by Dana Archer
“Why did you allow the female to live? There was documented evidence that Mya meant to expose our species’ secret. Moreover, her fate was sealed by the Host. As its instrument, you shouldn’t have considered the possibility the single shifter was wrongly accused. You should’ve acted.”
And Mya’s death would’ve meant Peyton and Rey, the two little girls who smile at me every time I see them, would never have been born.
Unable to maintain an indifferent expression, I push away from the railing and take the steps to the front yard. A dusting of snow covers the ground, obscuring the paw prints of the black lion who stood here not long ago. The cold flakes land on my skin but don’t melt. No need to waste energy warming my body. I won’t freeze to death.
“Why did you allow Mya Ammon to live?” Daegan’s voice comes from behind me.
“Instinct.” I shrug but don’t turn to look at my blood brother. “My wolves looked upon the female and saw innocence growing within. I couldn’t strike it down.”
“She was pregnant.”
“Yes.” And if this reasoning satisfies my blood brother’s curiosity, I’ll build on the excuse, turning it into something believable, when in truth, I hadn’t noticed Mya’s state until afterward. The sight of Mya in Sara’s arms was what originally gave me pause. Mya’s condition only spurred my desire to see her breeding partner dead.
“Jarah didn’t believe the excuse you gave to the Shifter Council.” Daegan steps in front of me, stopping just beyond my personal space. “Once I observed the situation, neither did I. Now I know I was correct in my assumption.”
“And what assumption is that?” I let the challenge show in my eyes. Daegan’s pushed me to the edge. Any more of this sidestepping conversation and we’ll finish it by spilling blood in this front yard.
“Sara is your true mate.”
It takes every ounce of discipline I possess not to react. Instead, I hold Daegan’s gaze. “All shifters are promised peace in the form of a true mate.”
“And Sara is yours.” Daegan’s hands raised in a pacifying gesture stops my response. “I’m not a threat to you or your true mate. I’m simply answering your question about what I know.”
“Who else suspects Sara’s importance to me?” No use denying it. My bite and scent are a part of Sara, and her soul is a part of mine. Bonds like that don’t stay secret for long.
“Jarah.”
“No one else?”
“I have no knowledge of anyone else knowing, but that doesn’t mean they don’t. Anyone who witnessed how Sara acted in your presence for any amount of time would guess the same thing.”
“She acts as a human who lusts after a male.” I shake my head, refusing to believe Sara’s obvious attraction would’ve come off as anything besides desire. “Many women have looked at me the same way.” I sweep a hand over my body. “I’m built as a warrior. This era views such male bodies as pleasing.”
“And for once, my tattoos are attractive and not frightening.” Daegan smirks. “I know this, but Sara’s attentive looks held yearning. It was almost painful to witness from a distance. No doubt the longing was more pitifully obvious up close.”
My shoulders slump the tiniest bit. Shame is not an emotion I’ve dealt with over my long life. I feel it now, however. “I had no intention of claiming Sara. She doesn’t belong in our world.”
“But you will be now.” Not a question.
“Yes.” Daegan doesn’t need my reasoning of why. Only Sara does. She is the one I’ve shamed.
“Then I will stay and eliminate the threat to her life.”
“While I appreciate the offer, I’d rather you find out why my nephew was targeted.”
“Likely because he was Brock’s son.”
“Likely isn’t a good enough answer. I need facts if I’m to protect him from future threats.”
Daegan grabs my shoulder, squeezing firmly. “Done.”
“Do you have a cell phone?”
“Of course.” Daegan gives me a look that questions my sanity. “We live in the era of technology.”
I pull out my phone and create a contact profile for Daegan, then hand over the phone. “Give me your number.”
Daegan enters the information and passes my cell back. I send a text to the number and glance at my blood brother. “There’ll be a message from me waiting for you.”
“I’ll be in touch, then.” Daegan turns and walks to the edge of the forest. Before he disappears, he rests his hand on a tree trunk but doesn’t look back at me. He stares into the darkened woods. “Congratulations on earning the blessing of your goddess, Ilan.”
For the first time in six years, I agree with Daegan. Meeting Sara is a gift, and it’s one I’m finally ready to claim.
Thirteen
Sara
This baby in my arms has saved me from crumpling under the onslaught of all I’ve learned over the past day. Every time I felt ready to scream or sob, he let out a cry, demanding my attention. All the angry and frustrated thoughts choking me slipped into the background. Night falling has amplified those emotions, however. Now even taking care of this nameless child isn’t enough to calm me.
The sun slipped behind the horizon hours ago. Still no word from the assassin who’s claimed me. All I have are questions. Without answers, my mind is filling in the blanks. That’s a dangerous practice. Assumptions can ruin even the strongest relationship. What Ilan and I have doesn’t come close to solid. I’m not even sure relationship is the right word for this thing between us. Ownership, maybe?
Formula dribbles over the baby’s chin, drawing me out of my thoughts. I wiggle the bottle, testing to see if he’s actually done or just taking a break from eating. He turns his head, releasing the nipple. Using a burp rag, I wipe his face. He watches me with a droopy-eyed expression, sleep only moments off.
Being careful not to jostle him, I stand and make my way to the bassinet. His eyes open before we reach it. His alert gaze flicks to mine. There’s anticipation in his expression, as if something shiny and new has caught his attention. There’s nothing here, though. The darkened room is quiet.
Although this child doesn’t appear stressed, tension slips into my shoulders, tightening them. The lion shifter Ezra scared off early this morning is still on the loose, and this baby has instincts I don’t possess.
With the baby in my arms, I head into the kitchen and look out the glass door. Light snow falls, hampering my view of the street. Nothing moves in my backyard, but something had. Footprints lead from the gate down the walkway. Friend or foe? No way to tell.
I cradle the baby one-handed against my chest and draw a cleaver from the knife block, then take slow steps away from the door. I’ve witnessed how quickly Ezra can move. He’ll come immediately if there’s danger. I don’t know this visitor to my house, however. I can’t take the chance he can move faster than my protector, and I’d rather look the fool with my random weapon than fail this child.
My windowless living room is my safe haven. Keeping my gaze on the kitchen door, I head there, backing up slowly with my focus on the door. At the archway, a palm clamps over my mouth. The heavy cleaver is plucked from my hands. My nostrils flare on a sharp inhale, but I don’t scream. The baby in my hands is looking in the direction of the man holding me and making happy sounds.
“Are you planning on killing my nephew’s enemies?”
The tension drains from my limbs with Ilan’s question whispered in my ear. I relax in his embrace, leaning against his solid chest.
He brushes his nose against my neck. “Well, Sara? Would you kill for my littlest pack member? Because I’ll leave a gun with you. A bullet between the eyes will take out single shifters and disable most Royals long enough for you to run.”
“How did you get in here? The downstairs door is locked.” Hopefully, Ilan will accept the change in subject. I don’t want to answer him. Acting in the moment is one thing; contemplating whether I’d commit murder to protect this child is another.
&n
bsp; “Ezra shifted and let me in. Surprised me, but it saved me from having to call you to open the door. I didn’t want to wake the baby.”
“He’s awake now.”
Ilan steps around us and returns the cleaver to its spot in the wooden block. Instead of the loose sweatpants he left my house in this morning, jeans hug his tight rear and muscular legs, and a black T-shirt clings to his wide chest. His short hair and the dusting of a beard complete the look I’ve come to expect from Ilan. His tough-guy persona conveys confidence, a wicked self-assuredness only a man comfortable in his own skin can pull off.
“I always feel so safe when you’re working, as if there’s not a guy who comes into the bar who can win a fight against you.” The confession comes out of nowhere.
“I’m one of the oldest Royals.” Arms crossed over his chest, Ilan leans against the counter, pulling off a sexy slouch that draws my gaze down the length of his body. “There are only a few males walking this earth who’d test my strength.”
Jarah’s words come back to me. No matter the confusing emotions gripping me, protecting the man I’ve lusted over for what seems like forever is more pressing. Assassin or not, Ilan doesn’t deserve death, at least not from what I’ve seen of him. He’s only ever acted with honor around me. That truth is what’s kept me in this house, waiting on Ilan, instead of driving to Charleston with Ezra to escape him.
Who am I to fault Ilan for what he’s done? If I did, I’d be a hypocrite. My grandmother was in the army. She’s killed men she knew nothing about other than being labeled the enemy by her commander.
I hold Ilan’s nephew a little tighter instead of reaching for him. “Would any of those men ever come after you?”
A long moment passes before he gives a half shrug. “Won’t matter if they do. Death won’t claim me. It fears me.”
“You can’t be sure of that. Nobody can outrun death forever. Sooner or later, it’ll come for you.”
Ilan pushes away from the counter and cups the side of my face. His thumb brushes over my skin. “Your concern warms me, but it’s not necessary.”
“But—”
“How is my nephew?”
Ilan cuts me off. Obviously, he doesn’t want to talk about any potential threats he might face. While I’d like to push the issue and find out more about Jarah, it’s not a conversation I want to have while holding this baby. I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to keep my emotions in check, and he’s too attuned to those around him.
I glance into the baby’s face. He’s looking in Ilan’s direction with an intensity I’ve only ever seen on two other babies’ faces. Peyton and Rey had always followed their mother with an equally focused gaze. Now I know why. “He’s good, but I think he’s missed you.”
“I think you’re right.” Ilan skims his knuckles over the baby’s cheek. “He recognizes me as pack.”
“He looks like you too.” Although Ilan’s already denied this baby being his, the resemblance is uncanny.
“Yes. I suppose this is what I must’ve looked like as a baby.”
“No pictures?”
“No.” Amusement settles in Ilan’s eyes. While I’ve always loved the ordinary brown, I no longer want to look into them. The contacts mask his natural color, veiling what lurks inside Ilan. Now that I’ve seen the wildness, I want to lose myself there.
“Didn’t your parents take any?”
“How old do you think I am?”
I study Ilan’s strong features, the uneven growth of beard that always looks to be at the perfect length, enough to tease a woman’s skin but not long enough to get in the way of exploring him, and the body that could’ve been carved from stone. While I’ve changed since I started working at the Black Widow—gaining weight, losing it, toning up—Ilan’s stayed the same. He’s already told me the reason why. The consequences of his revelation stare back at me.
“You’re immortal, right? So it’s hard to tell. You could be old enough to be my grandfather and I wouldn’t know.” Put that way, it’s no wonder Ilan’s avoided me. I might be too young for him. Of course, if the way he touched me earlier today was any indication, he’s gotten over whatever obstacle kept him from me.
Ilan takes the baby from me, cradling him against his chest as if he’s been holding babies his entire life, then walks into the living room. He doesn’t lay the baby down, though. Ilan holds his hand out to me. Shadows leave him shrouded in darkness, only his outstretched hand luring me closer. I glide my palm along his, and he draws me against him, the baby between our bodies. “Each shifter is promised peace in the form of a true mate, one soul who is meant to complement his, balancing the wildness he holds and turning him into the ultimate warrior.”
“That sounds like something out of a romance novel. The quest for true love.”
“Love is a lie, Sara. Don’t fall for it.” Ilan releases my hand and slides his fingers over the back of my neck, then into my hair so he’s cradling my head. “My grandmother passed this truth down to me. I finally understand what she meant.”
Ilan’s words hurt. They shouldn’t. We’re not together, at least not in any way I understand. “Love is powerful. So powerful, it surpasses death. My grandmother told me that truth.”
“Love is fluid. It can ebb and flow, filling a void in a man’s heart one day and leaving him barren the next. It can be the binding factor between pack mates, children and parents, enemies and friends. It can take many shapes and extremes, driving men to proclaim war and declare peace. So, yes, your grandmother is correct. Love is powerful, but…” Ilan lowers his voice as if conveying a secret. “Love is not the reason the goddesses hand-selected a soul to complement each shifter, and those males who claim a female only in the name of love are fools.”
I don’t like this conversation or the hurt settling in my heart. I have no reason to feel it. Reminding myself of this isn’t helping, however. I’ve been half in love, half in lust with Ilan for years, too many years. I’ve spent over half a decade infatuated with a man who doesn’t believe in love. “Why give each shifter a true mate, then?”
“Power.” Ilan breathes the word into me. “To make him one of the chosen, the blessed, the most feared. Only a true mate can do that, Sara. Make her male godlike.”
While his answer isn’t the romanticized one I hoped to hear, there’s reverence in his voice. “True mates are rare, then?”
“Yes, very rare. Many shifters question whether true mates actually exist or if it’s a myth.”
“Since you’re telling me about true mates, I’m guessing they aren’t a myth.”
“Not a myth. A blessing from the goddesses, one that must be earned.” Ilan dips his head, bringing his mouth to mine, but he doesn’t kiss me. The warmth of his breath skips energy over my skin, leaving me very aware of the man standing in front of me. “You’re mine, Sara.”
Inhaling sharply, I jerk back but can’t go anywhere. Ilan’s firm hold keeps me locked in place, my lips a breath away from his. There’s no escaping Ilan or this conversation. “Your true mate?”
“Yes.”
The softly spoken word slips into my heart. I close my eyes, unsure if I should be happy or sad at the confirmation. My true mate is a man who believes love is a lie.
Ilan turns my head and skims his parted lips along my jaw to my ear. “I’ve waited so very long for you too. Longer than most, less than some, but still too long. I’d convinced myself I’d never find you.”
“How long?” The veneration in his voice turns my heart over. Ilan might not believe in love but the promise of his worship is twined into his words.
“Thousands of years, Sara.”
“Thousands of years.” My voice sounds small, weak, shocked. I don’t know how else to respond to Ilan’s statement. When he said he was immortal, I didn’t expect him to be thousands of years old. A hundred maybe, but not thousands.
“Yes. For thousands of years, I’ve wandered this earth. Walked in forests that are nothing but sand and desolation now. Witnes
sed the rise and fall of empires. Shared the same air as animals who no longer call this planet home. Watched humans live and die, over and over until their lives blended into a continuous slideshow with no individual being mattering to me. They were all the same. A flicker of life extinguished too soon. Then I…” He curls his fingers around a section of my hair, tugging on the strands and making my scalp tingle. “Then I found you when I least expected.”
The full scope of Ilan’s words settle over me while the baby held between us grips my shirt, anchoring me to this moment and reminding me of everything that’s happened since Ilan walked into the Black Widow all those years ago looking for a job application. “You knew we were true mates all along?”
Ilan’s sigh slashes me as if it held a physical edge. “Yes, I knew the moment I saw you. There was no mistaking our connection. My wolves’ demand I claim you then and there changed my life.”
“But you didn’t claim me then.” I step back, forcing Ilan to either release me or pull chunks of my hair out. His tight fist eases, and his fingers slide through the strands of my hair as I put space between us. The baby whimpers as he too loses his hold on me. I ball my hands, my anger too great to contain. “You barely spoke to me after that night. A handful of times. That was it. And I think you looked at me even less.”
“Yet your gaze followed me. Every chance you got you snuck glances at me. Every opportunity you had, you tried to talk to me. Touch me. Why, Sara? Why did you still desire me after I ignored you?”
The accusation in his voice doesn’t match the awe in his tone from moments ago. I rub at my eyes, the ache behind them threatening to turn into a full-blown headache. “I don’t know. Trust me when I say that. I don’t know. I just gravitated to you. Sought you out even if it was only to take in your profile. Looking at you, being near you makes me feel better, stronger. I can’t explain it.”
