by Bella Jacobs
“Of course.” I would call it a spirit visitation, not a dream, but it doesn’t matter what Wren calls it, only that there’s something she’s been holding back. “So, your mother said something else, something you weren’t ready to share before?”
Wren nods, her brow furrowing. “She said that one of my four knows where Scarlett is. That the answer is locked inside of him, but that he doesn’t remember or know it’s there. And that he won’t until I set the secret free.” She shakes her head. “But my gut said to keep that part to myself. At least for a little while.”
I hum. “The secret part is odd. If he has the secret of where your sister is locked inside him, what else has he got hidden away? And why can’t he remember it?”
“Exactly.” Her eyes narrow the way they do when she’s struggling to sort out a puzzle. “I’ve been rolling it over in my head, but all I can think of is a head injury, maybe? Something that caused him to lose access to some of his memories? But that wouldn’t explain how he knew where Scarlett is in the first place.”
“If the resistance was involved, Dust has that kind of clearance.” I pause, throat going tight as I remember that the leaders of the resistance are dead. Celeste and Niles and all the people who took a chance on an angry, cage-fighting kid, when even my own family doubted I would ever get my shit together, are gone. “Or he did. Before.”
“I thought about that.” Wren tucks an increasingly damp lock of hair behind her ear. “And aside from you, Dust is the one I trust the most.”
“So did the people in charge, which is a big deal. They vetted everyone who joined the resistance. Repeatedly. As he climbed the ranks, Dust would have been investigated several times, and that’s not taking into account who his parents are.”
“Royalty, right?” Wren’s mouth quirks. “It’s still strange to think of Dust as a prince. I remember him as a troublemaker with skinned knees and a chocolate milk mustache who got in trouble for telling stories that gave the rest of us nightmares.”
I smile. “Strange or not, it’s true. His parents have ruled the UK for over a thousand years. They’ve held onto the throne longer than any other royal family, and they’ve done it by being meticulous, tough, and transparent.”
“They don’t color outside the lines,” she murmurs.
“They don’t color at all. They don’t believe in wasting time on fun.”
Wren’s forehead furrows. “Poor Dust.”
I grunt in response.
“Seriously,” she says. “It can’t have been easy for him to go back to that after so many years with his adoptive parents. The Parsons weren’t the most affectionate people, but I was always jealous of how much freedom they gave Dust. They let him run as wild as a kid that sick could run.” She tilts her head on her fists, her eyes taking on a faraway look. “He could ride his bike anywhere in the neighborhood, and if he got too tired to make it home, they would come pick him up in their big station wagon. My parents made me stay on our street, right in front of the house. I couldn’t even go down the hill to the marine barrier. I didn’t have the strength to, really, but I always wanted to try, or to see if I could make it across the neighborhood to the playground all by myself.”
I reach out, smearing the raindrops beading on her cheek together until they drip off her perfectly pointed chin. “When this is all over, we’ll go on an epic bike ride. We’ll have to bring camping equipment, we’ll be out so long.”
She smiles that happy-sad smile of hers, the one I swear to God I’m going to turn one hundred percent joyful someday. “Sounds perfect. I’ll bring the termite snacks.”
I laugh, actually laugh, for the first time in this long, miserable, grief-filled week. It hurts a little, that puff of hope breaking through the weight heavy on my heart, but it’s a good hurt. So good I can’t resist leaning in to kiss Wren and whisper, “I love you,” against her lips.
“I love you, too. So, we agree, then?” she asks as I pull back to catch her determined gaze. “We go to Dust with this and ask him if there’s any way he might have secrets locked inside him that he’s forgotten about?”
I nod. “Even if he doesn’t, he has more background information on Creedence and Luke than we do. If either one of them could have been in a position to discover that kind of information, Dust will know about it.”
“Or if someone suffered a head injury,” Wren says, even as her lips slide to the side and the light in her eyes dims. “But that’s naïve, isn’t it? To think it’s something as innocent as that? More likely one of us is a traitor.”
“Your mother said the secret was locked inside,” I remind her. “That doesn’t sound like whoever it is has a choice about sharing it. You can’t betray someone without free will. And, for what it’s worth, I believe the others care about you. If any of them knew how to get a warning to your sister, they would tell you. Even Luke.”
Wren studies me, rain collecting on her lashes, before she blinks and her smile returns, bigger and brighter than it was before.
“What?” I ask, laughing. “What’s funny?”
She shakes her head. “Nothing, I just…” She shrugs. “Sometimes I want to punch Luke. Hard. Right in the face.”
“Woman, I hear you.” I roll onto my back, grinning as I study the evergreen limbs forming an asterisk against the sky. “Sounds like you’ll get your chance at that tomorrow.”
“I don’t understand why you can’t teach me how to fight,” she grumbles, scooting over to lie on top of my chest again, the feel of her breasts bare against my cool skin making my blood pump faster. “You were a professional fighter. It was like your job.”
“Right, it was my job. I fought in cage matches for money. Luke fought to stay alive. It’s different.” I gaze down at her, smiling as her nose wrinkles. “But I could teach you a few tricks. Give you something to pull out of your sleeve if he gets too bossy for his britches.”
Wren’s eyes light up. “Yes, please. Teach me smack-down tricks.”
“I will.” I urge her farther on top of me as I add in a thicker voice, “Right after I make you come for me again.”
She straddles my hips, making a sexy sound low in her throat as my erection brushes against where she’s wet, hot. “That sounds like the best plan I’ve heard all day.”
It isn’t a plan, but it’s important. And as I take my mate again, urging her on as she rides me with sensuous strokes of her hips, I make a solemn vow not to let anything keep me from this.
From her body.
From her pleasure.
From this love that is every bit as important as saving the world.
Chapter 4
Wren
I want to stay forever in the woods, where things feel simple again.
But after multiple orgasms and a brief tutoring session in rudimentary self-defense techniques, it’s getting dark and time to head in for the night.
By the time Kite and I get back to the room, Creedence has returned with two buckets of fried chicken and a wide variety of sides.
I scan the bureau near the television where the spread is laid out, my eyes going wide as I take in yeast rolls, mashed potatoes, sautéed kale, green beans, corn, and a pasta salad large enough to feed a small army.
“Where did you get the money for all this?” My mouth waters as I grab a paper plate and load up, snacking on a roll as I go. I can’t seem to get enough to eat these days. Since the shifter suppression drugs left my system and my powers came online, I’m constantly ravenous. “I thought we were down to our last twenty bucks.”
“I have my ways.” Cree’s lips curve in a lazy smile. He seems calmer after his drive, making me hope we’ll be able to move on from the blow-up this afternoon without any further drama.
“Who did you rob?” Kite jokes.
“No one who will miss a hundred bucks.” Creedence pulls a pair of expensive looking sunglasses from the pocket of his battered jean jacket. “Or his shades, the dickweed.”
Kite goes still for a moment befo
re nodding and continuing to spoon pasta onto his plate. I’m not a fan of stealing, either, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and I trust Creedence not to prey on the weak. And we can’t save the world on an empty stomach. And if we don’t save the world, then the dickweed with the fancy sunglasses won’t have anywhere to spend his money or wear his glasses, so karma-wise it should all shake out in the end.
“Hopefully, our money problems will be over after tonight.” Dust wipes the chicken grease from his fingers as he explains the plan to canvas the safe house for supplies to Creedence, who agrees to tag along for backup.
“Just to see you shift, if nothing else. I’m starting to think griffins are imaginary.” Creedence tosses his empty plate into the trash with a loaded glance Luke’s way. “Wolves, too. We haven’t seen you furry yet, either, hombre.”
Luke takes another bite of chicken leg and chews, holding Creedence’s gaze without a word until the strained moment drags on so long, I have to break the tension. “I just want you both to be careful. We don’t know who might be waiting for us. Promise you’ll get in, get out, and get back before morning.”
“We’ll do our best,” Dust says, turning to Kite. “But if we’re not back by tomorrow evening and we haven’t made contact, get out of here. Go far and go fast and don’t tell anyone where you’re headed.”
“How will you find us?” Kite asks.
“This.” He reaches into the pocket of his smoothly pressed gray pants, drawing out a circle that flashes brightly in the muted hotel room light.
“My coin!” I bounce out of the corner chair, ditching my now-empty plate in the trash as I cross to Dust. “I thought I lost it at the reservation.”
He presses it into my outstretched hand, his fingertips and the metal both warm on my palm. “You did. This is a new one. My last one.”
I nod soberly. “I won’t lose it, I swear.” I wish I hadn’t lost the first one. I’d held onto it since we were kids, when Dust had slipped what he promised was a magical coin into my sticky, eight-year-old fingers and promised he’d always look out for me.
“To help with that, I had a hole drilled at the top.” Dust pulls a slim metal chain from his other pocket and pools it onto my palm next to the coin. “You can wear it as a necklace. It should stay in place, even when you shift. The chain is tempered to withstand extreme heat, as well.”
In case I catch fire, remains unspoken.
I catch fire now sometimes. It’s a thing.
It’s all still so surreal, this new life of mine, that sometimes it feels like a game. A big pretend I’m playing until my real life picks up where it left off.
But of course, it isn’t pretend, and the stakes are higher than any game I’ve ever played. These men could die tonight. None of our enemies are pulling punches, and for one reason or another, all of them want Dust and Creedence dead.
I stand on tiptoe, pressing an impulsive kiss to Dust’s cheek. “Thank you. Be safe.”
“You, too.” Dust’s hand settles on my waist, giving a light squeeze. Surprisingly, a current of awareness courses across my skin, making my breath catch. I glance up at Dust, wondering if he feels it, too, this more-than-friends energy thick in the air.
But before I can get a read on his always-composed features, Creedence says, “I would tell you two to get a room, but we have a room, and this is it.”
He glides up behind me until his body heat warms my back and the current coursing through me becomes a sizzle, a rush of heat that makes my nipples pull tight beneath my T-shirt as Cree’s hands settle possessively on my hips. “So, I’ll just take my ‘don’t die’ kiss, too, and we’ll be on our way.”
I glance over my shoulder, lips parting to insist no one is going to die, but Creedence doesn’t give me the chance to speak.
His mouth slants across mine as his fingers drive into my still-damp hair. His tongue strokes deep into my mouth, kissing me like there’s no one else in the room. No one else in the world. He claims my mouth like I’m his to possess, to ravage any way he sees fit, and my body responds the way it did the first time this usually laid-back man showed me a glimpse of his carnal side.
I go weak in the knees, hot and achy in all the places where Kite made my body sing just an hour ago. Creedence steals my breath away, his powerful chest becoming my anchor and his kiss the center of my world.
I want to push him back on the bed, strip off my clothes, and get him inside me—forget the consequences or how seriously an unbreakable mate bond should be considered before things go that far. I want to drown in him, to get lost and found in the primal escape he offers with every possessive sweep of his tongue against mine.
“Hold that thought, Slim.” Creedence murmurs against my lips as he pulls away. “I want to explore that further when we get back. What about you Dust? You ready to go?” He shifts his dancing, heat-filled gaze Dust’s way.
My focus follows, my breath hitching again as I witness the hunger clear in Dust’s eyes. A sudden image—of Dust drawing my nipple into his mouth as Creedence slides into me from behind—explodes on my mental screen, followed by a nuclear rush of desire.
I want that, I realize. God help me, but I want them both. At the same time. I want Dust’s hands and Cree’s skimming across my bare skin, lighting me up like a sky filled with falling stars.
And maybe I want Kite there, too…
Kite’s mouth on mine, Kite’s big hands cupping my breasts, teasing my nipples as Dust spreads my legs and—
I swallow hard, firming up my shields like my life depends on it and praying no one else has sensed the supernova of lust that just lit my ovaries on fire.
But of course, they did, and when Dust speaks his voice is husky in a way I haven’t heard before. “I can’t help but feel the cat got the better ‘don’t die’ kiss. Maybe I should try mine again?”
My lungs go still in my chest, but I bob my head “yes.” I want to know what it feels like to kiss my friend, this brave man who would die for me in a heartbeat, even though we haven’t formed a mate bond.
A heartbeat is all it takes for Dust’s lips to press to mine and warmth like honey and bourbon mixed together to flood my veins. His kiss is campfire smoke and hot chocolate on a cool winter morning. It’s the ancient stillness of the woods and the electrifying rush of standing at the edge of a cliff at the edge of the world, realizing there’s so much to explore that the adventure could go on forever.
I could kiss him forever. I don’t want to drown in him the way I do Creedence or melt into his safe, steady arms the way I do with Kite. I want to…dance with Dust. Explore with him. I want to see what new kind of magic we could make together now that we’re all grown up.
We draw apart a long moment later, slow and easy, our auras still sticky and close. I see that he’s smiling, that crooked, troublemaker grin from when we were little, and a rush of affection fills me to overflowing. I lift a hand to his face, tempted to tell him I absolutely adore him, but I don’t want to rush into something like that.
And I suspect he knows.
“Time to suit up.” Creedence slaps my ass as he circles around me, headed for the door.
I huff at the unexpected smack, but then he winks at me over his shoulder, and the flash of annoyance fades away. It’s hard to get angry with Creedence. He’s a mischief-maker, can have a temper at times, and definitely isn’t shy about asserting himself sexually, but my pretty cat’s primary mission in life is to make people smile.
I hope someday that will be his only mission, that there will come a time when our lives are so peaceful that none of us has to worry about what new danger looms on the horizon.
Creedence leads the way out of the room, followed by Dust and Kite, who squeezes my hand on his way by, gently assuring me that he’s okay with me opening my heart—and maybe soon, my bed—to the other men. I’m about to follow him when I feel that sharp tug deep in my chest and glance back to see Luke leaning against the wall by the bureau.
His d
ark gaze crashes into mine, and I think I see longing in his eyes, but a beat later, it’s gone, replaced by the unreadable calm I’ve become accustomed to from our wolf.
He nods toward the door, “Going to see them off?”
“Yes. You?”
“No. I’ll stay here, grab a shower while it’s free.” He tips his head toward the bathroom. “But tell them good luck for me. I hope no one gets hurt.”
I can tell he’s sincere, but I can also see that he doesn’t care the way the rest of us do. He doesn’t want anyone killed, but he wouldn’t shed any tears over us, either.
Maybe he wouldn’t shed tears over anyone at all. Maybe he’s incapable of that kind of emotion. Maybe he cried his last tear the day his brother was killed and he vowed to slaughter every last person who played a role in the murder.
I don’t know, but I know that he makes me angry.
And sad.
And that a part of me wants to hug him as much as I want to punch him.
I don’t do either. I nod and head out into the night behind the three men who want to be mine, ignoring the nagging feeling that I can’t do this without Luke.
I can, and I will. And as soon as Dust gets back, we’re going to have a long talk—about secrets and my sister and where to start looking for another marked canine shifter to take Luke’s place.
Chapter 5
Wren
The rain has finally stopped falling and the moon is big and bright above the dark outline of the trees. The air is damp, but cool and soothing in my lungs as I jog between Creedence and Kite down the path.
It feels good to move fast through the shadows, but I can’t help but wish I were able to shift more easily. I’d love to be in my fox form right now, feeling the living carpet of the forest floor beneath my feet, smelling the thousand secret smells a human nose can’t catch or decipher.
The longing sharpens as we reach the same glen where Kite and I spent the afternoon. Creedence instantly ripples into his lynx form while Dust lifts his arms overhead, seeming to levitate in the air for a moment before blooming gracefully into a beast easily five times his human size.
