by Dana Archer
“Sounds that way.”
“Why?” The single word tightens my chest with a wave of anxiety.
“He told you. Death is coming.”
“But what does that mean?”
Ezra shrugs. “Could mean many things considering we’re talking about Ilan. He is death.”
A rock drops in my belly. I exhale slowly. It doesn’t help. I feel as though I’ve been punched in the stomach. “He’s death? Can you explain that a little more, please?”
“Ilan’s an assassin, but he’s also known as an angel of death or an angel of the Host.”
Assassin.
The word stabs me in the chest, right over my heart. Or at least that’s what it feels like. I press the heel of my hand against the ache there. Ilan’s betrayed me. Made me think he was honorable. That he was a good guy who saved humans and babies.
The image of Ilan holding the little boy in the next room returns and pushes out the disturbing implications of Ilan actually being an assassin.
“Ilan’s an assassin.” There’s doubt in my voice, but I have to speak the truth. I can’t see Ezra lying about something like this.
“Many of our kind revere the angels of death, treating them almost as kings or actual deities.” A soothing quality slips into Ezra’s voice as if he knows how much his announcement shook me. “It’s said that if you look an angel in the eye, death has passed over you. At least that day.”
I latch on to Ezra’s explanation and twine it into the memory of Ilan with his nephew. “So he’s not a bad guy, then?”
Ezra laughs, a deep, rich sound. “Shifters are predators pretending to be humans, Sara. We’re all a little bad. We kill what threatens our loved ones, just as the wild animals we house would if they roamed free. Ilan takes it a step further and kills whoever he’s told needs to die. No questions asked. I don’t know if that makes him bad or not. That’s only something you can decide.”
Pushing against the edge of the table, Ezra stands. The dish rag slips. I jerk my gaze to his face. He plants his hands on the table and leans close. “And you better decide quickly. Ilan will bite you the minute he gets you naked. I don’t doubt that for a second. You’re his. He won’t want to lose you.”
I resist the urge to touch my shoulder. While I examined the vicious-looking bite the minute Ilan left with Dante and Uri, I haven’t had a chance to consider what it means other than a wicked scar from an overzealous boyfriend. If that’s what Ilan is to me. We never got a chance to talk after he kissed me…after he bit me. Covering the bite and focusing on what had to be done was more important. Now, though? I want to know what Ilan’s bite means, even if I have to get my answers from someone else.
“Bite me?” I lick my lips and hope I sound curious and not guilty. “As in, sink his fangs into me?”
“Yes. Here.” Ezra slaps his hand over the spot where his shoulder meets his neck. “He’ll bite you here, claiming you as his.”
“And what exactly does it mean to be claimed by him?”
Ezra’s features pinch, the confused look softening this rough man’s features. “It’ll mean you’re his, but if that’s not something you want, take Jarah’s offer. He’ll make sure death doesn’t find you when it comes here. I believe that. While I don’t know him, his name is well known. His word is law. He is the Host.”
“I don’t know. I—”
“Think about it.” Ezra cuts me off. “And if you decide to leave, I’ll even go with you to Charleston. As a human.”
For a man who doesn’t interact with humans, Ezra’s offer is immense. “Okay, I’ll think about it.”
A small dip of his chin is the only response I get. His image fades. A lion’s replaces it. A dark shaggy mane to match Ezra’s messy hair brushes against my arm as he turns and heads into the living room. He settles in front of the bassinet, and I make my way to my bedroom.
With the door closed, I step in front of the mirror and unbutton the top few buttons on my flannel, then push the soft material away from the four raised points of the bite Ilan left on me. While Ezra’s offer was significant, it came too late. There’s no denying my situation.
I’ve been claimed by an assassin.
Twelve
Ilan
Noon came and went. Still, I’ve lingered at the run-down home of the murdered human. I have no worry I’ve missed my blood brother. I know Daegan. He’s watching me, waiting until the blanket of darkness falls before approaching. He’ll do so in a big cat’s form, and big cats, especially Daegan’s unique felines, do not belong in the woods of West Virginia or anywhere, for that matter. Except maybe hell.
With my feet propped on the railing of the porch, the splash of color in the western sky serves as my entertainment while I await the coming darkness. Years ago, a vibrant range of hues brightened the sky, a last hurrah before night fell. The advancement of humans has dimmed the glory of nature. Not killed it, only shrouded it, forcing the world to change. And change it will. There is no end for this realm or the immortals walking on it. There’s only evolution.
I too will advance with Sara and my nephew by my side, but how I progress is anyone’s guess. I only know I will continue. I have to. Men like me are not welcome in the heavens.
The last hint of orangish red fades, leaving a darkened gray blanketing the world, the precursor of darkness. A hush falls, silencing the creatures for the briefest of moments.
My time has arrived.
Pushing to my feet, I move to the top of the stairs and lean against the railing. Then wait. My breath fogs the cold air, and a few flakes of snow fall, the first sign of a series of storms projected to hit this area and plunge temperatures to the single digits. Neither the frigid air or snow concern me. I’m used to the cold and the dark.
So is my blood brother.
A dark shape moves through the woods in front of this house. I track its progress but don’t advance to meet the approaching shifter. This section of the state, and those in it, belong to me. Few here matter to me, however. The human who lives in this run-down home is one of those who does. At least she does as of today. It’s only right I look out for the widow and her unborn. The blood of her soul mate stained my kitchen floor.
Daegan will understand this. I left him standing in front of a human’s hut centuries ago, the only survivor of a feral shifter who terrorized a long-gone village.
Red eyes focus on me from the darkened thickets. Time passes as I hold Daegan’s gaze. He doesn’t move, not to come closer or to turn away. He waits on me, as is expected when entering another shifter’s territory.
Finally, I dip my head in welcome. The lion turns, and I lose sight of its red eyes as the massive beast rounds the interwoven mess of bushes and shrubs. I hear Daegan, though. He’s not masking his approach. There’s no need. By meeting my gaze, Daegan’s assured me he’s here as a friend, not an angel ready to deliver death.
From the opening in the overgrowth, the black lion I haven’t seen in centuries emerges. It steps onto the grass, its paws crunching the icy blades. Then stops.
Memories return, some good, some troubling. My blood brother and I haven’t always agreed. Such is the fate of siblings. Daegan is my brother too, even if the only blood tie we share is that of our enemies spilled at our hands.
On an exhaled breath that fogs the air around his pitch-black mane, Daegan shifts into his human form. The deeply tanned naked body of my blood brother is covered, head to feet, in tattoos. Passages in various languages decorate his chest while wicked skulls and other dark designs mark his arms, legs, and face. While some untouched skin shows, he’s more inked than not.
Motioning to him with a jerk of my chin, I break the silence between us that’s lasted centuries. “You’ve added to your story.” That’s what he calls his tattoos, anyway, the story of his life.
“As you’ve added to yours.” Daegan inclines his head. “It’s inevitable.”
“True, but at this rate, you’ll run out of skin to ink.”
A small lift to one corner of Daegan’s mouth is the only sign of amusement I expect from him. He turns, exposing his back and rear, both mostly tattoo free. “I have plenty of room left, and if I ever run out, I can pay someone to skin me. Once it grows back, I’ll have a fresh canvas.”
“Pay someone?” I raise a brow. “I’m sure you could find someone to do that for free.” Daegan does have enemies. Many call themselves his pride mates. The Yuran pride is a far cry from a cohesive unit.
“None I’d trust with a knife anywhere near me.” Daegan’s pale blue eyes lock on to me. There’s nothing in those eyes, no emotion, no insight, no indication he feels anything. “Except maybe you. Care to do the deed when the time comes?”
I have no desire to cause my blood brother pain, but I recognize his offer for what it truly means. Despite our rocky past, he trusts me. “Only if my name makes it onto your walking canvas.”
Daegan ambles forward. He climbs the steps, the wood groaning under his massive frame, then holds his arms out, palm side up. On one forearm, my name is inked in the old language while our mentor’s name decorates the other limb.
I raise my gaze but not my head and meet the deadened eyes of my blood brother. “Why did you send two humans to their death?”
Daegan drops his arms and leans against the opposite support beam. “I was following orders. Their death was unexpected and unfortunate.”
“Whose orders?”
“My pride leader’s. I was to deliver the baby and leave before you could ask me questions.”
I motion to him. “You didn’t leave.”
“No, I didn’t, and now I’m answering your questions. The Krisban males’ interference in my task changed the rules. There was no way anyone should’ve known about the baby. The fact they did means a Yuran pride member has betrayed you.”
“And if I’ve been betrayed, so have you.”
Again, Daegan dips his head. “Whether intentionally or not, I’ve been pitted against a member of my pride. There’s only one outcome to such a fate.”
The Yuran traitor who told a rival pride about my nephew dies.
“By my hands, understand?” Otherwise, Daegan might be cast from his pride for killing another member, forcing the ancient to walk alone. Rogue shifters have no ties to the heavens and no one to welcome them if they lose their lives in this realm.
“Still looking to protect me?”
“How did your pride get their hands on my nephew?” I ignore Daegan’s question, asking one of my own. My loyalty to Daegan needs no confirmation.
Daegan shrugs. “My pride mate delivered the baby, then followed the orders as left by your brother.”
“Which brother?”
“Brock. His pregnant mate joined him in death.”
Eyes closed, I let the few memories I have of my twin return. Disgust taints them. Brock’s abhorrence, not mine. He considered me a disgrace to the mighty and powerful Kane name because of what I do.
A bitter laugh shakes my chest. “I’m surprised he entrusted his son to me. Surely, Brock knew there’d only be one fate for the child with me as his guardian.”
“I have no answer for you. I was only completing the task as assigned to me.”
I don’t expect any answers from Daegan. Being an assassin, he would’ve been considered as much an inferior in Brock’s eyes as I am, but Daegan’s answer spurs another question.
“Only one baby?” Single babies are a rarity for Royals and more often a result of pregnancy complications than the mother carrying only one fetus.
Daegan shrugs. “I was only given one baby, and I gave it to the humans who died in your kitchen as per Asa’s command just as any good little pride member obeys his leader.”
After a long moment, I nod. There’s nothing else I can do. If there were other babies, they weren’t entrusted to me. Doesn’t mean I’ll ignore the possibility I have more Kane pack members in this world. I can’t act until I’m sure the innocent life I’ve been entrusted with is safe, however. “You have nothing else to tell me, do you?”
“Nothing that’ll help in your quest to eliminate the threat to your nephew.”
I study the tattooed assassin who trained at my side until our mentor sent us out into the world. “But you know something.”
“I know many things.” The statement holds no indication of being smug. It’s simply spoken as truth.
“About me.” I offer the qualifier.
“Your embarrassing failure was the topic of discussion among the Host a few years ago.”
“I’m not surprised. I did break one of the cardinal rules.” And have been waiting for the backlash to hit me.
“But on Jarah’s insistence, they accepted the edict of the Shifter Council as being sufficient punishment.”
As the eldest leader of the Host, Jarah’s word is law, but he rarely acts to influence the decisions made by the ancient firstborns who made up the Host. “How did Jarah pull that off?”
“It didn’t take much, honestly. The Host knows you enjoy moving from place to place and avoiding human interaction. Being stuck living among humans while babysitting a barely mature single shifter was seen as a fitting sentence. Your fate amused some of the ancients, honestly. Jarah got the brunt of the teasing, asking what he did to his protégés to turn them into babies.”
Because I’m not the only one of Jarah’s pupils who took time off from acting as assassins to watch over humans. Daegan has done so more than once. Nothing was ever said about his sabbaticals, which is why I never quite understood why my protégé was targeted for caring about other shifters or humans.
“Jarah taught us actions have consequences.” Though I don’t particularly like to recall those lessons, they’ve shaped me into the man I am today, and while I have no proof, I’m convinced allowing Mya to live made me worthy of a true mate.
With an unblinking gaze only a feline shifter could pull off, Daegan studies me. “Was Jarah correct?”
“When he made us experience the consequences of our actions?” I raise a brow in question, but Daegan’s steady stare never wavers. “Absolutely. Royals are the flesh and blood of the goddesses. If we don’t temper our instincts, we don’t deserve to remain in a realm where even deities can’t walk.”
“And men like us revoke those privileges from those who abuse their strengths.” Daegan tilts his head as he continues his focused study of me. “But that’s not what I was referring to.”
“No games, brother. What are you asking me?”
“Has your internment here been as unpleasant as Jarah painted it?”
Every inch of my body tenses, but I’m positive my tension doesn’t show outwardly. Daegan’s not the only one who can pull off a nonemotional mask. “I’ve had the basics necessary for life. Food, water, shelter.”
“And women?”
“Sex isn’t necessary. You and I both know that.” Because once lust rules a man, instincts are hampered, leaving him open to threats he can’t see.
“You’re telling me you’ve been living in one area for over six years and haven’t sampled the locals?” While spoken as a question, Daegan’s voice has an accusatory quality to it.
“No.” I turn slightly, leaning against the support beam at my back. “Not being able to leave the area after the sex is over adds complications I had no desire to deal with.”
“True.” Daegan slowly dips his chin, his gaze never leaving mine. “But even abstaining from sex hasn’t saved you from the locals’ infatuation.”
Tension winds into my muscles. I don’t like the direction this conversation is going. “What do you know?”
“Some ancients find it…convenient…that Dante’s very valuable sister ended up mating the human owner of a bar where you work.”
Protective instincts I never felt for anyone beyond my pack, Daegan, and Jarah flare to life. I recognize the signs and even know why the urge to fight the threats to Josh and his mate, Mira, consume me. The human male is a friend, an unexpected one, but stil
l one that’s worthy of my protection. “I was not involved in the events that allowed the two to mate.”
Daegan raises a hand. “I’m not saying you were involved. I’m merely passing on what I’ve heard.”
“And why would these ancients think I was involved?”
“Coincidence.”
“Coincidence?” I raise a brow at the ridiculousness of Daegan’s answer.
“Yes. Coincidence.”
Biting back a curse, I glare at Daegan. “Not seeing you for centuries won’t save you from a beating, brother. I don’t have time for games.”
“Because you have a female to return to.”
My chest aches from my caught breath. I exhale, forcing out the tension settling in my muscles. “I have a female caring for my nephew, yes. There’s still a threat to them walking the streets of this town.”
“Sara has protection. She’s in no danger.”
“How do you know her name?”
Arms crossed over his chest, Daegan relaxes, his body slouching. “I know many things about her and her infatuation with you. This isn’t my first visit to West Virginia.”
“You’ve spied on me.” And the fact I didn’t know there was an ancient in my town is testimony to just how good my blood brother is at what he does. Of course, so am I. We were trained by the same ancient, raised to call him Father.
“On Jarah’s orders.” Daegan lowers his voice. “Secretly, Ilan. I was not here on behalf of the Host.”
“Why was Jarah so concerned about me that he’d send you to spy on me?”
“You allowed a target to live, then not only acted to clear her name but advocated for the death of her mate.”
“Breeding partner.” Todd didn’t deserve the title of mate to Mya. “And his crimes should’ve earned him a death sentence. I simply brought those punishable acts to light. The Council chose to ignore them since he was in a fertile relationship, and I abided by their decision. There is nothing else to say concerning the matter.”
“Why?”
“I just told you why. Stop with the games and say what you’re trying to get me to admit.” A growl darkens my voice. I can’t help the telltale sign of my agitation. This is the type of behavior that usually ended up with us in a bloody tangle of claws and fists.
