by Dana Archer
She’ll spend forever in the darkness with me.
As I see it, there’s only one option.
I kiss my true mate, loving her mouth slowly and reverently for an endless moment. With my forehead touching hers, I give Sara my vow. “As my mate commands.”
Seventeen
Sara
Delivering a plate heaping with bloody steaks to the tiger sprawled on my downstairs sofa is another surreal experience to add to the many I’ve lived over the past couple of days, but Ezra still refuses to eat as a human. At least he’s shifting into his human form to use the bathroom. I should be grateful for that. I’m not. This man is even more stubborn than my lover who doesn’t believe in love.
I set the plate of seared, basically raw steaks on the end table, then cross my arms. “You’re acting like a baby. You know that, right?”
The low, menacing snarl trickling from the tiger’s mouth raises the hair on the back of my neck, but I force myself to tap my foot while glaring at Ezra’s tiger. Arguing with my protector is better than worrying about Ilan out there with an assassin stalking him. Thankfully, he has his own protector. From the little I know of Dante, he’s a fierce one.
“I couldn’t care less how much of a mess you make eating. I’ve worked at the Black Widow since I turned eighteen. Drunks are slobs. They make a mess. I clean it up. No biggie. You doing so wouldn’t bother me in the least, and I certainly wouldn’t think less of you if you did make a mess. But this”—I wave, encompassing his huge cat form—“does lower my opinion of you. You’re using your cat form as a shield, and it’s making you look like a coward.”
The words hurt to say, but our earlier encounter reaffirmed my guess as to why he spends most of his days as a cat. He’s wallowing in self-pity. I can’t help but wonder how long he’s lived like this, maybe even hated his human side because of his blindness. It breaks my heart. We have to accept ourselves—even the flawed aspects of our lives—in order to grow into the people we were always meant to be.
Faster than I can process, Ezra shifts and grabs my neck, not hurting me but holding me with enough pressure to remind me pain is only a squeeze of his hand away. He bends closer, and his hot breath bathes my face. “You, woman, are the rudest human I’ve ever met. Didn’t your parents ever tell you to treat those with disabilities nicely? We’re not as strong as everyone else.”
“Liar.” I spit the word at him. “You’re deadly, the best protector I could have. Ilan told me that. He trusts you to guard me and Soren. He trusts you, Ezra. There’s no greater proof of your strength than to have a man like Ilan trust you with the two people who mean the world to him.”
Ezra releases me as quickly as he grabbed me. I stumble backward while he turns and runs a hand over his head, messing his shaggy locks even more. “He trusts my cats, not me. They’re honed hunters, deadlier than most shifters’ animals, and wickedly protective of innocents.”
“You look through their eyes. Don’t you?”
“Yes. Hunters they may be, but they’re wild animals. I can’t give them free rein.”
“Then let them look through your eyes when you’re in your human form.”
Ezra glances over his shoulder. His gaze skips haphazardly over the area behind him before settling on a spot a few feet away from me. “My human eyes don’t work. It doesn’t matter if I try to use them or if they do.”
“Sight isn’t the only way to see.” I’m improvising big-time here. I don’t know what it’s like to be blind, nor do I know anyone who is sightless, but my thoughts make sense, and if they help Ezra, all the better. “Smell, sound, and touch are forms of sight. Using those together can give you insight into your surroundings. Allow your cats to see through those senses.”
Silence stretches between us for a long moment before Ezra’s nostrils flare. He tilts his head slightly, then raises his gaze to mine, meeting my eyes. Of course he can’t see the excitement in them. I know that, but I want to jump for joy at the confirmation he took my somewhat uneducated but gut-instinct advice.
“Ilan is a lucky man to have found you.”
A smile tugs at my lips, and my eyes prick with wetness. “I’m what he needs.”
“Never knew an angel would need his own angel.” Ezra shakes his head, then pats the back of the couch until his fingers make contact with the track pants I left there for him. He manages to pull them on—backward, but they’re still on—and faces me. “Please shove the laundry basket to the side so I can walk to the door without tripping over it.”
“Of course.” I push the basket into the far corner. “Done.”
“Thank you.” Ezra strides forward with a hand out in front of him. “I’m going to sit outside for a little bit. Get some fresh air. I hate being cooped up inside.” He fumbles with the lock, then opens the door. “Yell if you need me.”
“Okay. You do the same.”
Without looking at me, Ezra dips his head. Then he’s gone. The door shuts. I stand there a moment longer, then make my way upstairs. I need to prep some bottles. Soren should be waking soon for another snack.
The moment I reach the second floor, my cell phone rings. I run into my bedroom and snatch it off the charger. “Hello?”
“I waited for you, Sara, but you never showed. How do you expect me to be a hero if you refuse the lifeline I’ve offered you?”
Jarah. I won’t soon forget his voice. Gripping the cell tighter, I make my way to the windows and spread two blinds enough for me to see the street. Night has fallen, making it both harder and easier to take in my surroundings. The areas illuminated by the streetlamps show a few people moving about, a stray cat, and the normal traffic for this time of night. Nothing looks amiss. It’s the shadows that concern me. I can’t see in the dark.
I let the blinds close. “There’s no need for it.”
“You don’t think so?”
“Ilan will defeat any danger that comes at him.”
“Ilan is going to meet death, and—”
“So you’ve said.” I cut him off. I don’t want to hear any doubts about Ilan’s strength. He promised me he’d defeat whoever comes for him. “But I also know Ilan is death, and he’s never had more of a reason to live than he does now.”
“Are you talking about the baby?” Amusement bleeds into his voice. “Or you?”
“Yes.” I won’t qualify which one of us matters. Jarah doesn’t need any confirmation of my worth to Ilan.
“Love is a lie, Sara.” The words echo Ilan’s and send the same chill through me now as they did when Ilan spoke them to me.
“Love is power, Jarah. It can make a man godlike.” If we’re going to play this game, I’ll use Ilan’s phrasing. Likely, it’ll mean something to this shifter who claims to be my mate’s father.
Jarah’s rich laugh fills the line. “I’m sorry we’ll never have the chance to get to know each other. I would’ve liked to see the qualities a true mate needs to complement one of us. It might’ve helped me locate my other half. Alas, it’s too late. You’re as good as dead.”
“I am?” I let a mocking quality taint my words. “Is death so much a coward that it would go after a human female in order to hurt an angel?”
“No, brave little human. Ilan has been marked. No one else will die, but you’ll wish for death once the longing for Ilan consumes you. Every minute of every day, you’ll ache for him. Unless…”
Fisting the front of my shirt, I fight the anxiety Jarah’s prediction causes. “Unless?”
“Unless…unless Ilan heeded his goddess’s warning and claimed his gift, his ticket to heaven. Has he, Sara? Is my son godlike?”
I press my lips together as caution settles in my bones. This shifter might be important to Ilan, but I can’t take the chance he’s turned on him like the assassin coming for him.
“Well, little human? Has Ilan bitten you yet?”
Aware of the fact I might be making a perfect shadowed outline against the closed blinds, I step to the side of the windows, the w
all at my back, and press a shaky hand over the bite mark. My heartbeat thumps in the four-raised points on my shoulder. Its significance is still a mystery, but I know enough to guess at some aspects of its meaning. Mira had a similar-looking scar on her shoulder, and she introduced herself as Josh’s mate, not his wife. Mate is the same word Ilan’s used for me.
“If he has, there might be hope for Ilan.” The optimism in Jarah’s voice is easy enough to pick up on. “And for me. I might still have a chance to become a hero.”
“You mean a hero like Ilan?”
“Yes.” Jarah laughs again. “When I grow up, I want to be just like him.”
“That’s a lofty goal, Jarah. I hope you reach it.”
“So do I, Ilan’s mate. So do I.”
Jarah ends the call, leaving me with an emptiness I can’t shake, as if I’m not quite…whole. As if I’m missing a piece of myself. I can’t help but think I am. I’m missing Ilan. He should be a part of me. He’s not. And if he dies, I’ll live on, alone.
Eighteen
Ilan
The two males flanking me move in sync, their rolling gaits resembling a choreographed dance. I slide my gaze from Vlad, officially known as the top dominant of the Winchester pack, to Xander, the established alpha of the Winchester pack as recognized by the Shifter Council, then shake my head. No matter their titles, they’re both alphas. The truth radiates from the cautious but calm wolves who share my body and soul. I’m in the presence of power, true power. Vlad and Xander are the ultimate warriors, and they have a curvy, sweet human female to thank for their godlike statuses.
“Eli protected your true mate.” I don’t direct my comment to either male. Gwen belongs to both. They also share a similar desire to save Elijah Winchester, Eli to his friends. Sure, Vlad’s and Xander’s motives might be different, but neither wants to lose the male who kept their true mate safe until they could claim her. It’s that motivation that’s drawn them from their mate’s arms to trek with me through the darkened snowy woods to the isolated cabin deep in the heart of Winchester pack lands.
“My younger brother would’ve died for Gwen if that’s what had been needed to keep other males from hurting her. Just as he almost died while freeing Corey from those who thought to kidnap her all those years ago.” Xander delivers his statement without taking his attention off the small cabin in the clearing ahead of us. “Those are not the actions of a feral male.”
The unprompted qualifier Xander tagged on draws me to a stop. I never asked their opinions of Eli’s mental state. The fact that Xander feels the need to try to influence me before I even lay eyes on Eli doesn’t bode well for the male.
Both alphas turn their heads to look at me. I glance between them and debate who to address. Such is the problem the alphas of the Winchester pack pose to visiting Royals. I can only hold one male’s gaze at a time. I settle on Xander. It is his brother locked away in the cabin ahead of us. “I’m no social worker. I’m not a therapist either. I can’t help Eli deal with the horrors he’s endured.”
Vlad cuts his partner, or whatever he considers the other male soul-bonded to Gwen, a sharp look, then meets my eyes. “Eli is in no condition to deal with the memories of his captivity, and you’re not the right male to counsel him.”
“Then why am I here?”
“I remember what you did for Dante, reining in the self-destructive immature male we weren’t sure was going to live long enough for his immortality to kick in. None of us could get through to him. Our attempts set him off, pushing Dante to take even more risks with his life.”
Dante hadn’t been self-destructive, nor did he intentionally risk his life. He sought his enemies with a vehemence I’ve never seen before. Anyone who even remotely threatened a woman or child died by his hands in a slow, torturous execution that almost made Dante as wickedly cruel as those he killed. It wasn’t just their deaths he wanted. He craved their screams, their pain, their pleas for mercy. Their suffering did it for him, simple as that. Had I not intervened in Dante’s life, he likely would’ve become an assassin’s mark. Maybe even mine.
“I was looking for a student, and Dante fit my needs, so I lured him into the darkness. There was nothing honorable about what I did. I turned Dante into an assassin.”
“I hear the Host has put out a call to its angels. They want all members to actively recruit new mentees.” Xander motions to the cabin. “Eli will make a dedicated student.”
Teaching someone to control their emotions is a lot different from honing the instincts that turns a man into a heartless hunter. “You want me to turn your baby brother into a killer?”
Xander doesn’t wither under my stare. Instead, coldness slithers into his expression, turning Xander into the walking predator who just so happens to have the power of three wolves at his fingertips. The beasts he was born with won’t fight to be in charge of this moment. They’ll funnel their instincts, their strength, their everything into the man.
I have the potential to reach the same level of power. All it’ll take is tying myself to Sara irrevocably, ensuring we soar or die together. With her, I can meet the threat coming for me head-on, but if I fail…
“The cowards who captured my brother already turned him into a killer. And I refuse to lose him to what they turned him into.” The energy rolling from Xander’s body lashes me, raising the hairs on my arms and stirring my wolves. I tighten the metaphysical leashes to the animals I house. The alpha of the Winchester pack is no threat to me. I hold the life of his brother in my hands.
Vlad steps forward. “We’re prepared to seek out other assassins, including your mentor.”
“But we trust you.” Xander fists his hands, cutting the outburst of power. “And if you can help Eli, I’ll be in your debt.”
The magnitude of Xander’s vow doesn’t encourage me to continue with this meeting. I’m not a shaman or some two-bit magician who can accomplish the impossible, but I’m not a fool either. With the knowledge Xander potentially has of my alpha, I have to pull off a miracle here tonight. My pack is counting on me. Sara’s counting on me.
I sweep my hand out in front of me in a move-along gesture. “Then let’s get this over with.”
Xander inclines his head, then strides forward, leaving Vlad and me to follow behind. Before Xander steps onto the porch, he pulls out his phone and taps the screen a few times. The porch light turns on.
“The interior walls are lined with an industrial electrification system.” Vlad supplies the reason for Xander’s actions.
“So Eli doesn’t escape.”
Vlad shakes his head. “So he doesn’t destroy the cabin. Again.”
Something hits Xander the moment he opens the door. He shoves hard against whatever’s in front of him. Eli is my guess. His snarls carry from the open door. Xander’s body blocks my view of the inside of the place, however. After a moment, he disappears inside. Vlad crosses the space between us and the open door and slips inside.
With my black wolf, the one with the keenest instincts where people are concerned, close to my psyche, I cross the threshold, then close the door behind me.
Complete darkness surrounds us for a moment before Vlad turns a table lamp on. The light is convenient but unnecessary. Eli’s growls and the pulse of his anger, a display to rival his older brother, alerts me to Eli’s location. Held to the wall with Xander’s clawed hand around his throat, he’s not getting to me unless Eli’s willing to attack his alpha. Eli’s balled fists hanging loosely at his sides tells me he has enough restraint to resist killing his brother.
That’s a good sign. It’s not one that would stop the label “feral” from being tacked on to him. But it’s something. I’ll take it.
Eli whips his head to Xander. “You brought death to me?”
Vlad steps next to them and grabs a fistful of Eli’s red hair, then jerks his head forward so he’s staring at me. “Do you remember what I told you about angels, Elijah?”
More snarls fall from Eli’s fang-filled
mouth. He pushes against the two males restraining him, bucking against their bodies and forcing Xander and Vlad to shove Eli harder against the wall. It’s his eyes that tell more than the aggressive posture Eli’s taking toward my presence.
Insanity looks back at me. My wolf supplies the assessment through a series of images and emotions it feeds me. Eli’s a lost cause. His wolves have had too much control over the man for too long. Their instincts don’t simply enhance the man’s fighting skills. They’ve transformed him into a honed killer, exactly as Dante described.
Death is the safest solution. Restrained the way he is, Eli’s execution will be quick. He won’t suffer. One twist and yank, and his head will separate from his body.
I accept the assessment my wolf supplies as truth, then push it aside and meet Eli’s crazed gaze. “Answer your pack mate, Killer.”
More snarls, more growls. Eli’s expression twists, rage bleeding through. Sharpened nails extend from his fingers. He curls them, piercing his own palms.
Vlad cracks Eli’s head off the wall, then leans close, nose to nose. “I asked you a question. What did I tell you about angels?”
“That when you look one in the eye…” Eli strains his head to the side and meets my gaze. “Death passes over you.”
“That day,” I add. “It means death won’t claim your life. That day, Killer. Tomorrow’s another day, though.”
“Then let me have a go with you.” The crazed glint to Eli’s green eyes fades. His voice lowers, hardens. “I’ll make sure you won’t come back tomorrow.”
Chuckling, I turn to the door. “There are other angels. If you want to make sure they don’t come for you, meet me outside. Alone.”
“I can’t go outside alone.” Eli’s voice trails after me.
I stop but don’t look back at him. “Why? Are you afraid of the dark?”
