Wounded Pride

by Kaye Draper

  I bristled. "Ten days?" Oisin would be dead by then. Panic clawed at my chest and it was all I could do to keep from shifting.

  He shrugged. "Winter solstice isn't for another two weeks, Miss Lionheart. And some of your pride need...preparation."

  I watched him walk away while I opened and closed my mouth like a beached fish.

  Black came down the stairs with his suitcase, already wearing his long coat and a scarf. He strode to me and handed me a black card with a phone number on it and nothing else. "Call me and we will speak about the details," he said, all smooth and business-like. As if he knew all about everything that was going down.

  I blinked at him. He winked. "And thank you for your hospitality."

  I watched the two...demons walk away.

  Fuck me.

  Chapter 16

  Unable to actually fucking do anything, I shifted and went for a run in the nearby forest. The black numbness wanted to swallow me one moment. And the next I was engulfed in a red-hot rage. So, I ran. I let my big paws pound through the snowy forest, eating up distance until my muscles quivered and I was forced to stop, the air knifing into my lungs like needles of ice.

  I stood on a rise and stared out at the snow-covered forest. Lifting my head, I let out a shrill battle cry—an eagle screech that was somehow war and heartbreak all in one sound. This. This was why I was so afraid to admit I was building a pride. To trust people again. To build a new family.

  Because a lion's heart was full of honor and loyalty and truth. But it was also easily wounded.

  I wanted to give up. I wanted to lie down in the snow and sleep the eternal sleep. Maybe Oisin would find me there.

  My love for my fucking pride was killing me. But it was also the only thing that kept me alive. It cemented a suspicion in my mind. One that made all the growing possessiveness and difficulty controlling my gryphon side make perfect sense.

  But that couldn’t be right…only male gryphons could be alphas.

  Sucking in a deep breath of snow-scented air, I turned and plodded back toward home.

  I did feel slightly better when I got back home, back to my territory. Not any less raw and wounded, but more centered at least. White was going to give me some sort of help. I had no idea what, but he was a fucking demon for fuck's sake. I'm sure it would be something useful for murdering fae lords.

  I carried my exhausted ass up the stairs, skipping the broken places, and into the kitchen in search of sustenance. I at least had to keep my physical strength. I was going to need it for heavy shifting. And fighting. Protecting my pride, the way I’d failed to do this time.

  I froze when I reached the warm haven of Con-made treasures.

  There was a fucking mage in my kitchen.

  Vanhelsing turned from where he was examining the contents of the fridge. "I'm guessing the human does all the cooking around here?" he said in his gravelly voice. He was in his sock feet, and he'd discarded the leather duster and hat, leaving him in a black t-shirt and black jeans.

  His creepy fucking mismatched eyes met mine as he pulled out sandwich stuff and set it on the counter. "What?"

  I crossed my arms. "What the fuck are you doing in my kitchen?"

  He closed the fridge and started rooting around in the cupboards. "Like I said before, I don't get a say in what kind of shit jobs I get shoved my way."

  He pulled out a bag of chips to go with his sandwich and turned back to me, his creepy gaze appraising. "Looks like I'm stuck with your grumpy ass for a while."

  I opened and closed my mouth. Derek fucking White.

  "You. You're his idea of fucking resources?"

  The mage shrugged. "Why not. I'm just a tool. A weapon." He gave me a look. "A really good one, in fact. Especially against fae."

  My blood chilled in my veins at that. He was a fae killer. The evidence was right there in the eyes that didn't belong to him, glowing purple and liquid gold. I supposed this was what you got when you took help from a Godsdamned demon.

  "I'll have salami and ham," I said with a sigh, sinking down at the table.

  He raised a blond brow as he started making a sandwich. "Get it your own damned self, peach. What do I look like, one of your fuck buddies?" He snorted with derision.

  It was going to be a long ten days.

  Epilogue

  Oisin couldn't remember where he was.

  One moment, he was riding in the wild hunt, mowing down his father's enemies to the sound of baying hounds, driven to fake loyalty for as long as he needed in order to take the old man out.

  The next, he was dragging his dagger across a young fae's throat, feeling warm blood spill over his hands. The same blood that ran through his own veins. He did it to save them. To save them all.

  He was a murderer.

  But he did what needed to be done.

  Then he was leaving, slipping from the court, leaving behind his mithril armor. His family crest. The slavish devotion of the lesser fae who payed homage to their deranged ruler out of fear more than anything else.

  He had saved them all from being used as a tool.

  Now he had to save himself.

  He had to keep the old man from taking the life force that throbbed through Oisin's veins, his very soul.

  He was being bartered away, but he knew the old man had a deeper plan.

  He always did.

  A sharp stinging sensation jarred him out of his dreams and back to the present. At least he thought it was the present. Right. He had passed out again from the pain. His head spun as he looked up at his father's cold, unamused face.

  "That was just a taste, boy," the older fae whispered. "I would have made it quick for you. Infused your soul into the heir of that upstart new-age family, taken his land, then drained him dry. Our family would have its ancient land back. Their family would have a new ruler. And I would have the power of both heirs pulsing through me." He sighed. "But you failed me. Again. So, I will make this slow. One final lesson for you, boy."

  He dragged the sharp blade on one of his rings down Oisin's forearm, opening up a vein. "And I will enjoy every moment of it, child."

  Oisin heard the mages muttering words that slithered past his mind like snakes in the shadows as they used his blood to fuel their magic. He felt their will twine with fae magic, latching onto something inside him and pulling.

  He screamed. But his voice was already so hoarse he barely made a sound.

  Coming Soon

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