“Goodness me, you are a pretty one.”
Jumping what felt like twenty feet in the air, Autumn found herself back up against the bed, clutching her chest as her heart jumped into her mouth. On the other side of the doorway stood a short, curvy woman carrying a basket full of bottles. Her long, blonde hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, and horn-rimmed glasses were perched on her smiling face.
Autumn clutched the bed cover as the woman stepped through the doorway and went to place the basket next to the hearth. “I thought you might like to wash all that muck off of you, dear,” she chirped, turning toward her. Her smile faded. “Oh, my poor dear. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. Good grief, you’d think I’d have better manners than to just charge in here unannounced.”
Autumn tiptoed toward the far side of the room, and the woman watched her, frowning. “You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?”
Bumping into the table, rattling the oil lamp and change, Autumn eyed the open doorway again. It was right there. Just a few steps and she’d be out of here. No more weirdos popping up in her face.
“Are you wondering where Torin went, dear?”
Not recognizing the name, Autumn glanced back at the woman, who hadn’t moved from her place by the fire. She placed her hands on her hips and sighed. “Well, no wonder you’re terrified. Really. He doesn’t even have the decency to tell you his name. Wait until I get my hands on that son of mine.”
So, now she had a name to go with the face of her rescuer. Torin. And this was his mother. Well, now she knew where he got his chattiness from. She’d gotten more conversation from these two strangers than she had over the last ten years. It was making her head spin.
“My name is Lauren,” the woman said, smiling again. Torin got that from his mother, too. Always with the smiling. She should be creeped out, but she wasn’t for some reason. Maybe she was losing her touch. She usually spotted the creeps miles away, but no alarm bells were sounding with these two and their incessant smiling. “And the mannerless boy who brought you here is my son, Torin.”
Autumn nodded slowly, glancing out the doorway. The ‘mannerless boy’ certainly didn’t look like a boy to her. Must be a motherly thing. She wouldn’t know, having lost her own when she was still quite young. She shook that depressing thought away. He would probably return any moment, and then her chance to leave would be over.
“Don’t worry, dear,” Lauren chirped, drawing Autumn’s attention again. She set some things down on the foot of the bed, smiling up at her. Seriously, her cheeks had to be killing her by now. “When Torin told me about you, I told him to leave you be for a while.” She pressed her hands together. “So, here are some soaps and rags for you to wash off if you’d like. The shower is just inside that door there,” she said, pointing at the door next to the hearth. “Feel free to take as long as you need.”
Autumn lowered herself onto the bed, watching Lauren as she crossed the room and exited, pulling the door closed behind her. The moment the door snapped shut, a bolt of panic streaked through her. Once again, she was locked inside a room. She rushed over to the door. She would not be trading one prison for another. Grabbing the knob with both hands, she yanked as hard as she could, the door flying open easily and sending her falling to the floor on her ass.
Lauren turned from down the hallway, raising her eyebrows. “Ummm… are you alright, dear. Did you need something else?”
Gaping at her from the floor, Autumn just shook her head. The woman didn’t seem angry that she’d just broken out of the room. Slowly getting to her feet, she closed the door…and opened it again. Close. Open. Close. Open. It…it wasn’t locked?
She snapped her gaze up, finding Lauren shaking her head and frowning. “You poor dear. That door won’t be locked unless you lock it yourself.” One last look of pity and she turned and proceeded down the stairs.
She stared after Lauren for a few moments before shaking herself and closing the door. Not locked. She wasn’t locked in. She could leave anytime. Anytime she wanted. She took a step away from the door. And another. Dammit. She opened the door again. Easy peasy. No resistance. Still not locked. She closed the door again, turning away and going to examine the items Lauren left on the bed. That door won’t be locked unless you lock it yourself. This felt weird. Whatever this was. She was definitely not used to it.
CHAPTER FOUR
“You did what?!”
Torin clenched his teeth. He didn’t think Pop would take the news of his “rescue” too great. “They had her locked in a tiny room with nothing but a hard floor to sleep—”
“That isn’t the point, Torin!” his father boomed. Pacing the length of the large study, Talon shoved a hand through his short, brown waves.
Torin crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, really. Then, what is the point, Pop?”
Talon narrowed his gaze on him. “Don’t you realize what you’ve done?” The Alpha didn’t give him a chance to respond. “You could have brought war down on us all.”
Throwing his hands in the air, Torin stepped toward his father. “Oh, like invading their territory wasn’t enough for that? C’mon, Pop.”
“That was simple retaliation for their kidnapping of Charlie,” Talon argued.
Torin shook his head. “You and I both know that Charlie, being a bloodsucker, isn’t protected under Pack Law.”
The vein at Talon’s temple ticked. “All mates of pack members are protected——”
“And Blackmoon would just argue that they didn’t realize he was a mate. It’s not like those two are…your typical pack members.”
Talon growled under his breath before resuming his pacing. He mumbled something about Nessie’s poor choice in mates. It was an unprecedented match, but then his newly-discovered half-sister wasn’t exactly precedented. For one thing, female lycans were a rare breed to begin with. Add on top of that, the woman had somehow managed to make the transition into vampirism, something lycans were supposed to be immune to. Talon had chalked it up to her human ancestry on her mother’s side. Torin just wanted the two of them to pack up their shit and get on with wherever they were headed. Bloodsuckers, family or not, didn’t mix well with their kind. It was already making the village uneasy.
“You’ve got to take the girl back,” Talon said on a sigh.
Whipping his head around, Torin snapped, “The hell I am!”
Talon straightened to his full height, towering over him. “Boy, you will watch your tone.”
Torin glared at his father, but bowed his head. He hated when his father called him that. He was a grown man, for gods’ sakes.
“In the eyes of Pack Law, you have committed thievery, and by right, they can demand restitution.”
Torin shrugged. “I’m willing to give up some furs or meat or whatever.”
“They’ll demand a female in return for the one you stole,” Talon said, his lips a thin line.
Well, that created a dilemma. “We don’t condone the use slaves,” Torin stated.
“No shit,” Talon snapped. “I was the one that banned slavery in the first place. This is why you have to return the girl. We won’t be able to meet their demands for restitution, and if we don’t, they have rights to declare war on us. We are one of the few packs that do not use slaves to offset the gender imbalance. Blackmoon may gain supporters among the other packs.”
Torin ticked his jaw as he contemplated his options. It sickened him to even think of taking the female back to that hellish excuse of a room. Images plagued him, the bruises, the bleeding, the gut-wrenching fear that radiated from her gorgeous green eyes. Something beyond neglect had happened to that woman. It radiated from her every time he neared her. And his father expected him to throw her back into the pit.
He threw a glare his father’s way before turning on his heel.
“I’ll give you a few days,” his father said. If Blackmoon gave them that long.
Slamming the door on his father’s words, he made a beeline for
the kitchen.
“Give her time to sort through everything,” his mother had told him. Having spent many hours of his childhood helping his mother cook, he decided to spend his time making the mystery woman some food. Her frail body looked like it needed it.
“Hey, Tor!”
Torin turned and groaned. Nessie pranced into the kitchen, her brown hair tangled, lips red and swollen, and a not-so-discreet bite mark peeking from beneath the collar of her over-sized sweater. Plus, she was waaaay too chipper considering she was normally a downright bitch towards him. Guess Charlie knew how to put her in a good mood, then. Gag.
“Want some help?” she asked, smiling at him for probably the first time…ever.
He glanced down at her, eyebrows raised, before returning to his cutting board. “No, thanks.”
“Well, hey,” she continued, not taking the hint. She leaned her elbows on the counter and looked around his shoulder at him. “I wanted to thank you for helping me get Charlie back. Really, it means a lot to me.”
Glad I could get your fangy boy toy back, sis. “I always enjoy a good fight,” he said, shrugging.
She nodded. “Right,” she said, leaning towards him. “Well, thanks. You’re the best!” She gave him a quick hug and ran off before he could even throw her off him. He stared at the hallway she just disappeared down. What the hell was this? A few days ago, she’d thrown him twenty feet for trying to stop her from searching for Charlie. And frying herself in the sun since it had been close to dawn. Not that he’d cared, but Pop wanted her stopped. He didn’t understand why his father had cared either until later that day. When he’d gotten the nasty news of their relationship. Which meant now he had a new sister he never wanted. Not to mention Nessie’s mother. The woman his father had loved and lost almost twenty years ago. And now, apparently, he was expected to accept hugs from her?
He continued with his cooking, his stomach grumbling as the aroma of the perfect blend of root vegetables and spices filled the kitchen. Kayline came in a little while after Nessie had left to offer help, which he accepted. He’d needed the distraction. His thoughts kept wandering to the woman currently occupying his bedroom.
Kayline chatted next to him as he stirred the pot and she started piling dishes into a basin. He half-listened, smiling and nodding in the small pauses when she actually decided to breathe. After dishing out two generous bowls, he made his way back up the stairs, the tray full of food rattling, the aroma of his delicious dish making his stomach growl.
As he neared his bedroom door, he paused. Giving the frantic nature he’d left her in, he didn’t want to alarm her. He balanced the tray in one hand, knocking lightly on the door with the other. He heard shuffling inside, and then the door cracked open and one of those mesmerizing emeralds peeked through.
He smiled, holding the tray up. “Hey, gorgeous. Thought you might be hungry.”
She glanced at the tray of food, hesitating for a few moments, as if she wasn’t going to let him into his own room. Then, slowly, she opened the door, and every male instinct he possessed shot to attention. Wrapped in nothing but a towel, her hair smooth and damp, hanging down to her hips, where the subtle womanly curves drew his eyes. The paint and blood had been washed clean, revealing smooth, ivory skin dotted with freckles. The scar that ran over her left cheek made him want to slash her abuser to tiny ribbons for daring to mar such perfection. He snapped his gaze back up, seeing her wide-eyed expression. He knew she didn’t appreciate his compliments or roaming eyes.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, stepping through the doorway. “Didn’t Mum bring you any clothes?”
He glanced back, trying to keep his eyes from drinking up all that beautiful bare skin. She shook her head, biting her lip as she clutched the towel closer to her. His stomach clenched and he turned away, setting the tray on the bedside table. Clearing his suddenly dry throat, he walked over to his drawers, pulling out one of his tunics and a sash.
He held it out for her, and she quirked a brow at him. Really, she was gonna play this game with him again? Fine by him. “If you’d rather stay in your towel while we eat, I won’t object,” he said, smirking.
She gaped at him for a moment before snatching the clothes from his hands. Chuckling, he headed back toward the door. “I’ll wait outside while you dress.”
***
Autumn’s skin was still flushed from Torin’s gaze as he shut the door. Her body had seized up the moment his eyes veered from her face. She knew what a man’s appreciative gaze looked like, and Torin had definitely been appreciating. This time her skin hadn’t crawled, though. Instead, she’d felt unusually warm. When he didn’t immediately try to paw at her like all the others, and had apologized, the iron grip of fear had loosened. Torin didn’t act like any of the men she had ever known. And he didn’t make her want to vomit every time she looked at him, either.
After pulling his shirt, which fell to mid-thigh and hung off one shoulder, over her head, she grabbed the thick rope he’d also provided. She had to wrap it around her waist several times before tying it. Sighing, she looked at her own scrap of a dress on the floor. It was stained with layers of paint and blood, sweat and other bodily fluids she didn’t want to think about or she would definitely lose her appetite. She picked it up off the floor, tearing it down the middle and throwing the remains into the flames.
As she watched the thin fabric burn away to nothing, she breathed a little easier. She padded over to the door, her steps already feeling a little lighter. Opening the door, she beckoned Torin inside.
He gaped at her for a moment, before shaking his head and following her into the room. “I should give my clothes to you more often if it’s going to make you smile like that.”
She felt her cheeks heat. She hadn’t known she’d been smiling at all.
“Really. You should do it more often. It looks good on you.”
Gosh, he could stop now. Her face felt like it was on fire. He chuckled, grabbing the tray from the table and setting it on the rug in front of the fireplace. He sat down on the rug, gazing up at her for a moment before patting the spot beside him.
She rolled her eyes, sinking down on the opposite side of the tray. Whatever was in the bowl smelled delicious, and she had the urge to ask him if he’d cooked the meal, but…she couldn’t. So, instead, she smiled at him, at least she thought she did. The sensation felt odd, having not smiled much in her life.
He smiled back, his hazel eyes sparkling in the firelight, which had her stomach doing flips while it growled. “I hope you like it. I wasn’t sure what to make you.”
That had her heart joining in on the wild flipping. What the hell was wrong with her? He was a man. Just like all the others. Only…he didn’t act like the others at all. He hadn’t hurt her, despite having had several chances to do so if he wished. He hadn’t even touched her other than to try to help her. Instead, he’d offered her warmth, shelter, food, even cared for her bleeding head.
She shook herself, taking a small bite of the food he’d so graciously made her. Oh. My. Gods. He must be a cooking god because it was the best thing she’d ever tasted.
He cleared his throat, making her pop her eyes open. Oh, gods. Had she just moaned? Well, it was super yummy.
“I take it you like it, then?”
Her cheeks heated again. He had a talent for making her blush it seemed. She nodded, taking another bite, which was every bit as delicious as the first.
He chuckled and started in on his own bowl of deliciousness. They sat in comfortable silence as they ate, and she caught him stealing glances at her every so often. And for the first time in a long time, she felt completely content. Her stomach was full; her body warm from the heat of the fire. She watched the flames dance, not even realizing when she had curled up on the rug and drifted off to sleep…in the presence of a man.
When she awoke, she was huddled beneath the thick cover that had been on the bed. The fire had dimmed to a quiet crackle of a few flames. On the bed lay a suede dress in
a deep purple color. Autumn picked it up, finding the material heavy. Torin must have fetched her this while she had been sleeping. She reluctantly shrugged out of his shirt, swapping it for the dress instead. It definitely fit better than Torin’s shirt had. She turned toward the door, gasping when she saw a pair of moccasins set neatly by the door. They had obviously been brought for her as they were way too tiny to fit Torin. She wanted to cry as she pulled on the snug boots, wiggling her toes in the fur lining. Her first pair of shoes.
Practically prancing out the door, she went in search of something to do. And when a young woman, probably around her age, tripped up the last stair, cursing as the pile of perfectly folded clothes scattered across the floor, Autumn decided to help. Laundry was something she knew how to do, and clumsiness was something she could relate to.
The woman smiled when she spotted her picking up the clothes. “Thanks,” she muttered, her striking eyes of the palest blue glancing up from the mess. “But you don’t have to do that.”
Autumn shrugged and added a few more items to her pile. She followed the woman into a large room on the opposite end of the hallway from Torin’s room. The bedspread was embroidered with bouquets as well as the pillows. A vase full of flowers sat on the bedside table next to an oil lamp. A garland of flowers was strung across the mantle, which held more figurines, this time of birds. The dresser had been engraved with beautiful lilies that made her fingers itch for a paintbrush. After dumping her pile of clothes on the bed, she got started folding a few shirts.
“Really. You don’t have to do this,” the woman insisted. “Torin would want you to rest.” Autumn glanced up, feeling her face flush. “He was very worried about you.”
Heat crept up her neck, her stomach fluttering as images of Torin fussing over her unconscious body flooded her mind. She wasn’t used to anyone worrying about her, not since her mother, at least. It was nice to know someone cared. Even if it was a man. Oh, well. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.
Kiss of Fire: A Dystopian Shifter Romance (The Whitemoon Warriors #2) (The Whitemoon Warriors Series) Page 3
