Broken Bond: A Reverse Harem Shifter Romance (Claimed by Wolves Book 2)

by Callie Rose

  “You wanna talk about this?” Sable asks, a hint of steel in her bell-like voice.

  That’s the girl I know. Soft and lovely like a summer shower, but with the backbone of a predator. Mushy on the inside with a thick armor on the outside, built up over a life of hardship so that it protects her from anything that could hurt her.

  “Not really,” I reply with a shrug, then turn back to the tree line. If I keep looking at her, I just know I’ll give in. It’s like looking at the sun for too long and trying to deny the pain. So I shove down my emotions as deep as possible.

  “I think you do.” There’s bluster in her tone, but a hint of sadness too. “I think you’re dying to give me a piece of your mind. Maybe if we just go ahead and have it out, we can stop with the temper tantrums.”

  Defensive anger snakes through me, but I tamp it back. I have to admit, I’ve had a harder time controlling my emotions since I lost my pack. I lived too long as a wolf. But I’m not an idiot—Sable’s baiting me.

  The question is, do I want to take the bait? Or walk away?

  Truthfully, I’m tired as hell of harboring all these feelings. I feel like a fucking crazy person. What if talking about it would help? What if a few moments hashing out the situation with Sable is all I need to remember how deeply I was falling for her before the witch appeared?

  I take a deep breath, wondering whether or not I can dig deep and be honest. Hiding my feelings is a hell of a lot easier than admitting I’m not okay.

  “I don’t like it,” I finally say.

  I feel her shift behind me, her feet brushing over dried grass. “Oh? My powers?”

  Her tone is cautious and carefully bland, as if she knows we’re both walking through a minefield with this conversation.

  “Yeah. Your powers.” I whirl around, my fingers clenching into fists as I stare her down. She’s a breath of fresh air with her silky blonde hair reflecting the heavy sunlight and her blue-gray eyes as deep and murky as a lake’s secrets. As much as I love this land, I might love her more. “I hate it. I hate all of this. I hate that I can’t separate you from the magic you possess. It’s fucking with my head, fucking with my heart, because I still want you.”

  Sable blinks rapidly a few times. “Dare, you must know I would never hurt you.”

  “Wouldn’t you? You don’t exactly have control over your powers,” I point out.

  She looks crestfallen, and I want to punch myself in the face. I know Sable wouldn’t hurt me. The Sable I spent time with at the cabin prior to her transition wouldn’t have hurt a fly, much less hurt me. But her witch side…

  She doesn’t have control.

  And no matter what dinky little lessons Archer gives her, she’s never going to fully have control without a real witch to teach her, and that can never fucking happen. She could hurt us just by being near us.

  “Have I ever told you about the attack on my pack?” I ask her, trying to keep the bite out of my voice. I can tell by the flush in her cheeks that I’m not successful.

  “No. Tell me now.”

  “The witches tested our defenses for weeks.” Every word falls from my tongue with a twinge of heartache. “My pack was on full alert. We had twenty-four-seven patrols. We knew where they were getting close, and we worked at keeping the boundaries secured. We weren’t caught off guard. We knew they were there.”

  Her eyes narrow at me in the sunlight. “So what happened?”

  “There were two smaller attacks. We lost less than five people, and it almost seemed laughable. Those bitches thought they could beat us?” My chuckle is bitter and full of regret. “The final attack came out of nowhere. Broad daylight. Twenty witches, maybe more. They beat our defenses, and they beat us. My pack fought bravely, but in the end, we were overpowered.”

  Sable’s eyes sparkle with unshed tears. She presses her hand to her lips, but remains silent.

  “Many died,” I say, letting my gaze slide past her. In the distance, the mountains look like a Hollywood backdrop. Just misty enough to not be real, but so vividly detailed they couldn’t be anything but. “Those who didn’t die—women, children, the elderly, very few people, mind you—they fled. I don’t even know where they are now. Safe, I hope.”

  I let my last thought remain unspoken. How it’s been years, but I can’t forgive myself. I won’t forgive myself for allowing it to happen.

  Sable pauses for an infinitesimal moment, then takes several sure steps toward me. Her small hands rise to my cheeks, and her fingertips are cool and steady as she cups my face.

  “You know it isn’t your fault, right?” she asks. “You fought with everything you had. You didn’t allow it to happen. You did everything to stop it. And you’re still fighting to this day.”

  Her hands on my face have rendered me deaf and mute. I stare down at her sweet, earnest face. She’s an innocent—spent the majority of her life trapped in a house, a prisoner in her own life. Yet somehow, she came out of that nightmare so fucking wise.

  I reach up and mimic her grasp. I cup her soft face in my hands, reveling in the softness of her skin, the warmth just beneath the surface.

  I don’t know when I make the decision. It isn’t some epiphany or some blast of total clarity. It’s just… Sable.

  I kiss her.

  Her lips are hot and soft beneath mine, tentative at first. But I press right through her insecurities, parting her lips with my tongue and dipping into her honeyed-sweetness like I own it.

  She moans, the sound deep in her chest. It sends a signal straight to my dick, and I return the sound in kind, spinning her around and pressing her back against a nearby tree. I lean into her, deepening the kiss, her breasts crushed to my chest, her thighs slightly spread as I press against her. My hands are everywhere—her face, her neck, her chest, her waist. Heat flashes over me, making it hard for me to think. My wolf growls, urging me to rip her clothes off, to sink into her and claim her.

  Fuck caution.

  Fuck everything else.

  I want to.

  But instead, I tilt her head back as our tongues dance. I slide a hand behind her, gripping her supple ass, pulling her against my hard cock so she knows what she’s done to me. This isn’t Sable the witch. This is just Sable, the woman I’ve wanted since the moment I laid eyes on her in the woods. It’s so clear right now where the delineation is, what the difference is between the two aspects of her.

  I’m tangled up in Sable, my fingers in her hair, my hand cupped to her ass, our lips bruising with the force of our kiss. I don’t want to move from this spot or think about anything else. I don’t want to ever fucking let her go.

  But as my hands roam over her body, sliding up under her shirt to tease her bare skin, the hairs on the back of my neck prickle.

  Even though they move as silently as the predators they are, I can still sense them behind me.

  Archer, Trystan, and Ridge have arrived.

  Goddammit.

  It takes every bit of willpower to tear my lips away from Sable’s, and she yelps in surprise when she sees the three men behind me. I don’t think she felt them approach like I did.

  “Um… We were just, uh, talking.” She shifts awkwardly, her cheeks turning pink, and I hate that she feels embarrassed about being caught kissing me. As if it’s something she shouldn’t be doing, instead of the most perfect, most right thing in the world.

  It’s my fucking fault. I know that. I’ve pushed her away even as my wolf begs me to get closer to her. I’ve run so damn hot and cold it’s a miracle she hasn’t given up on me completely.

  If I don’t get my fucking head on straight and keep it that way, I’m gonna wreck things between us badly enough that at some point, they won’t be fixable.

  “Right. Well, I think we can call it on the training session for today,” Archer says, smiling at her as she slips away from the tree I had her pressed against. “You had a big breakthrough, and I don’t want to push too hard. We’ll pick up tomorrow where we left off.”

&nbs
p; “Sounds good.”

  Her gaze flicks to me, her expression softening for a moment. Then she ducks her head, following after the other three shifters as they head back toward the village. I stare after her for a moment before finally forcing my feet into motion.

  Wait for me, Sable. Please fucking wait for me. I’m doing my best to come back to you. I promise.

  17

  Sable

  I wouldn’t say I ever look forward to practicing my magic, but over the next few days, my training sessions get a bit easier. It still doesn’t respond every time I try to call it up, and I live in terror of drawing a sigil wrong or accidentally unleashing a blast of raw magic.

  But my control is increasing. Slow and steady, as Archer reminds me over and over. That’s the way I’m going to make this work.

  A few days later, we’re finishing up breakfast before heading to the training barn when there’s a knock at the front door.

  Archer doesn’t get many visitors. We wake up in the morning and eat, then we go to the training barn for a few hours. In the afternoons, he often goes to visit with his father and check that things with the pack are going all right.

  Malcolm does as much leading as he can from his bed, but there’s a lot he still needs Archer for, and their close relationship is amazing to behold. Sometimes I go with him, and sometimes I give him privacy. It’s become a routine, one I’ve thoroughly begun to enjoy—especially as our training sessions have helped me hone my powers and become more comfortable in my skin.

  Archer excuses himself and pads to the front door in his bare feet. He looks soft and rumpled this morning in athletic shorts and a thin t-shirt, his golden hair mussed from bed. I watch him disappear from sight and lift my coffee, listening to the low rumble of voices at the front of the house. Ridge is reading a book and sipping his coffee, while Trystan and Dare are arm wrestling in between their empty plates. I cup my mug and smile at them all, stunned all over again by just how lucky I am.

  When Archer returns a moment later, his face looks a little more tired than it did when he walked away. He picks up his plate and mug and carries them to the sink. “I have to go to my father’s this morning to deal with some pack business. He’s… he’s having a bad day and is unable to handle it on his own.”

  “Oh no. I’m so sorry,” I tell him, hopping to my feet to join him at the sink. I wrap my arms around his waist and lean into his back, trying to give him what little support and strength I have. “Hug him for me?”

  Archer’s hand is warm over mine on his belly. I can hear the smile in his voice as he says, “Yeah. Of course I will.”

  I step away to let him head to the bedroom to get dressed, wishing I could do more than just hug him. Whenever his father has a bad day, I can see how heavily it weighs on Archer. The two have a strong bond and a loving relationship; I think when Malcolm finally goes, when he can’t fight anymore, Archer will be devastated. I just hope I’m there to help keep his broken pieces together, the way he always has been for me.

  And to be truthful, I’ll miss Malcolm too. I’ve come to have a deep affection for the alpha in my time with his pack.

  Before Archer can leave the room, Trystan speaks up. “You know, if you’d just challenge the old man, you could cut out the middle man and be alpha yourself.”

  Archer pauses by the door to the kitchen, his brow knotted together as he turns to look disdainfully at Trystan. “You want me to challenge a dying man?”

  Trystan shrugs and leans back in his seat in that disinterested way he’s perfected. “I just think you should do what’s right by your pack. Drawing out the transition of power only weakens both your father and you. No one knows who holds the actual authority, and that means both of you will end up losing people’s respect.”

  The room goes quiet. My stomach flips over at the sudden tension that fills the small space.

  “You don’t know anything about my pack’s respect,” Archer says quietly, clutching the door frame with white knuckles. His gaze drops to the hardwood, but I catch a glimpse of the hurt in his eyes before he shuts it down and says calmly, “This is how I’ve chosen to do things, and I stand by that choice. Your pack and your values are not my own.”

  Ridge slams his book to the table, cutting a withering glare at Trystan. “I respect your choices, Archer. Your father is a great man, and so are you. I’d be happy to join you, if you need some backup to deal with your issue?”

  “Yeah, me too,” Dare says, sliding his chair back to put distance between him and Trystan. He’s a little more reserved in his emotions, but I can tell he thinks Trystan stepped too far out of line too.

  Archer nods, meeting their gazes one by one. “Honestly, having backup might not be a bad thing. If you don’t mind.”

  “I’ll clean up breakfast,” I add. There’s no way my presence at a pack problem would do anything but hinder what needs to be done, but I can definitely wash dishes and wipe up. Most days, Archer won’t even let me help, he’s so intent on taking care of me. At least this way, I can take care of him for once.

  Archer crosses back to me where I’m still standing at the sink, and gives me a slow, toe-curling kiss. Just our lips, no tongue, no hands, and still hotter than a summer day. “That would be really great,” he murmurs when he pulls away. “As long as you don’t mind.”

  “Not even in the slightest.” I touch his face, then motion for him to get a move on. “I’ll see you when you get back.”

  Ridge grins at me, then takes my hand and tugs me in for a second searing kiss that sends heat firing up my cheeks. Dare clasps my shoulder and pecks the side of my forehead, which isn’t going to make anybody’s skin warm, but it’s still a world of difference from where we were a week ago.

  We haven’t revisited the passionate kiss we shared several days ago, but it’s there between us, filling the air with a charged sort of energy. I know he can feel it too, although we’re both ignoring it.

  So for now, I take this soft peck as an overwhelming gesture of affection coming from him.

  I make a show of gathering all the dishes and dumping them into the sink while I listen to the three shifters prepare to leave. I told Archer I’d clean up from breakfast, and I will. But the main reason I want to remain behind is to talk to Trystan.

  Archer is one of the sweetest people I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing, and in my world, a man like that is someone to celebrate. No rough edges, no sharp, cutting words, just a good man with a good heart, honest and kind. Seeing the pain cross his expression after Trystan’s uncalled for “advice” has set my nerves on edge.

  Within a few minutes, Archer, Ridge, and Dare are ready to go. I hear the distinct click of the door shutting behind them, and their muffled voices fade as they stride away from the house.

  As soon as I can no longer hear them, I round on Trystan, letting my full irritation with him shine in my eyes.

  “You asshole,” I seethe, snatching his coffee mug right out of his hand. It’s not even empty, but I toss it in the sink anyway, sudsy water splashing over the wall from the force of my anger.

  He blinks up at me. “I wasn’t done with that.”

  “Yes. You are,” I snap, planting my hands on my hips. “Why did you say that to Archer? God, you can be such a smug, self-righteous know-it-all sometimes! You have no right to tell anyone else how to run their pack or how to feel about their families. Do you even have a heart?”

  He’s finally come to the realization that I’m not kidding. He stands, looming over me with his jaw set. “I have a heart.”

  “You do a shitty job of convincing me you do,” I point out, steeling myself to glare up at him. I won’t back down. “Can’t you see that it’s killing Archer to watch his father waste away? He can’t do anything to save him, but he can make Malcolm’s last months comfortable.”

  “He could be comfortable laid up without his alpha responsibilities,” Trystan barks. “Archer’s duty is to keep his pack together. To make them strong enough to ward of
f any outside threats. This show of weakness is dangerous to everyone, and it throws the whole pack hierarchy into confusion.”

  “You don’t know that!” My voice has gotten louder, as if it can help me get through his thick skull. “I haven’t met a single member of this pack who doesn’t love and respect Malcolm—and Archer too. No one here seems to have a problem with the way they’ve decided to hand off power. The only one who has an issue is you, and this isn’t even your pack!”

  Trystan blinks as I finish my vehement tirade. His mouth opens and closes a few times, but he doesn’t immediately answer me.

  I scoff. “See? Exactly what I mean. You live in this little bubble where your outlook on life is the only perspective worth having. You’re so sure that you’re always in the right, and you run over everyone in your path to prove it.”

  His jaw clenches. His expression is tight, and I can’t tell if he’s pissed or hurt by my words. “You think I run over people?”

  “Yes.”

  I step closer to him, jutting my chin out. Everything I’m saying has been building up inside me for a long time, and it feels damn good to let it out. I like Trystan. I might even be falling in love with him. But I can’t stand by and let him hurt people just because he’s too stubborn and confident to see things from another perspective.

  “I don’t run over you,” he argues, a hint of steel in his voice. “You’re still standing. Standing up to me, actually, like I’m not a foot taller and twice your size.”

  “Well, somebody has to,” I snap.

  I open my mouth, about to say more, when the true weight of his words hits me. I realize with a start that Trystan’s right. I can stand up to him.

  Me. The girl who lived with an abusive uncle for far too long because I was terrified of what running might mean.

  Even though my limbs are shaking with adrenaline at the confrontation with Trystan, I haven’t backed down. It was more important to me to confront him about what he said to Archer, to show him how he’s hurting both himself and the people around him with his attitude.