first Murder. Only a strong king can hold one.”
“Why is Laken doing this? I thought you were friends.”
“Friendship. The Crow Blooded don’t do friendship. We do safety in numbers. We do for-the-good-of-all. Each of us is here to do a job, and if one of us fails at that job, they are replaceable. Even the king. None of these crows are in this Murder for friendship. They’re in it because of what I’ve built. Because of what they can potentially take over. Because of the safety I provide.” He brushed past her and strode for the hallway. “You’re stressing about something that doesn’t concern you.”
“That doesn’t concern me?” She nearly choked in disbelief at the words he’d just uttered. Louder, she repeated, “This doesn’t concern me? Seriously?” She looked around. “I’m here, Krome. I have been worrying over you, I have been trying to fix you, I have been obsessing over whether I did good enough mending your bones.” She jammed her finger at herself. “I spent those hours cutting you open, and breaking you just to put you back together. I care!” Shit. She was saying too much but it was out there now, the words hanging in the air between them.
Krome rounded on her. His dark eyebrows drew down and he cocked his head, studied her. “Say that again.”
“I care,” she repeated in a shaking voice. Why did she feel like crying right now?
“Why?”
“Because you are worth caring about, Krome. I don’t understand all of this. Fighting, challenges, war with other shifters, claiming. I’m trying to learn, but it’s a lot at once. I don’t understand, but I want to. Because I care.”
He huffed an empty laugh and backed up a couple of paces.
“Don’t you do that,” she said. “Don’t you laugh at me. That was a gift. When a careful woman says she cares, you don’t laugh at her. I don’t give that stuff easily. Don’t make me regret it.”
The smile fell from his face but she was already in it now.
“You told your Murder I don’t understand what you are, but you’re wrong. I know you better than you think. I know what kind of man you are just from the stories you’ve told me and from the kindness you’ve shown me when you were hurt, Krome. When you were hurt. You didn’t lash out at me, or sit there and order me around like the prisoner I apparently am. You made sure I was fed, you made sure I was taken care of. I mean, fuck, Krome! You came out of surgery and made me food. You’re washing my clothes right now, aren’t you?”
He stared off to the side, but she heard it. The dryer was humming in the other room.
“I know you are,” she continued. “You shared with me about your dad, and you cared about what happened to mine. You can try and convince yourself that you’re some kind of robotic monster whose only value is to eat, sleep, and breathe as the king of this Murder, but I see right through it all. You think I don’t understand what kind of monster you are, but I know down to the marrow of my bones that you aren’t a monster at all.”
His expression was unreadable. His black eyes stayed trained on hers, his face drawn blank.
“I’m going to kill Moore Bane,” he said.
Her heart was pounding against her sternum. “What will that solve?”
“You should know you’re wrong about the monster I am. I’m going to kill Moore, and then I’m going to kill Auxor and Bricken.”
“Why?”
“I don’t have to explain vengeance to you.”
“Yes you do.”
He clenched his teeth so hard, the musc
les in his jaw twitched. “You come in here and you speak about things you don’t know anything—”
“You don’t think I understand vengeance, Krome?” She took a step closer. “Do you know how many times I imagined killing the men who shot my father? Do you know how many nights I laid awake replaying what happened in my head, wishing that somehow I could’ve been strong enough to hurt them before they got to us? I was the only witness, Krome. Do you know what it was like during that fucking awful trial as I faced the men who had taken my dad away from me? Who had taken my voice? I couldn’t even fucking talk! All I could do was replay that goddamn moment when I felt my dad’s body go limp on top of mine, over and over and over, and you don’t think I understand vengeance? Vengeance is poison, Krome. Not for the villains. For the victims.” She took another step closer, and he took another step back, hit the wall next to the hallway, and now she had him trapped. Good. He should hear every word she had to say. No running. “Moore and Auxor and Bricken aren’t their father. You aren’t your father. I’m not my father. We are just us. Their goodness, as well as their faults, are their own, and every one of our fathers are in the grave right along with the past. We make the future.” She lowered her voice to a whisper and slipped her arms around his waist as she told him, “Your fathers’ war doesn’t have to be your war. You create your future. You make this Murder what you want. Killing the bears will only poison you more. It will only be black marks against your soul and for what, Krome? For what?”
He stood frozen in her hug, every muscle tensed. Was he even breathing?
“I wish you didn’t do that,” he murmured.
“Do what?”
“Make me question everything.”
“I only want you to question the things that hurt you.” The words came out too thick, too emotional. She pushed up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips gently to his, and eased back, startled by what she’d done.
Panic swam in his eyes as he searched her face. He pushed off the wall, gripped her shoulders, and leaned in. His lips crashed onto hers, and she was lost in an instant. He tasted divine, and the power of this kiss rendered her breathless. He pushed his tongue past her lips and gripped the back of her head, and her entire body reached for him. The muscles of his chest rippled under her palm. God, she loved this. No one had ever kissed her this way before.
Krome ended it suddenly, looking as confused as she felt. “What am I doing?” he rumbled.
Kissing all sense of reason out of her?
He didn’t push her away like she’d expected him to do. Instead, he slowly slid his arms around her shoulders and rested his cheek onto her head. His body went from stone to water as he stretched his wings out and wrapped them around her. He blocked out the kitchen light with his embrace.
This should be terrifying. She should feel claustrophobic…right? Being enwrapped in this powerful being.
But instead, against all reason…she felt completely safe.
Because she knew she was right. She knew it to be true.
Krome really wasn’t a monster.
Chapter Ten
Something was different now.
Krome’s tattered wings didn’t hurt so badly. All that remained from the war were scars hidden under his feathers and a dull ache deep in his bones. No piercing pain, no being afraid he wouldn’t be able to control his wings if he moved them. No more desire to be put out of his misery.
Now…Krome leaned forward in the rocking chair that sat in the corner of his room and studied Cora’s pretty face. Her dark hair was fanned out across the pillow behind her, and her full lips were parted slightly. Her eyes were closed and her long, dark lashes rested on her cheeks. There were no worry lines or tension in her face as she slept soundly in his bed.
God, she was beautiful. With every second he spent with her, Cora’s beauty magnified. It was something that happened from the inside out. There wasn’t only surface beauty. Her heart was stunning. Her viewpoints, her patience, her caring personality. He’d been so used to the dark, and she was a fresh breeze of air in a life overwhelmed by smoke.
He'd spent every second with her yesterday. He should’ve been preparing for the Laken’s challenge, but instead, they’d talked for hours, and made dinner together, and he’d kissed her a dozen more times. He’d changed the bandages on her wrists, and they had walked down the long road of his property and back, talking easily. He loved every single thing he learned about her. Last night, she’d asked him to tuck her into bed, and that had done something to his chest he couldn’t explain. She was breaking him apart somehow, but it didn’t hurt. It just felt…different.
The dream of flying and then falling into Moore’s hands had woken him up again. He hated that dream more than any other.
Every part of him wanted to touch her right now. To feel her warmth, and fall back asleep to the cadence of her steady heartbeat. Krome was too restless though. He would wake her up if he got back under the covers, and she deserved sleep. She’d been through so much here.
Cora was this hidden treasure he’d never known had existed until he’d found her.
Where could he hide her?
Where could he hide Cora that she would be safe—truly safe—if Laken took the Murder today?
There were a couple of safe houses Bron could take her to, but Laken was aware of them. He would find her. The Crow Blooded were very good hunters.
Krome closed his eyes and imagined the landscape under him, the wind under his flight feathers, the cold currents of air asking him to change his body position this way or that. He imagined the world below him that he’d memorized from his years of flight. Old Mill Road, the farmstead to the right of it, the grove of trees and untouched land, the small farm with the five dairy cows grazing on the grass shoots sticking out of the thin layer of snow. The vision blacked out and a pair of eyes appeared. Light gray eyes full of fury and the promise of death. He didn’t see Moore Bane’s body, or his grip on his wings. He only saw those hate-filled eyes and felt the snapping of his bones in the bear shifter’s hands.
Cruuuuunch. The grinding sensation rattled through his entire body and pain blasted down every nerve ending.
With a gasp, Krome opened his eyes to his room once more.
Cora still slept silently. That goddamn vision. That damn Moore. That damn pain. Would he ever stop reliving that moment the sky had been taken from him?
Leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, Krome cracked his knuckles softly and tried to rid himself of the dizzying sensation of being in two worlds with such quick succession.
Those eyes…those hate-filled, unnatural, silver eyes…
Where could he take Cora that Laken would never find her?
Chills rippled up Krome’s forearms as the answer whispered across his mind.
He could take her to the bears.
“Your thoughts are so loud,” Cora whispered. Her eyes eased open, and her little sleepy frown did a number on his insides. He loved everything about her. The crow inside of him looked at her possessively. The collector instincts of his animal had settled onto Cora. Did she know how he felt? Did she understand? Would she ever be able to accept that she belonged to a crow?
Krome stood and stretched his wings. The tips of his flight feathers touched both opposite walls. A sleepy smile spread across Cora’s face, and she pulled up the edge of the blanket in an invitation.
“It’s too early to wake up,” Krome murmured as he slid into bed beside her.
The covers were soft and warm as Cora spread them over his hips. His wings hung off the bed. Were they growing? They felt heavier. Stronger.
“Then put me back to sleep,” she whispered.
Mmmmm. Krome painted a stroke down her cheek with his fingertip, memorizing the curve of her cheekbone. Down to her neck where her pulse tripped faster. Her hand slid up his chest and he inhaled deep, rolled his eyes closed at how good her touch felt.
“Do you know how important you are?” he asked.
The
smile slipped from her lips. “I’m scared.”
He didn’t like that. Didn’t like it at all. “No one will hurt you,” he promised.
“I’m scared of the challenge today.” She swallowed hard. “You’re important, too.”
Krome’s heart pounded harder as he searched her eyes. He had more reasons now to win the challenge. It wasn’t just the throne anymore. Cora had become part of this. “Important in keeping you safe?” That was a king’s job. He kept the Murder safe. His ability to make sound decisions, lead wars, manage the crows, and keep the Murder intact was his value.
“No.” Cora wrapped her arms around the back of his neck and nuzzled her entire soft, warm body against his. “You’re important to my heart.”
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, what was this strange feeling that spread through him? This possessive wonder? Every fiber of him reached for her. He wanted her. Wanted to claim her. Wanted to be claimed by her. He wanted to continue feeling like this—unbroken.
She made everything feel lighter. She dulled the edges of his hate. She drew his focus back and made him see the bigger picture, and there was great power in that.
Krome hugged her tightly to him, then rolled her onto her back. He grabbed her hands in his and shoved them above her head.
He lowered his lips to her neck just to taste her, and reveled in the power he felt when she arched her back against the mattress and angled her head back, making room for him to play with her throat.
Krome leaned back far enough to peel his old shirt over her head and threw it to the side of the bed, then his hands were on her again. He gripped her hips, drew the taut bud of her nipple into his mouth, and offered a private smile when she groaned. Her nails felt so fucking good against his scalp as she gripped him, holding him in place at her tits. God, she had the best reactions to his touch.
His dick was throbbing to be in her, but he wanted to make sure she was ready. He didn’t want her to be sore.
He took his time with each of her tits, then moved to her lips as he slid his hand between her legs. She was already wet, and he grinned against her lips as he pushed two fingers inside of her.
