by Dana Archer
Crazy foolish woman.
Of course, it’s probably our bond. She might not understand the pull to me or have any concept of true mates, but she feels better near me, just as I feel better near her. As if breathing in the same air can make us stronger. Can make me pure.
It’s a lie.
My grandmother warned her descendants how love blinds us, makes us weak, and turns us into fools. As a goddess, she’d know. As her grandson, I believe her.
I clasp Sara’s wrist. Energy rushes through me, sensitizing my body and strengthening me. I grit my teeth against the power this woman has over me and lead her toward the side of my cabin.
“Wait.” Sara locks her knees, forcing me to drag her or stop.
I stop.
“The baby. We can’t leave the baby. The other lion. I heard it. It’s out there.”
“Baby?” I hear the question in my voice. It angers me. I saw the car seat spin. Heard the baby’s whimper. Witnessed Sara’s protective actions. Yet, the moment I got my hands on Sara, I forgot about the other innocent in my presence.
“Yes, the baby.” Sara shakes off my hold and rushes back to the car. She tugs the blanket back, then inhales sharply. With a hand over her mouth, she steps back. “His eyes… Oh God, Ilan. His eyes.”
The anxiety radiating from her draws me to her side. “What’s wrong with—”
My words get stuck in my throat. The aura surrounding the newborn tells me everything I need to know, but my shifter nature denies it. There’s no scent linking this child to my pack. It smells like a human baby, not a Royal shifter or a descendent of the powerful Kane goddess. I get no sense of the wolves it carries either, though I know it must have three—white, black, and gray—just like I carry within my soul.
“He has your eyes, Ilan.” Sara’s fingertips skim over my cheek. “Orange, just like yours.”
The baby locks his gaze with mine. There’s power behind those orange eyes. I feel the nudge against my soul. This baby who can’t be more than a couple of days old is trying to touch my soul…exactly as a pack member would.
He recognizes me as pack.
I drag my finger over the infant’s cheek, leaving a bloody mark on his skin. The reality of what I’ve done hits me. There’s no taking it back.
I’ve marked this baby with the blood of his enemies.
With the same wet finger, I trace my cheek where the angel of death who claimed me as his protégé marked me and condemned me to the life I’ve lived for thousands of years.
“Ilan.” Sara grips my arm. “We need to get out of here.”
She’s right, of course. I know it, but I can’t tear my gaze from this baby. My nephew. He can’t be anything else. My pack is small. Just me and my brothers.
Brother, not brothers. I can’t forget that. My twin, Brock, lost his life days ago. Now it’s just me and Gabriel, my older brother and the alpha of my pack. Still, one of my brothers must’ve taken a breeding partner even though neither was in any position to bring a life into this world. Or protect it. Yet one of them selfishly had. Now this kid’s alone with an angel of death who just marked him with the blood of his enemies.
Poor kid. He’s screwed. So am I.
Knowing what’s in my soul isn’t appropriate for anyone to see, I bring my wolves closer to my psyche, allowing their souls to reach out and comfort this child.
After a few seconds, the baby makes a murmuring sound, and a wash of energy, like a contented sigh, escapes him. Between one heartbeat and the next, the presence of his wolves resonates within me.
I can’t stop my pleased smile. Days old and this tiny member of the Kane pack sought to protect the animal souls he’s been born with.
“We need to move, Ilan.” Sara tugs the keys from my hand. “Climb in the backseat. I’m getting us out of here.”
My gaze drifts to the cabin. I need to look over those bodies, comb these woods, gather every piece of information I can before that other shifter decides to come back and wipe out any clues I can find. Getting Sara and my nephew to safety is more important.
“Not in this.” Sara’s little hatchback would have trouble outrunning a lawn mower.
With my nephew’s car seat tucked close to my body, I give Sara her purse, grab her hand, and run to the woods. “We’re taking my car, and you’re following my rules from here on out. Got it?”
The irritated look she flicks me is one I never thought to see on Sara’s face. “Until I get some answers from you, I’m only following the rules I want. Got it?”
Sara’s spirit is refreshing, if not naïve. She doesn’t get a say in this. Or in anything. It’s my way or her death. Because that’s the fate awaiting her. She crossed a line tonight, entering a world that’ll rip her to shreds at the first sign of frailty. Sara is not a killer or a fighter. She’s a nurturer. There’s also no denying what else she is.
I steal a glance at my true mate as we climb into my car.
She’s my greatest weakness.
Three
Sara
Sweatpants hang low on Ilan’s hips. My spare pair of sunglasses hide his orange eyes. Flip-flops protect his feet from the cold pavement. Even though he skipped on a shirt, I’m thankful for his attempts to appear human. Nothing he wears will change the fact that he’s not, however. The memory of his blurred image superimposed over the black wolf is one I’ll never forget.
The force of Ilan’s stare compels me to slide my gaze to where he’s standing next to his car, waiting for me to bundle the baby who looks hauntingly like him. I can’t see Ilan’s glowing inhuman eyes from behind the dark lenses, but I feel the power he holds within him.
Like a tingling electric jolt, the air around him sizzles. Standing this close to him, I feel his strength along my skin. He’s no longer veiling what he is. But he has. For six years, I worked with him, lusted over him, craved his attention, and I never knew his secret. He’s duped me all along into believing a lie.
“What?” The bite to my voice isn’t like me. I try so hard to speak with kindness to even the rudest of people. We never know the battles others are fighting. My grandmother once told me that. She’d know this better than anyone. She’d seen the best and worst in life.
“Aren’t you going to ask what I am?”
The deep growl to his voice makes sense now. He’s an animal. Or half animal. Or something. I don’t really know, and ignorance is dangerous. It’s also rude. Ilan saved my life.
I drop my chin to my chest. “When we’re safe. I feel exposed out here.”
Ilan scans the narrow alley in front of my small house. Parked cars and dumpsters line the uneven road, providing plenty of cover for those who might be up to no good.
He crosses his arms over his defined chest, drawing my eye to his tanned, smooth skin. Not a hair mars his beauty. He could’ve been one of those bodybuilders who waxes everything from the neck down. Ilan certainly looks like he spends hours lifting. Except I’ve never seen him in the gym, and I go there every day. There’s only one in town.
“We’re safe now, Sara. Ask me before Dante shows up.”
That name isn’t one I can put a face to, but I’m not all that surprised. Ilan never talked to me over the years we’ve worked together. I know little about him. The only person he ever spoke with is Josh, and that friendship only developed over the past year. “Are you sure Dante will know what kind of diapers and formula to get?”
“Ask me, Sara.”
The compulsion to comply to Ilan’s order is hard to ignore. Especially since I want to know the answer. I won’t endanger his life, though. He saved me.
I pointedly look from my neighbors smoking on their patio to the cook standing behind the Italian restaurant filling plates with leftovers for the neighborhood cats. “Not now. We’re not alone.”
“The cook is hard of hearing, and your neighbors are drunk. They always are about this time of night.”
With my fingers curled around the handle of the car seat, I stare at Ilan, hating those
stupid sunglasses on his face. I can’t see his eyes. How am I supposed to judge his words if I can’t see his eyes? Then again, it’s not as if I can read his sincerity the way I do other people. Ilan’s been lying to me for six years, and I never suspected it.
“How do you know those things? Do you have some kind of power that lets you read people’s minds or something?” If so, I’m going to be mortified. The things I’ve thought about Ilan are wickedly naughty.
For a long time, Ilan doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t move. Finally, he takes the car seat from me, bumps his hip into the car door, slamming it shut, and hits the lock on his key chain. A beep sounds. He turns his back on me and heads directly to the metal gate leading to the tiny yard in front of my house.
I slam my hand over the metal latch before he can lift it. “Ilan, answer me. How do you know those things?”
The baby chooses that moment to let out a whimpering cry. I lift the blanket so he can see my face and smile, hoping my warm expression counters the harshness that was just in my voice. “Hey, little one, hang tight. We’re going to get you inside where it’s warm.”
“Then you should move so I can open the gate.”
The chastisement in Ilan’s statement hits me. I want to remind him he’s the one who wanted to talk, but he’s right. It’s cold out. None of us are dressed for it. I step aside, allowing Ilan past.
He follows the brick path through the garden, then climbs the creaking steps to the porch off my kitchen instead of walking to the door underneath where my mailbox is hung. Everyone who first comes to my house waits at that door for me to let them in. I always end up yelling over the side of the porch to tell them to come up.
Standing at the bottom of the steps, I point to the door under the porch. “This way would’ve been easier, you know.”
Ilan looks over his shoulder. “But that door sticks. You prefer this one so you don’t have to struggle every time you try opening it.”
My limbs shake. I feel the blood drain from my face. I want to curl into a corner somewhere and pull a blanket over my head. “You took that knowledge from my mind. Didn’t you?”
The baby cries. Obviously, he doesn’t like when I raise my voice. I can’t help it. I’ve never been more mortified in my life. Thoughts of Ilan bring me to release every time I touch myself.
Ilan pushes the sunglasses to the top of his head. I’m too far away to see the unusual color, but I feel the force of his will. The hairs on my arms stand up. Ice chills my blood.
“I’ve watched you for years. Every night. Sometimes all night. I know everything there is to know about this neighborhood and you.” Ilan glances at the car seat. “Now I need you to help me with this baby. He’s crying. I think he’s hungry or something. I can’t touch his soul to find out. He’d see what’s in mine. No one can. It’s bad enough I know the things I’ve done.”
For a long moment, I stare at Ilan. I don’t know what he means by touching this baby’s soul, but I do know Ilan has just admitted to stalking me. Watching me all night. I want to ask what he’s seen, but the baby’s pitiful sounds tug at my heart. I rush up the stairs and unlock the door, ushering Ilan and the newborn who looks like him inside.
“We should’ve stopped at a store. I have nothing here. Not even a diaper.” Of course, going into a store with dried blood on my clothes and hands likely would’ve landed us in jail. Still, I could’ve figured something out. Maybe used a snow pile to clean my hands. Ilan’s firm “no” had stopped me from pushing the topic. I should’ve, though. I’m not ready for any of this.
“Dante will bring everything you need.” Ilan pulls a cell phone from his pocket and taps the screen. After a moment, he nods. “And he’ll be here soon.”
“Who is Dante? A friend?”
“Not exactly.”
“A relative? Business associate? What?” Dante has to be somebody important to Ilan to drop everything at well past midnight and shop for baby supplies, no questions asked. I was there while Ilan called.
“My best student, actually. I’m quite proud of the”—Ilan glances at me as he sets the car seat with the still-screaming baby on my kitchen table—“man he’s become.”
I slip under Ilan’s arm, brushing against his muscular chest. He doesn’t move out of my way. Thankfully, the dress I wore to Mya and Rick’s wedding saves me from skin-to-skin contact, but I feel Ilan. His warmth and strength calls to me, tempting me to lean into him. I focus on my task instead. Whoever strapped this baby in had done so with a diligence that had likely saved him from injury.
The moment he’s free, I lift him into my arms, settling this very young baby against my chest. He really is a newborn. A couple of days old, maybe. He turns his mouth to my upper chest and nuzzles against me. After a moment, he cries harder. My heart breaks for him. Where’s his mom? He’s hungry, and I have nothing to offer him. Dante’s on his way, though. He promised to bring everything I need for a newborn boy too.
Bouncing the baby gently, I glance over my shoulder at Ilan. “Dante’s like you, isn’t he? A wolfman.” That’s my best guess anyway. None of the B-rated movies I’ve seen come close to capturing the raw power Ilan displayed, however.
“A wolfman.” Hurt gives Ilan’s normally growling voice a dark quality as if I’d just punched him in the gut.
Wishing I could take the words back, I lay my cheek over the baby’s head. I’ve insulted him too with my careless words. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t right. I know better than to label people.”
Strong hands settle on my hips and turn my body so I’m facing Ilan’s impressive chest. I focus on the definition of his muscles. I can’t look into his face. The reminder that he’s different leaves me with a hollow sensation deep inside me. No wonder he’s ignored me all these years. I’m not like him.
Ilan drags his knuckles over the dried blood on the baby’s cheek. His cries slow to a disgruntled whimper, then stop. After one more soft caress over the baby’s skin, Ilan lifts my chin, forcing me to meet his beautiful eyes. “I’m a Royal wolf shifter, next in line to be alpha of the Kane pack. I can take a wolfman’s form, but I prefer not to. It’s a waste of energy to hold on to the modified form. I’d rather allow one of my wolves free or remain human and rely on my clawed hands or fangs to eliminate my enemy.”
This close to Ilan, I can make out the darker lines in his eyes stretching out from the pupil. The hypnotic quality to them draws me. I can get lost in Ilan, staring into his eyes for eternity. We don’t have forever, though. Dante will be here soon. “Wolves? You have more than the black one I saw?”
Ilan’s gaze maps my face, studying me. I’m not sure what he hopes to find or even what shows in my expression. In this moment, all I want is to get closer to him, learning those things he’s kept from me. Finally, he dips his chin slightly. “Yes. I share my soul and body with a white, black, and gray wolf. All Royals have three animals.”
“Royals? Are you a prince?”
“No, not a prince.”
One corner of Ilan’s mouth lifts in a lopsided smile and gives me a glimpse of a sharpened tooth extending from the line of his straight white teeth. A fang. Or the tip of one. That’s what I’m seeing. He’s letting me see this primal, primitive side of himself. I can’t help but feel privileged. Ilan’s trusting me with this intimate knowledge of the secret life he’s lived.
I touch his cheek. There’s blood on it. I don’t care. There’s blood on me too. “A king, then?”
He exhales slowly. His gaze slips from my eyes to my lips. “In another life, I could’ve been yours, Sara.”
The sadness in his voice hurts. Literally. My chest aches for Ilan. “I don’t understand.”
“I know.” Ilan eases away from me, then turns his back. “It’s better that way.”
With my hand cradling the baby’s neck, I close the distance between us and lay my other palm between Ilan’s shoulder blades. “Ilan, I—”
“I’m the grandson of a goddess.” He steps forward, and my hand d
rops, leaving me feeling as dejected as ever. Nothing new, really, but it hurts. “All Royals are descended from the goddesses, including that baby you’re holding. Their blood flows in our veins, making us stronger and more powerful than any living creature on this earth, and also damning us to be feared, envied, and hated by everyone else, especially the single shifters.”
“Single shifters?” I can guess what those are—people with only one animal. Guessing won’t help me navigate Ilan’s world, however. I need facts.
Ilan moves to the door and stares out the window. “Single shifters are descended from human shamans who were bonded to a predator. All single shifters house one animal. Bear, wolf, tiger, lion…whatever animal that first shaman who birthed their bloodline housed. They’re stronger than humans. Healer quicker. Live longer too. A few hundred years or so. Some feel that’s not enough.”
A strained laugh escapes me. This conversation is surreal. It’s happening, however. I can’t deny the realities I’m facing. “What? Would they prefer a couple of millennia?”
“Actually, they’d prefer immortality. Just as I have. Just as that baby will have if I can keep him alive until he matures.”
Immortality.
Out of all the things Ilan has just told me, that’s the one point that shakes me, leaving me trembling. I don’t belong in Ilan’s world. Or this little boy’s.
I study the tiny newborn in my arms. He looks normal, exactly like any baby I’ve seen, except for his eyes. Orange eyes that match Ilan’s. “He’s yours, isn’t he?”
“Not mine. I don’t create life. I take it.”
The cruel edge to Ilan’s voice slithers over my skin, chilling me. The memory of him killing the lion is all too fresh in my mind. The reason behind his actions is too.
“To protect life. That’s not the same thing.” If I didn’t believe that, I’d never be able to look at my grandmother without thinking her evil. Death is a part of war. Her actions saved thousands of people.
