Ilan

by Dana Archer

  “No.” The harsh word drops between us.

  With quick, practiced motions, I undress, leaving my clothes and boots in the middle of the clearing. Finally, I turn and face the open door. I can’t see where Eli’s being held against the wall from this spot, but sight isn’t the only way to see. I hear him, smell him, feel the fury simmering within him. I want to own it, to force this crazed male to kneel before me.

  Oh yeah, this is what I’ve missed: the power. Dante made me work for the right to own his future. Eli will too. I don’t doubt it. Once he does, however, he’ll make a deadly protégé.

  “Then hunt me, Killer, and I’ll show you what it’s like to own the night.” With that, I shift into my white wolf and lope into the woods. Once the darkness swallows me, I run, pushing my wolf’s body. I want to reach the creek before Eli catches me.

  The scent of water in the air directs my wolf’s feet, leading us to the small waterfall I heard in the distance during the walk to Eli’s cabin. The fall isn’t as high as I’d like, but the rocks at the bottom, causing the water to churn and twist, fits my needs.

  Once I reach the top of the waterfall, the soft crunch of a twig alerts me to the shifter closing in on me. I step into the icy water, the chill bleeding into my wolf’s paws. I stand there as numbness spreads up my legs, and a gasp shudders in my wolf’s chest, the cold bone-deep, then drop to my belly.

  Water flows over me, lifting my white fur as the current rushes to the edge of the creek bed. My body temperature drops. I don’t counter it. I wait for my heart to race. After a moment, the beat picks up, my heart attempting to escape my chest. My blood pressure spikes next, building pressure in my head and leaving my mind foggy and my muscles leaden. Then I crouch lower until only my nose is above the water and embrace the frigid conditions.

  As a shifter, there’s literally no need to feel the effects of the cold shock. My body responds to my will. As a Royal, neither hypothermia nor drowning will end my life. I’ll suffer, though. I already am. The icy pain is a part of me. I welcome it and the benefit of it that will save Eli’s life.

  Blood doesn’t flow as well in the cold.

  Eli’s black wolf approaches the creek. Lips raised on a silent snarl and saliva dripping from its mouth, the beast looks as deadly and vicious as the images my wolf painted to describe Eli’s mental state. The crazed look in the black wolf’s green eyes mimics what met me when I stepped into his cabin. Like this, Eli will fight with every primal instinct he possesses, the last beat of my heart on his wolf’s tongue its only goal.

  Oh yes. This male will kill me in a heartbeat. One screwup and I’ll lose, betraying my vow to Sara before I can even face the assassin coming for me. Good thing I have no intention of failing Sara or Eli. The black wolf’s hot breath fogging the air around him is almost as good as a guarantee.

  Years of training preps my body and wolves for the moment Eli steps into the water. I tug on the tether tying me to my gray wolf, the strongest of the three, and draw him close. My white wolf’s body fades, and my werewolf form emerges, gray hair covering my knuckles and hunched shoulders.

  Quicker than Eli can act, I dig clawed hands into the black wolf’s flank and tumble us over the edge of the waterfall.

  Water engulfs us. Eli’s muzzle opens, the cold shock gripping him and filling his black wolf’s lungs with icy water. I pull us deeper so reaching the water’s surface becomes an impossible goal. My leaden muscles move, responding to my commands exactly as I’ve trained them to do, and I curl my clawed hands into Eli. His wolf’s body jerks as I rip him open and tear his organs to shreds. Blood darkens the water. Eli’s blood.

  Finally, Eli reacts, the initial effects of the cold water fading. He raises his core temperature, keeping it higher than the water around us. Inwardly, I smile at the response most shifters would have when forced to endure these conditions. My new protégé has much to learn. This first lesson will be the hardest, though. Whether he survives it or not is up to him.

  Energy coils his muscles, and he lashes out at me. His fanged mouth connects with my shoulder while his rear legs push against my chest, trying to break my hold. Had my muscles not already been rigid, I might’ve released him. My curled fingers are locked, however. Only breaking them will free him.

  Eli shifts from wolf to man. He grabs my wrist and yanks one hand from where it’s dug into his side. I let him squeeze harder, my bones crunching.

  Then I move.

  Rolling our bodies, I slam my fist into Eli’s chest, breaking ribs, and dig deep until my claw-tipped fingers find my prize. The pulsating organ in my grasp beats strongly. I curl my fingers, my sharpened nails piercing Eli’s heart, then I meet Eli’s green eyes even as he claws at my body, trying to reach inside and seize my heart. I don’t stop his attempts to defeat me. I don’t take his life either. I hold it in the palm of my hand. And wait, giving Eli the choice.

  He exhales, the last of his air escaping in a few bubbles to the surface, and the clawed hands dug into my sides slip free. Within moments, the damage he’s inflicted into my body heals. A few moments later, so do his injuries, all except for the hole in his chest where my arm is impaled.

  His body’s temperature falls, and his racing heart slows. It doesn’t stop. The beat turns rhythmic, matching mine in a slow, echoing pulse I feel in my veins.

  I smile, a few air bubbles escaping my mouth, and wrap my free arm under his body, locking it to mine, then kick, forcing our bodies to the surface.

  Eli’s head lolls back once we break the top, firm kicks from my legs keeping us there. His aware gaze meets mine, but he makes no attempt to purge the water from his lungs or break free of my death grip. He stares at me, not in anger or in defeat. He waits on me.

  “Well, Killer?” I lean closer, digging my claws a little deeper into Eli’s heart, causing it to stutter. “Do you want to own the night or die a failure?”

  Eli turns his head, water trickling out of his mouth. I tighten my arm around his chest, compressing his lungs. More water pours from his nose and mouth. I ease my hold on his heart as coughing shakes his body, but I don’t pull my hand free. Eli hasn’t given his answer yet.

  He breathes harshly for a moment before turning his head to look into my eyes. “I can’t fail her.”

  The words send trepidation into me. “A woman?”

  “Mine.” Eli growls the word. “She’s mine, even if she doesn’t want to be.”

  “Then you can prove it to her after you own the night. Give me your blood vow, and I will teach you to be one with the dark.”

  “You’re the one who turned Dante into an angel.”

  “And I’ll turn you into one. A true killer, not the beast the cage fights turned you into. One vow, Elijah Winchester. That’s all I need.” And once I have his blood vow, his life is mine until I release him as I did with Dante when I sent him out on his own. The ancient vow, one of the few reminders of our shamanic origins, will compel Eli to follow my commands or suffer excruciating pain.

  Eli exhales, then nods. “My blood is yours. My life is yours. When you call, I will kneel, my will yours to command.”

  Power flows between us, completing the blood vow. I yank my hand from his chest and drag him to the creek’s edge. Once there, I crouch over my new protégé. “I will call on you in a few days with your next lesson. In the meantime, I have some stuff to deal with.”

  “What kind of stuff?”

  I wipe my bloody fingers over his cheek. It’s Eli’s blood, but it’s fitting. He is his own enemy. “Death is coming for me.”

  “An assassin is coming for you?” Eli’s brows pinch.

  “Yes, but I won’t fail my woman. Gave her my vow.” I stand just as Xander breaks the tree line. “And now I need to call in another vow.”

  Xander glances from Eli to me. “Thank you for—”

  “What does the Hunter know of my alpha?”

  “Nothing, but if you’re lucky, Gabriel will talk to you.”

  I close the dist
ance between us and step into Xander’s personal space. “What are you talking about?”

  “Their souls are tied together. Not exactly a soul bonding. More like the bond alphas share with their pack’s spirit.”

  “Gabriel’s not dead.” I would’ve felt his death.

  “No, no, he’s not, but he needs to die. Or the Hunter does. They both have one foot in the grave now.”

  I curl my hand around Xander’s throat. “No games, Alpha. Tell me what’s going on.”

  “I’ll take you to the Hunter, then you can see for yourself.”

  Nineteen

  Ilan

  Another cabin, another pair of alpha males flanking me. This time, I’m on the Jager pack lands, dozens of miles from where I started this night, and the dual alphas walking beside me are single shifters instead of Royals. The distinctions mean little. I’m still in the presence of power. Their true mate didn’t remain at their home, however. The petite alpha female of the Jager pack walks ahead of us.

  Hannah Jager quickens her strides to reach the cabin while Ethan, the official alpha of the Jager pack holds out an arm in front of me. Noah, the top dominant, continues forward, not even pausing in his stride to see why we’ve stopped.

  Once both Noah and Hannah slip into the unlocked cabin, Ethan steps in front of me. Aggression doesn’t show in his demeanor. A quiet sort of calm radiates from him. No doubt the tall, blond alpha male commands the human courtroom where he acts as a lawyer with the same cool confidence in which he leads his pack. It’s this elegant poise that stops me from pushing him out of my way and knocking down the door to the cabin. The insistence of my wolves to look upon the male inside is overwhelming. Ethan has something to say to me, though. Time to find out what.

  “You have something to say?”

  “I forbid Xander from telling you about Owen. Selfish of me?” Ethan raises a blond brow. “Absolutely. He’s my brother, by love if not blood, and his suffering is my fault. I’m just glad to finally have him back where he belongs.”

  The urge to curse at this male for his manipulation is powerful. He might’ve sought to protect his brother, but my pack’s spirit is at risk. Gabriel might be strong, but I don’t know what’s happened to him over the years he’s been held captive. Arguing with Ethan will accomplish nothing, however. Right or wrong, this knowledge has been kept from me. Not for much longer, though.

  “What happened to Owen?” The details Xander offered up didn’t answer my questions.

  “He was captured and entered into an experimental program at an illegal medical facility. While there, he was”—Ethan glances over his shoulder—“altered.”

  “Altered how?” The stories of the two young shifter females living in this area offer a small peek at the atrocious “experiments” done on shifters all in an attempt to steal the gifts of the heavens the Royals possess—immortality and power. The child Molly is the only known success. Born as a mortal single shifter, she’s now immortal and a pride leader. Her sister, Megan, however, is another story. Bonded to a single shifter wolf spirit, her life and soul hang in the balance.

  “Owen knows they gave him different concoctions of drugs, all in an attempt to make him stronger. They wanted to make him into a powerful fighter, a hunter of unprecedented proportions.”

  Not an uncommon goal. Cage fighting is popular among certain circles of shifters and humans. “How is my alpha involved?”

  “I’m not exactly sure Gabriel Kane is involved.” Ethan sighs, and his gaze lowers to the snow-covered ground between us. “At least willingly.”

  Only a half inch or so covers the grass, allowing the blades to poke through. He sweeps his foot across the snow, clearing a small area, then crouches and lays his hand over the ground as if supporting himself. The move strikes me as odd. It also leaves me unsettled.

  Despite being a single shifter, Ethan is not inferior to me. As an alpha, as a dominant, he’s my equal. The connection all shifters share with nature is an integral one, however. Many will seek comfort from our tie to the earth by walking bare foot or…touching the soil.

  “Then why is my alpha’s name attached to the Hunter’s file?”

  Ethan raises his gaze, not his head, nor does he stand. “Because Xander confirmed the aura surrounding him is that of the Kane pack.”

  Fist curled so I don’t grab Ethan, I hunker down so we’re eye to eye. “My brother…my alpha…is bonded to Owen. Is that what you’re telling me?”

  “Yes, though I couldn’t say what type of bond they share. Owen doesn’t sense anything connected to his soul. Besides his wolf, that is.” Ethan sighs. “But the changes to Owen, both physically and metaphysically, tell a different story. He’s gained muscle mass and height since maturing.”

  The statement adds to the agitation settling in my muscles. Shifters don’t grow once they reach maturity. The body you have is it. “What else?”

  “He dreams of the future, other people’s future. Mine and Xander’s, for instance. Snippets of things, you understand. He doesn’t know everything, nor is he sure half the time if what he’s dreaming about is a potential outcome or simply a dream.” Ethan leans closer and lowers his voice. “And sometimes a man will take over his body, controlling it and speaking through Owen.”

  The stories of Molly’s and Megan’s situations return. Both little girls talked about the men living inside them. In Molly’s case, the spirit of the pride leader she was bonded with spoke through her. You knew it was him because her eyes and her voice changed. In Megan’s predicament, she carries on conversations with the alpha wolf spirit she was born with, back-and-forth exchanges that made those around her think she was talking to an imaginary friend. There’s nothing make-believe about what was done to them, though.

  “Owen’s eyes turn black.”

  “And his voice changes, according to Hannah. Gabriel saved her life by controlling Owen’s body.”

  The types of bonds formed by those who want to steal the Royals’ immortality aren’t natural. Our primal side would want to push out the intruder who doesn’t belong in our soul. Doing so might destroy both halves of the bond, their souls shattering.

  “Take me to see the Hunter, then. I want to see for myself whether he shares some sort of bond with my alpha.” I just don’t know what I’ll do about it because at the moment I can only come up with one solution, the outcome Xander suggested.

  Either Gabriel or the Hunter needs to die.

  Twenty

  Sara

  The ice slithering into me settles in my heart. I press my balled fist there. The pressure doesn’t help. The ache remains from the phone call with Jarah earlier. I haven’t been able to shake the dark mood.

  Rolling my shoulders, I place the cell on the charger after checking for the umpteenth time for a response to the text I sent Ilan, then make my way to the living room. Soren’s silence is surprising. He’s been eating every two to three hours. It’s been over four now.

  The splash of light from the kitchen brightens a section of the wall and part of the couch, the same spot where Ilan had knelt this morning, changing Soren’s diaper. I smile, the memory warming me and chasing away the chill Jarah’s call left with me, then make my way to the bassinet.

  Soren’s widened gaze meets mine. His stiffened body sends my heart racing. I lay my hand over his chest, fears I don’t want to give life to choking me with possibilities. He grabs my finger and squeezes tightly, eradicating the worries choking me. Other concerns grip me.

  This tiny baby has instincts I’ll never possess.

  With my heart pounding, I kiss his forehead, then ease my finger from his tight grasp and walk into the kitchen. A quick peek outside doesn’t show any obvious danger. I also don’t see Ezra. Of course, he might be on the patio below the porch.

  Hands trembling, I push the window up and call out. “Ezra? Can you come back inside? I need to ask you something.”

  Silence answers me. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t hear me. He might be making his way
inside. I can’t take the chance. Soren is relying on me to soothe him and to protect him.

  I shut the window and lock it, then step backward until my legs meet the kitchen table. With my chest heaving on harsh breaths, I snatch the gun Ilan left lying there before he went out with Dante. The instructions Ilan gave play out in my head.

  Throw the safety. Exhale. Aim for the spot between my enemy’s eyes. Pull the trigger.

  And become a murderer.

  I shake off the last thought and take up a spot in front of Soren’s bassinet. With a flick of my finger, I release the safety and hold the gun loosely in front of me. Minutes pass. No sign of Ezra or danger, but it’s close. It has to be. Ezra would’ve come inside otherwise. He hasn’t yelled upstairs or appeared in any of his big cat forms.

  With the gun aimed at the floor, I glance over my shoulder. Soren is watching me. Silently. The tenseness in his body hasn’t eased.

  Using my free hand, I rub his arm, hoping to comfort him somehow as regret slithers into my muscles. My cell phone is still on the charger in my bedroom. I should’ve grabbed it when I last looked for a reply to my text. The ninety-six percent charge was plenty.

  Soren looks from me to the archway as if he shares my same thought. The move strikes me as deliberate. It can’t be. This baby is days old. There’s no way he can be communicating with me.

  But…but Soren is descended from a goddess, just like Ilan is. They also have better senses than I do. Their animals enhance their abilities, which is why I suggested Ezra should allow his to guide his human form. Soren is in a similar predicament. He can’t walk or talk. He can hear, though.

  My narrow home has the kitchen facing the alley, this living room, then my bedroom and bathroom facing the front street. The archway between this room and the kitchen allows access to the hallway to my bedroom or the stairs to the first floor where Ezra left the door unlocked.