by Brea Viragh
Van looked quickly away, his palms clammy. But he forced himself to listen to the remainder of the conversation as the two men made their way toward the dining hall. He forced himself to observe the faces around them, how they moved and the emotions so clearly present on each of their faces.
What are you trying to hide?
He saw no sign of the wicked force that had dispatched so many his first day here. The engagement party. No sign beyond the sorrow permeating these halls.
The people were in true mourning for their lost princess. Odessa, while headstrong and a bit rash, was much beloved by her people. He’d heard murmurs of her wit and smile. The way her dancing could melt the heart of the staunchest miser, as much as he'd seen for himself during her final performance. And the impact had not been lost on him. No, Van played his own game through his observation skills, noting the lines around Odessa’s eyes, the way her mouth pinched when she turned in his direction, the way she avoided eye contact.
The dance had been beautiful, yes, but without the appropriate feeling and passion. It seemed the alpha’s daughter had ruthlessly kept those to herself instead of sharing them with her beloved-to-be.
It didn’t matter.
He knew the line had been drawn between them, as well as the contract between their people. The kidnapping, now, that he had not seen coming.
Van lingered near the windows for a moment instead of following Alex and Baron outright.
He’d thought an audience with the two alphas would be enough to sway them to his way of thinking (without outright telling them, of course), to convince them of the dangers of following through on their misguided rescue mission. And perhaps make some progress toward the alliance despite Odessa’s disappearance, the alliance that had stalled in the wake of the unexpected turn of events.
Nothing, he knew, was more important than tying their two resources together. He would fight to the death to make sure the merger went through.
A deep steadying breath brought Van into the dining hall, oak-paneled walls reaching a ceiling of master craftsmanship, the plaster woven in intricate patterns of vines and flowers and painted a soothing white. The table sat twenty comfortably, although he knew from experience that more than two hundred Lycans claimed allegiance to the Taunway Lake pack. Most of them lived in their own dwellings on the massive estate Alexander Darrow had inherited from his own father when he took up the mantle of Alpha. Less than the table sat lived within the manor house.
Despite the delectable dishes set down in front of him, fowl and fish and rich spices, Van had to force his way through dinner, the alphas seated down from him and immersed in conversation with seconds and underlings.
He’d always been more inclined to listen than participate.
The storm rolled in with murky-and-ominous clouds blotting out the night stars. A crack of thunder heralded the downpour, and soon needle-like drives of water beat against the stones and glass.
When the rest of the higher ups found themselves lulled to sleep by the sound of rain, Van made his move. The hall had fallen into a hush punctuated only by the steady boom and crack.
A snap of his fingers broke the small enchantment keeping the closet door soundproofed. He opened it with a single flick, magic curling and sparking red around his fingertips. Inside Calen sat surrounded by brooms and buckets, slowly lifting his head to level the full force of his glare on Van.
“Whatever it is you think you’re doing,” Calen rumbled low, “I will stop you.”
Van only said, “You don’t want to do that.”
Chapter 8
Calen struggled with the bag thrown across his shoulders. He had little room to maneuver in his escape before the others would be on his tail. The first time out, he’d known no one would miss him in the melee. If anything, the kitchen staff will be glad to be rid of me, he thought, because distracted by his thoughts since news of the engagement broke, he’d been worse than useless, which they thought him already.
This time when he ran to Odessa, instead of trusting the Lycans at his back, he feared them. Feared the retribution in Van’s eyes as the other man had leaned into his face, the threat clear. If Calen continued to search for Odessa, then his life was forfeit.
Clear. Simple.
Undeniable.
Calen received a black eye for his struggles, when he fought back against an opponent he had no hope of beating. Not without the power of the wolf at his side. One he’d never been able to manifest before.
Van’s warning bid him to keep his nose where it belonged, and to let the stronger wolves handle the business of the missing princess, had left a poor taste in Calen’s mouth and he, although not a fighter by nature, had swung before his instincts told him to stop. Before he realized exactly who stood on the other end of the punch.
Van’s reaction came swift and lethal, Calen stumbling back into the closet and losing his balance when his foot slipped. He’d broken a broom handle on his way down and nearly swallowed the half-open container of cleaner that dumped on his head.
There stood Van, his shoulders blotting out the buttery light of the overhead chandelier, and his rough features half-masked in shadow.
The message was unspoken but powerful. Stay out of it.
If only Calen could.
It didn’t matter how many times he’d opened his mouth to protest. He had the information they required. He knew where to find Odessa and Jean. But with Van blocking the way, physically and mentally, there was nothing Calen could do without resorting to cheap tricks.
Those were things he could not make room for.
He touched a finger to his eye with thunder cracking behind him. Loudly enough to have him flinching and hurrying his footsteps as he raced outside of the property line. Alex had unleashed a small squadron of his closest that morning, leaving with them to personally search for Odessa outside the territory boundaries. As Calen himself had done.
He had quickly swallowed his desires to tell his alpha of what he’d found. Who he had found.
There was no one to trust at the manor. Not with the Evertooth pack breathing down Alex’s throat, exerting their own dominance over that of the Taunway Lake pack. Van and Baron clearly had their own agenda in mind, one that had nothing to do with finding the lost princess and everything to do with expanding their own seat of power.
Clearly, instead of going through with the marriage, they’d hatched a plan to seize the kingdom. Devious and cunning were synonymous with the rumors of their pack. Whatever it was they’d done to Odessa, Calen knew he had a better chance of wringing it out of Van if he and the woman in question worked together. Alone.
Without magic, without the ability to shift, he had nothing else to offer her besides his mind, although he would give her the world if she asked for it.
And if Van were whispering in Alex’s ear, then he’d make it abundantly certain that Calen never got the opportunity to air his knowledge.
It left him with little recourse but to run. Run back to Odessa. Try to find a way to break her curse without the help of the pack.
He’d gathered what he could of his own clothing, bringing extra for Odessa and raiding the kitchen pantry before journeying out once more. The storm would help hide his tracks. Would disguise any evidence that he’d been there at all. Nova and Ghast would not be bothered with his disappearance. They already thought him unreliable. Most of his mates did. Calen Siegfried, nothing but a useless flesh-bag only good for a tart or two.
Yes, let them think what they would.
Calen braved the storm and thunder, lightning strikes overhead and the fatigue riding him from lack of rest. The hair rose on his arms. He saw no movement behind him through the driving rain falling in sideways sheets.
He’d never once feared for his safety with Odessa around. Not within the walls of the manor house. But Calen found himself going still as he stared into the gloom. Then slowly looked over his shoulder.
Nothing.
And yet...
O
nly shadows surrounded him. At least the lack of light did nothing to hinder his progress. Though he stumbled through tree roots, he trusted his body to carry him where he needed to go. Trusted the instincts he hadn’t thought he possessed that had gotten him this far in the first place. He had no defenses, true, and he’d discovered that the hard way, nicking a knife from the kitchen on his way out the back door.
But if he could just make it to Odessa, then he had nothing to worry about.
During his years at the compound, he’d learned to listen. He’d learned to read the tenor of a room and to sense when emotions shifted. When the air shifted. Men may be good at hiding their intentions, but not their scents.
The echo of thunder faded as he ran, with only silence in its wake.
Days. He’d waste days getting back to her if he didn’t push his overtaxed body. Calen swallowed and slammed the door shut on those kinds of thoughts. Now that he knew his way, he would find her faster.
Sheer willpower brought him to the lake’s edge later than he wished but sooner than he’d arrived the first time. He’d managed to cut down on travel time, which he counted as a mark in his favor.
The ruined stones of the house came into view first, as the land shifted to reveal its secrets. Down the short rise he stumbled, urging his knees to handle one last descent. One final run and then he’d be able to rest. The bag straps cut into his skin from too many hours of carrying the burden.
A quarter moon would soon rise, and Calen wanted to be ready. Wanted to be sure that he and Odessa had the time to talk, as much as the rhythm of the day allowed.
For the umpteenth time he wondered what the hell Van had been thinking, manipulating the situation to best suit his needs. He’d be thrilled to see the defeat on the other man’s face when Calen returned with Odessa. Couldn’t wait to see the flash and hiss of emotions when Van realized he had lost.
Served him right.
Calen hesitated at the edge of the clearing and glanced toward the lake beneath lowered lashes—a look the others had often interpreted as hesitant. He’d used it to his advantage over the years. The wolf no one thought of. One able to slip under the radar of everyone except Bozart and the kitchen staff. Letting the onlookers forget that he might not be a capable wolf, but he was a man.
It was no wonder he’d learned to fill his time with thoughts, getting used to his own quiet and steadfast company when no one else wanted to slow down to speak to him. Those wolves who liked to pretend he did not exist. Calen had grown up knowing how to block them out, using his imagination for company so he did not feel quite so alone.
He dropped the bag with a thunk the moment his boots sank into the sand, then ripped them from his feet. His toes spread and he let the coolness of the water lap at him. Too many hours, his mind reminded him.
“So, this is where you ran off to. Pretty far, but I commend you for finding your way back with relative ease.”
Calen swirled at the click of a tongue and was greeted by a fist against his eye. The bad one. The one Van had made sure to smack before ending their conversation. That same ham hand came for him again when Calen tumbled. This time, he used his momentum to surge to his feet again, reacting with a lunge of his own fist. His fingers grazed the area where the other wolf had been seconds earlier and came up with air.
Van stood in the darkness, a living part of those shades of black. The same stillness as any tree trunk.
“You followed me.” Calen seethed. Fear and failure curled around him like talons, cutting through his internal defenses. Things of his own making.
How had he not sensed someone following him?
“Oh, don’t worry. It’s not like you have to blame yourself. If I don’t want to be seen, then I’m not.” Van shrugged, the tight fabric of his black T-shirt moving with him. “It’s simple. Even if you had your power, you wouldn’t have been able to stop me.”
For a heartbeat, they stood there staring at each other with the skittering trickle of water against the sandy shore. For a heartbeat, Calen could not remember why he was so afraid of this wolf. He was going to kill him.
Then a twig snapped.
Van’s eyes moved toward the sound and Calen was on his feet and running before the other had a chance to follow his movements. He barely felt the scratch against his bare feet, barely noticed the throbbing in his eye as he blindly lunged for Van, panting through his teeth.
He clawed at Van, aiming for his arms and lower belly. Leather straps on the other man’s shirt made it impossible to get through to soft skin and meat. Calen didn’t care. He thrashed and hit until one of them went down.
It was him. Of course.
“Get up,” Van taunted. He wasn’t even out of breath. “Get up now.”
Calen took a breath, blinking furiously. “You followed me,” he repeated with enough bite that he barely recognized his own voice.
“Yes, and for good reason. Odessa—”
Calen snapped upright at the mention of that name, twisting on his knees and lashing out with his left leg until he hit bone. The kick leveled Van and brought him down to the ground.
Good.
Hurtling himself toward the lake while Van was down, Calen reached for his bag and the knife he’d grabbed, stuffed into the webbing.
Once upon a time, there was a lone wolf who could not change, and a princess he loved very much...
He couldn’t let Van get to the swan.
His head jerked as Van jumped, his eyes following the movement as the other man’s form shifted in midair and a full-grown wolf with black fur landed hard on Calen’s back. His face was shoved into the sand and the impact knocked the breath from his lungs.
He struggled to rise against the growling, from the ache and pain in his shoulders where paws and claws had pushed.
Behind him, the wolf readied its stance. The fur covering his body shifted in the moonlight, ebony-and-midnight black, unbroken save for a pair of yellow eyes.
He’d done it now.
The wolf would rip away his skin, sever and slice until Calen bled out on the beach with the birds as silent witnesses. Would Odessa know it was him?
“Van...” he began slowly.
No fear, he told himself. If he showed fear, then Van would win outright, and that was something he could not allow.
He sensed the clouds gathering overhead rather than see them. Sunset. Moonrise. The faint burning in the air as electricity rose. The moments before a lightning strike. Magic rose from those clouds in dazzling bright waves of red and gold. If he lifted his gaze to the sky, he’d see it.
But Calen kept his gaze locked on the wolf slowly padding closer to him with lips drawn back, saliva dripping from large canines.
A charge of light bolted from the center of the clouds and slammed into the lake. The wolf jerked back with a whimper and his head swiveled toward the sound, eyes wide. Then...a low sign of distress that Calen heard with perfect clarity.
“You’re in for it now, asshole.” He couldn’t help the superiority clouding each syllable.
The great wolf redistributed his weight in preparation, but his attention had shifted from Calen to the water. To Odessa, human, staggering toward them with eyes wide and—
Damn. Wide and pissed off beyond measure.
It happened so fast that Calen didn’t have time to shout. To issue a warning.
“Enough,” Odessa bellowed.
One heartbeat, Odessa swam toward them with her arms at her sides.
The next, buck naked, eyes flaring, she slammed her own tiny fist down on the top of the wolf’s head, sending it down to the sand with a yelp of surprise. At least, Calen hoped it was surprise.
“Next time why don’t you try picking on someone else?” Her yell cut through the sudden stillness left behind the crack of thunder. Had she seen the whole thing? “Maybe someone your own size. Especially considering you shouldn’t be here in the first place.”
“Dessa, I’m sorry,” Calen started. His heart beat loudly enough to
burst.
She swung a finger around in his direction, and he had the good sense to wince at what he saw on her face. “Save it, buddy boy. You were supposed to be gathering the cavalry. But you decide to draw this rabid beast to my doorstep when there are other people here who are less capable of taking care of themselves. Prey animals! People who can’t protect themselves against someone like him. For shame.”
Calen glanced across the lake toward the others, noting the birds swimming peacefully toward the opposite shore. “Wait, why aren’t they—”
“Because,” Odessa interrupted with a snap, “the punishment has been changed. You missed the weekly sorcerer visit the other night. He came sniffing around right after you left. And you!”
The wolf rose, shaking its head, yellow eyes narrowed in a glare. The shift came quickly and soon it was a very human Van who scowled upward at his bride-to-be.
The sound of disgust Odessa made was priceless.
She turned to Calen with her hands on her hips. Even naked, with algae clinging to her skin and her hair limp, she stood magnificent. Outraged, yes, but unmistakable in her grace.
“You brought him?” she asked Calen. “Are you kidding me right now?”
Calen rose and winced at the ache in his shoulder. His eye had swollen to twice its normal size and now that he tuned in to the area, the pain refused to leave him. “I didn’t bring anyone. I tried to run out when I thought no one would find me. Because this jerkoff locked me in a closet and said that he’d kill me if I told anyone about you.”
“I never said I would kill you,” Van countered.
“It was implied!”
“Van Roberts, I will murder you where I stand, so help me God. Do you understand what you’ve done?” Odessa snapped, her upper lip curled in a snarl, and Calen could have sworn he felt a thrum of power course over him. Within seconds, the sensation sealed shut and there was nothing but open air and clear night.
