by Dana Archer
Closing my eyes, I listen for the sound of someone walking down my creaky hallway or the squeak from opening the stairwell door. Nothing. All I hear is my heartbeat.
The trembling starts in my arms as fear chokes me. I take a steadying breath and drop to a crouch in front of Soren’s bassinet, then raise my arms, pointing the gun at the archway, and wait. I’ll either look the fool or be ready for the approaching threat.
The sound of groaning wood precedes the thump of the stairwell door hitting the ground. A lion steps into my line of sight. Its dark, shaggy mane could be Ezra’s. Or it could belong to the lion who roared the night I walked into a murder scene. Or it might be any number of shifters, maybe Dante or Uri.
The indecision builds. My hands shake. Tears well, the frustration choking me.
The lion walks into the living room. It doesn’t bare its teeth. Doesn’t snarl. Doesn’t act remotely threatening. It turns its big shaggy head from the bassinet to me. Then steps forward.
Soren lets out a piercing scream unlike anything I’ve ever heard.
Hoping the days-old baby senses more than I do, I exhale, aim, and fire.
Red explodes from the lion’s neck. It staggers back for a moment, then snarls. It doesn’t fall over. Doesn’t die. I missed my mark, the spot between its eyes.
I pull the trigger again. The gun clicks. No bullet fires. The lion charges. I scream, my terror adding to Soren’s cries.
The lion jerks back a second before it reaches me, its rough hair brushing my legs. Ezra, in his human form, has clawed hands dug into the lion’s hindquarters. The lion turns, sinking its fangs into Ezra’s shoulder.
Ezra punches the lion’s head, cracking it to the side, then digs clawed hands into its flank and pulls himself closer, his legs dragging uselessly behind him.
The dart lodged into his lower back, right above the waistband of his sweats, gives me the clue as to why. He’s been drugged. Yet he’s still fighting.
Ezra bares his own set of fangs at the lion, but only half of Ezra’s mouth opens. The other side is droopy. The lion topples Ezra, knocking him to his back, and stands over him.
“No!” I aim the gun at the lion’s head and fire. Nothing happens. My tears spill over. We’re going to fail. We can’t.
I turn the gun around and crack the butt off the lion’s snout as it lowers to Ezra’s throat. The lion whips its head to me. It doesn’t get the chance to take a bite out of me, though. Ezra grunts. The lion’s body jerks. A spray of hot liquid coats my legs, then the lion who tried to hurt us falls to the side, a gaping hole in its neck.
Choking on bile, I squeeze my eyes closed against the sight, but a solid hand on my leg yanks my attention to Ezra.
“He dr…drugged me.” Ezra’s voice is slurred, barely audible. “Call…help.”
His hand slides off my leg and flops into the spilled blood drenching my carpet. A small whimper escapes my throat. I ignore the sound of my weakness, stand, and glance into the bassinet. Soren’s gaze meets mine. Terror no longer leaves him tense. He’s relaxed, as if a deadly fight didn’t just play out feet from him.
“You’re safe, Soren.” I touch his cheek, leaving a streak of blood there, then glance from my hand to the front of my body. I’m covered in blood.
Gagging, I bury my face into my shoulder and swallow the sour liquid filling my mouth. More signs of weakness. Soren and Ezra are counting on me to act, not break down.
I grab a burp cloth and wipe the blood from Soren’s cheek, then run to my bedroom and snatch my cell from the charger. My call to Ilan is dropped to voicemail. I don’t have anyone else’s number except for Josh…and Shifter Affairs. Ilan added the contact in my phone, labeling it Specialized Affairs, and told me how he was now working for a woman there.
Selecting the number, I dial. The moment the call connects, I ask, “May I speak to Ella Montgomery, please. It’s an emergency.”
Twenty-One
Ilan
The aura surrounding the wild-looking man sitting at the kitchen table with Hannah and Noah matches mine. There’s no denying that. This male isn’t my pack mate, though. He doesn’t smell like a Kane. Doesn’t look like one either. Owen’s eyes are hazel, not orange. His nose is wider, his jaw is blunter, and his disheveled hair is wavier. He’s also not a Royal.
My wolves sense only one wolf spirit within Owen’s body, and they’ll never accept it as pack.
Owen pushes his chair out, the wooden legs scraping on the hardwood floor, and stands next to the table with his stance widened and arms held loosely at his sides. “Tell me when you want me to turn around so you can check out my butt too. Just be warned, I’m not into guys.”
Instead of answering, I focus on the scars marring Owen’s face. They’re easy to see through the growth of beard. Claws wouldn’t have caused them. Maybe the sting of a whip, hard to tell, but even if he’d gotten injured as a youth, the wounds would’ve partially healed. These stand out starkly on his face, adding to the wild appearance he carries. “Did they use salt or a witch’s salve on your face?”
Owen touches his face where a wide white scar cuts through his beard, then drops his balled hand. “Why are you here? They wouldn’t tell me. Are you another one of those Shifter Affair shrinks sent to assess my mental state?”
“Why would anyone need to assess your mental state?” Just how far up in the Shifter Affairs hierarchy did knowledge of Owen go? And why haven’t I been told?
“To determine if I’m feral.”
“You’re not feral. One look at you and I could’ve told them that.” My wolves would’ve shown me the easiest way to end his life the way they did with Eli.
Owen yanks up the leg of his pants, exposing a white band around his ankle. “They said the same, but I still gotta wear this. They don’t want me running off on them.”
“Where would you go?”
“Back to where I was kept. I’ve got unfinished business there.”
I slide my gaze from where Hannah and Noah sit silently at the table to Ethan, who’s standing near the door in the back of the room. “I’d like to speak to Owen alone.”
“I don’t think—”
“I’d like to speak to Owen alone.” I cut Ethan off.
Ethan holds my gaze for a long minute before nodding. As silently as they entered, the leaders of the Jager pack leave. Once the door clicks closed, I meet Owen’s gaze. “What kind of business?”
Owen smirks. “The unfinished kind.”
Any other time, the smartass answer would amuse me. Not today. “Where were you kept?”
He shrugs. “Don’t know exactly.”
“Then how do you expect to find your way back there?”
Owen thumps his balled fist against his chest. “Instincts. All shifters have them. I just have to follow mine.”
Or maybe the pull to Gabriel will lead him back. “If I get you out of here, will you lead me back there?”
Eyes narrowed, Owen studies me with open speculation. “Why?”
I take the stance he did minutes ago. “Do you recognize me, or should I turn around so you can check out my butt?”
A rough laugh shakes Owen’s chest. “I’ll take a hard pass.”
“You don’t recognize me, do you?”
Owen raises a brow. “Should I?”
“How about your wolf? Does it recognize me?”
“No. Should it?”
The debate plays out in my head. I didn’t learn from Ethan how much Owen knows about his bond with my alpha. “Then tell me about your dreams. Have any of me?”
Owen gives a slow shake of his head, his gaze never leaving my face. “You ask a lot of questions but don’t give any answers. I don’t even know your name.”
“Ilan.” I step forward. “Now, your dreams. Have any of me?”
“No.”
“A baby with my eyes? A human female, brown hair, gray eyes?”
“No and no.”
“How about a male who looks like me?” I take another st
ep forward. “Orange eyes, dark blond hair, lean build.” Another step brings me within Owen’s arm reach. “Goes by the name Gabriel Kane?”
“No.”
A growl crawls up my throat. “Don’t lie to me.”
Owen sneers at me. “Taste my scent, Royal. I’m not lying.”
I don’t need to. He’s not lying. My wolves sense that, but this visit is proving worthless. “Gabriel Kane is my alpha. He’s been missing for over three hundred years.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, but I know nothing about him.”
I close the distance between us so a deep breath would press our chests together and hold Owen’s gaze, Dominant to Dominant. “Then tell me what you know about the man who can control your body.”
A predatory stillness settles over Owen. He wets his lower lip while his hazel eyes turn cold. “I know he needs to die. If he doesn’t, I will. As it is, I feel my soul tearing. Once it does, feral won’t be a strong enough word to describe me.”
Twenty-Two
Sara
It’s not the first time I’ve drunk coffee at close to midnight. It won’t be the last either, but hopefully, I’ll never again have to do so while sitting in the basement cafeteria of Riley’s Sanctuary, a veterinary-turned-shifter hospital.
Eyes closed, I raise the steaming white mug and drag in a deep breath. The warmth of the cup between my hands and the hearty smell of Columbia’s finest beans equates with happiness in my mind. I need that now. It’s just as stressful playing the waiting game in a shifter hospital as it is in a human hospital. Even more so. An immortal shifter should not still be knocked out hours after being drugged, according to Ella.
Small sips of the hot liquid warms my throat, and the rich scent I love fills my lungs, but the calming effect my comfort drink usually brings doesn’t settle over me. Anxiety and annoyance still grip me. The first for Ezra, the second for Ilan. At least I know Soren is safe and well at Josh and Mira’s house. I’m thankful for that. Trying to muster a smile and a happy voice for the little baby I’ve become responsible for would be close to impossible now.
I press the mug to my bowed head, letting the warmth seep into my forehead where a headache is building, and wrangle my emotions. The anxiety is wasted on Ezra. I know that. He’s immortal. The fact he hasn’t woken and isn’t responding to physical stimuli probably means they used some new drug on him, or maybe a super heavy-duty dose. Once it’s out of his system, he’ll be fine. At least that’s what I’m telling myself. Unless I hear otherwise, that’s what I’m believing too.
My annoyance for Ilan, however, won’t be so easily countered with a little rationalization. It’ll have to wait until I see my lover again. Ilan’s off following leads on his missing alpha. That’s what he told me before he left this morning. He even said he might be out very late. I’m not worried about him, per se. Maybe I should be considering an assassin is coming for him. I’m not, though. He promised me he wouldn’t fail. I believe him.
What I’m maddened over is the silent treatment I’ve gotten from him today. As the one woman he’s waited thousands of years to find, I deserve a response to my texts. He’s read them. Well, most of them. The latter ones about the dead lion in my living room show “unread” on my phone.
“Do you mind if I join you?”
I jerk back at the unfamiliar male voice, expecting to see a different doctor from the very pregnant one who greeted me at the door. Instead of a staff member with an update on Ezra, a powerfully built, black-haired man in a biker’s outfit stands next to my table. No way is this guy a doctor, not dressed like that. Must be a visitor like me.
With a raised brow, I glance pointedly at the other empty tables surrounding us, expecting him to take the hint. After a moment when it’s obvious he’s not going to leave, I grab my phone, coffee, and the magazine I was trying to read. “If you’d like to sit here, I can move. One table is as good as the next.”
“No, no, don’t move on my account.” He lays a hand on my shoulder, right over Ilan’s bite mark, and pushes me gently back into my seat. “I was just hoping for a little company, even if it’s from a stranger, but I can sit by myself. I have my phone and haven’t checked social media in a couple of minutes. Maybe there’s a new post or something.”
Guilt settles over me. I recognize loneliness. I see it often in the bar. I just don’t want to deal with it tonight. That’s selfish of me. Ezra’s going to be fine, and Ilan will eventually see my texts. When he does, he’ll come right out here. I don’t doubt that. I’m his true mate.
This man, though? If he’s willing to sit with a stranger for company…
I give the cafeteria another glance, then focus on the camera above the door. Ella told me the security feeds are monitored twenty-four seven, and there was no reason why I wouldn’t be safe going to get a coffee. Besides, the lion shifter after me is dead, thanks to Ezra.
“Sure, sit for a while.” I motion to the seat opposite me. “But I can’t promise I’ll be very good company.”
“You’re here for a friend too?”
“Yes.”
The man sits and drops his elbows on the table. “You do realize this isn’t a normal hospital, don’t you?”
“You’re right.” I plaster a smile on my face. “Animals are tended to upstairs. This level is the cafeteria with free food and drinks for everyone else.”
“Where shifters can wait while their pride or pack mates are patched up.”
I wet my lips and glance at the table. I made one mistake believing strangers who called themselves Ilan’s friends. Instead, they’d meant to deliver Soren. No matter how much I want to trust in the goodness of people, Ilan’s world isn’t one I’m used to. I’ll learn the rules. I have no choice. I’m a part of it, from now until the world ends and beyond.
Raising my gaze to the stranger with his plain brown eyes, I look for some sign he’s a shifter. Since he mentioned them, I’d assume he was one, or at least knows of them. “And you are?”
“Where are my manners?” The man laughs and holds out a hand. “The name’s Nolan Yuran, top dominant of the Yuran pride.”
Not Uri’s pride, then. “Are you from the area? The name’s not one I recognize.”
“No, Canada, actually, but I have several members living in Ohio.”
“Are you taking the scenic route, then? Because West Virginia is not exactly close to either of those places.”
Nolan leans back, slouching in his seat, and links his hands over his chest. “You’ve caught me, little human, and you’re very much correct. I shouldn’t be here, but some pride business has necessitated my presence. I’m glad I did make this trip, however.”
“Why’s that?”
“I was able to save a pride mate’s life.” Nolan motions to the door. “Had I not made this side trip to your lovely state, my dear, beloved older cousin might’ve died.”
I lean forward. “What happened?”
Nolan shrugs as if whatever occurred was no big deal. “Daegan was attacked. Not sure by who, but they did a sloppy job if they meant to actually end his ancient life.”
“Oh my.” I press my hand to my mouth. Just because I don’t know Daegan doesn’t make me ache any less for him. I hate to see people suffer. Except for that lion who tried to attack me and Soren. Him? Well…I wouldn’t have minded if he hurt some before he died. Nope, I wouldn’t have minded that one little bit. “Is your cousin going to be okay?”
“Yes.” Nolan rubs at his throat. “Daegan is old and powerful. He’ll heal, but it’ll be painful. Might take a good day or two until he’s conscious and can talk too.”
I glance from where Nolan’s still massaging his neck to his eyes. “Did he hurt his neck?”
A solemn expression passes over Nolan’s face. He drops his hand. “Daegan almost lost his head. A few millimeters of his spine held it from being severed completely. I lined it back up. It’ll mend.” Nolan’s features pinch in a grimace as my stomach churns. “It’s too bad I couldn’t do th
e same for his hands and feet. Those’ll have to regrow. Same with his skin.”
With a hand wrapped tight around my roiling belly, I cover my mouth. Bile burns my throat, but I swallow it down. “His…skin?”
“Yes.” Nolan sighs. Chin dipped, he shakes his head. “He was skinned. Every inch of him. Face, groin, fingers, even his eyelids.”
“Oh God.” I push from my seat and focus on the bathroom door. “Excuse—”
Awareness skips down my spine, easing the heaving in my gut. I glance to the archway opening to the hall. Ilan’s standing there wearing a fresh pair of jeans and a different solid-colored shirt, a V-neck this time. His gaze meets mine for the briefest of moments, then he slides his focused stare to the man sitting at my table. No emotion shows on Ilan’s face. Not for me, or this stranger.
“Nolan Yuran.” Ilan addresses the man. Obviously, he’s not a stranger to him.
The other man stands and dips his head. “Ilan Kane. I am honored to meet your eyes and know I will live to see tomorrow.”
“Thanks to you, my blood brother will live to see another sunrise also.”
“I’d do anything for a pride member, especially for such a valuable member of the Host.”
Nolan’s mocking tone draws my gaze to him, but his expression doesn’t give anything away. He glances at me as if he feels my attention on him and grins. “Thank you for your company, little human, but I should check in on Daegan’s condition before I head out.”
I incline my head but don’t respond. I’m not so sure I like this man who used such a tone about a man—his supposedly “beloved” cousin—who’s been tortured.
Ilan steps into the hallway while Nolan gets on the modified freight elevator, large enough for a gurney and equipment, before turning to me. He opens his arms. “Sara. I felt your tension and—”
“Ilan.” I fling myself into his arms, squeezing him tight. “It feels so good to be in your arms.”
Ilan grabs my face and kisses me hard, brutally, then eases back to stare into my eyes. “Soren?”
