Ilan

by Dana Archer

  Taking another sip of coffee, I recall the conversation we shared in this room not long ago. “You implied it, though. You said the scent of Daegan’s blood was overwhelming.”

  “True, I did.” Nolan sits across from me, his back to the door. “But I also said I recognized the other shifter as a bear.”

  “A very old bear, if I remember correctly.”

  “You do remember correctly.” Nolan offers up a warm smile. “And my deflection stemmed from the fact that I didn’t want to name him, not because I meant to be dishonest. People don’t mess with men like that, Sara. Not unless they want to meet death sooner than fate planned it for them, and I do not.”

  “Will you tell me who it was if I asked?”

  “Jarah.” Nolan says the name with no reservation, despite his claim he didn’t want to mess with him. Maybe because it’s only me here, not Ilan too.

  I swallow past the dryness in my throat. I don’t like the seeds of doubt sprouting in my mind, but I can’t stop them. The compulsion to protect my family is too intense. “Ilan’s Jarah? As in the eldest member of the Host?”

  Nolan nods, then blows on his coffee before sipping it.

  I stare at Nolan while uncertainty slithers through me. Everyone keeps telling me how well respected Jarah is among his kind. I’ve also seen how Jarah acted with Ilan. Plus, there’s no way Jarah could’ve faked his concern for Daegan. Then again, he is an ancient. Over his long life, he’s probably learned how to cover up his true emotions. Even Ilan could do this. He hid his feelings for me for years, letting me think he didn’t want me.

  Using two hands, I hold my mug in front of my face and let the doubt work through me. Then I let it go. “Surely as a Shifter Affairs agent, you’d report Jarah’s presence at the tattoo shop if you thought he was involved in Daegan’s attack. So I can only assume you don’t think he was involved.”

  Nolan turns his attention to his coffee, taking several sips until only enough liquid to coat the bottom of the mug remains. “My jurisdiction is limited to Canada. I’m under no obligation to act as a Shifter Affairs agent in West Virginia. Pride business brought me here, not a case. Once I finish that business, I’ll be returning to Canada. I have obligations there that don’t allow me to remain in the States, which is what would happen if I involved myself in an active investigation.”

  Now it’s my turn to hesitate in responding. I follow Nolan’s tactic and slowly drink my coffee while I debate which piece of information to follow, pressing for his opinion on Jarah’s involvement or this pride business he’s hinted at. “Isn’t your business already completed? You mentioned wanting to make sure Ilan’s nephew was delivered safely to him. I can assure you he’s alive and well.”

  Nolan stands and retrieves the half pot of coffee. He pours more into his mug, then raises the pot in a silent question to me.

  “Yes, please.” I rarely turn down coffee, especially when I need the comfort it offers. Like now.

  After topping off my mug, he sets the empty pot next to us and sits. “Daegan has been spending a lot of time with the witches of late. I need his help, and he needs mine.”

  “With what?” I leave the question open-ended.

  “I have reason to believe my family is in one of the facilities focused on stealing a Royal’s immortality. In those experiments, witches are usually involved. I need one to…” Nolan stares at the dark brown coffee in his cup.

  “You need a witch to…” I press for more.

  “To give me options. I don’t like the ones I’m facing. There has to be another way.”

  “To free your family?”

  “Yes.” Nolan takes a drink.

  “And what help does Daegan need from you?”

  “To save him from our pride leader’s wrath.”

  Nolan’s serious tone catches my breath. I swallow against the tightness in my throat. “Why?”

  “Our pride leader ordered Daegan to deliver the baby, then leave without making contact with Ilan.”

  “Why?”

  “My alpha didn’t want Ilan to trace the baby back to the Yuran pride.”

  “Why?” I feel like a parrot repeating myself, but I can’t help it. I need these details, and Nolan’s dangling them just out of reach.

  “I can’t answer that without risking my alpha’s wrath too.”

  “And that would entail?” Torture maybe?

  “Banishment from the pride.”

  Again I’m left wondering what I should know about the shifter world and what I shouldn’t. In this case, I have no idea what it would mean to sever Daegan’s connection, but Nolan’s grim tone hints at the consequences being grave. “And that’s bad, right?”

  “Yes.” Nolan shakes his head. “I’d lose my connection to the pride. Doing so would cut me off from my sons.”

  “I don’t understand.” Maybe I should, but I don’t want to fake this. I want the truth.

  “An alpha is connected to every member of the pride, no matter where they’re located. Mine knows my sons are alive. Sometimes he even gets flashes of images through their eyes. He tells me every time he connects with my boys. That’s how I know they’re at one of these facilities. I can’t lose that tie to them. Knowing they’re alive keeps me going, keeps me fighting.” Nolan leans over the table. “I won’t ever give up on finding my mate or my boys, Sara.”

  “Nor will I ever stop fighting for my family.” I glance at where my fingers are wrapped around my coffee mug to resist asking him how far he’d go to get his family back. It’s not necessary. I already know the answer. I saw it in his eyes the last time I walked away from him. He’d do anything. Just as Ilan would do anything to protect his family. “And as you can imagine, your comments about sensing Jarah at the tattoo place where Daegan was attacked is concerning to me. Why do you think he was there?”

  “I don’t have the answers you seek. I only have rumors, and I doubt they’d comfort you.”

  Rumors that may or may not have any basis in truth. There’s danger in entertaining rumors. I’ve seen that many times at the bar. Couples break up over rumors that prove to be false. Reputations can be ruined. Jobs lost. But…

  “Without knowing the possibilities, I’m at a disadvantage. My family’s at a disadvantage. I’d rather rumors than nothing.” Then I can look for the truth in them. If there is any to be found.

  “You know of the agreement reached between the shifters and the humans?” Nolan looks at me expectantly until I nod, then he lowers his voice as if conveying a secret. “The Host didn’t know about it until they were forced to abide by it.”

  “They weren’t happy about it, were they?”

  “They were furious. The Host, you see, was a judgment panel of three males before then. For several millennia, for longer than you can even conceive, every shifter or human who met their death at an assassin’s hand was marked by the panel of three.”

  “Jarah, Connal, and Teague.”

  Nolan inclines his head. “Three firstborn alphas who’d never started a family.”

  “There are many like them.” At least according to Jarah.

  “I don’t know if many is the right term, but there are a decent number of these ancients still walking the earth. They’re all very…” Nolan’s features pinch as if trying to find the right word. “Primal. More animal than human, you understand? Murder, torture, manipulation… These things mean little to them other than being means to exploit in order to succeed.”

  “And what do they want to succeed at?” After living as long as they have, I can’t imagine there’s much they can’t do.

  “Become godlike.” Nolan sneers. “The ultimate warriors for their goddesses. They say that’s what the goddesses originally wanted from the Royals, to have living, breathing weapons they could control in this realm. They never actually wanted them to breed and start families. Those who did were weak…according to the firstborns, anyway.”

  Godlike. Ilan’s used that term for his bond to me. I can make him godlike. �
��To claim their true mates, you mean?”

  Nolan’s nod answers me. “None of the alphas who went on to start families found their true mates. They simply picked a human to breed with. The firstborns have that ability, you see. A decree from the heavens. Whether singles or Royals, it doesn’t matter. The firstborns can pick any human, turn them into a shifter, and breed with them. None of their descendants have that ability, though. We must find a shifter mate or be content with a childless bond to a human.”

  “A childless bond?” My voice sounds small, weak. Out of all the things Nolan has told me, this one point hurts the most.

  “Ilan didn’t happen to mention that before he mated you, huh?” Nolan shakes his head. “That’s a pity, but not exactly surprising. If you’re brave enough to wade through his mind, seek out the knowledge, though I don’t advise delving into his thoughts. They’d break you. The things a man like Ilan has done in his life aren’t meant for walking angels like you to see.”

  Ilan’s said the same thing. I swallow hard. “We have an agreement.”

  Nolan nods as if that explains everything. “For your own sanity, Sara, stick to it. Just know that there might be a way around your and Ilan’s infertility. Talk to Riley Kagan. She’s human, and she’s carrying her shifter mate’s babies.”

  I push aside the worry over what might or might not be possible and focus on our conversation. “And how does all this apply to Jarah and his anger over the agreement with the humans?”

  “Humans frown upon murder and torture. Probably the kind of manipulation Jarah employs too. Coercing others through threats directed at their loved ones is not exactly politically correct behavior either, but those are the types of things Jarah, Connal, and Teague used throughout the ages to…”

  Again Nolan frowns. I can almost see him picking and dismissing phrases to convey what he’s trying to say. I don’t offer any suggestions. I wait with bated breath. I’m not going to like what Nolan suggests Jarah’s done. I know it. Still, I need to hear it. I can’t ask Ilan about these things without the knowledge.

  Finally, Nolan nods as if pleased with what he came up with. “To ensure shamans will never again walk this earth.”

  “And because the humans have curtailed my methods, witches are being forced to practice shamanic magic they know little about.” Jarah’s harsh voice booms in the room.

  Both Nolan and I jump, proving I’m not the only one taken by surprise. Funny that Nolan didn’t sense Jarah this time.

  Jarah steps into the room. Alone. Ilan isn’t with him. Neither is Dante. The presence of the ancient male by himself speeds my pulse and sends a tremor through my limbs.

  Nolan stands, putting himself between Jarah and me. “You’re assuming your inability to kill off those witches who show any ability is the cause of our problems?”

  “I do not assume.” Jarah steps farther into the room, causing the hairs on my arms to stand on end. “I know it is the cause. The human government snatched up my marks before I could eliminate them, all under the guise of trying to protect the innocent. Well, those innocent witches have been allowed to reproduce, and it’s their offspring who are being forced to form unnatural bonds, dabble in things they don’t understand, and risk their eternal souls! They do not understand how powerful the wrath of the heavens can be. They’ll learn, though. They’ll learn, but by then, the damage will be done.”

  Pressure builds in my chest with each word Jarah utters. I force myself to exhale and release the edge of the table I’m gripping. “Is this why you went to the tattoo parlor where Daegan was attacked? To…right the wrongs?”

  A predatory stillness settles over Jarah. He drags his gaze from me to Nolan. “Daegan was attacked at the Bear Claw?”

  Nolan inclines his head. “I scented you there.”

  I focus on Jarah, silently imploring him to be honest with me. “Why were you there, Jarah?”

  “The young female who works there is a witch.” Jarah wets his bottom lip and focuses on my feet before dragging his attention to my face. “A very powerful witch. Probably the most powerful I’ve ever encountered. She’s a sweet young woman, though. Kind, you understand? I’ve been a part of her life since she was a child. And she doesn’t understand the power she holds. I offered her a job not long ago, a place to stay, that sort of thing.”

  “So you could watch her even if you can’t kill her.” Or at least that’s what I’m assuming considering the direction of this conversation.

  Jarah nods. “She’s a good tattoo artist too. Makes me a lot of money.”

  “You don’t think she had any part in Daegan’s attack, do you?”

  Jarah slides his focused stare to Nolan. “I want to say no, but I can’t with a hundred percent certainty. People aren’t always what they seem. Neither are their agendas. Good is only relative anyway. All depends on what drives the person.”

  Nolan smirks. “Well said, ancient.”

  “Jarah. Not ancient. My mother named me Jarah.” The reprimand is sharp.

  Nolan dips his head, never breaking Jarah’s stare. “Jarah.”

  “And what drives you, Jarah?” Maybe he’ll tell me. It’s worth a shot.

  “Many things. Power, family, purpose, honor, loyalty.” Jarah steps next to my table and uses a wad of napkins to clean up the coffee I must’ve spilled when I’d jumped at Jarah’s approach. “It depends, honestly. I’m a complicated man.”

  “I’m learning most shifters are.”

  “Yes, we are.” Jarah grips my elbow and urges me to stand. “Dante’s waiting for you. He’ll take you home. Ilan and I will be staying here for a while, visiting with Daegan and waiting on Ezra to wake.”

  While I want to demand to see Ilan, I can’t without giving away the fact we’re not soul bonded. I implied to Nolan we were, or at least I didn’t deny Nolan’s assumption. I nod, acknowledging Jarah’s statement instead of betraying the knowledge I can’t touch Ilan’s mind. “Then I’ll wait for Ilan at home.”

  And while I’m waiting, I have a lot to think about. The line between rumor, speculation, and truth are blurred at the moment, and I don’t know who beyond Ilan to trust. Actually, that’s not true. Part of me trusts everyone, Nolan and Jarah included. That’s why I’ve earned the nickname Goody Two-shoes. I’m a naïve pushover according to many people. In truth, I see everyone’s side. That’s a tough place to be when deciding who’s right and who’s wrong. It’s a good thing I’ll never have to decide who lives and who dies.

  Thirty-Three

  Sara

  Darkness surrounds me. Miles and miles of darkness. No matter which way I turn, unmoving, tall, and silent sentinels block my path, forcing me to fumble for an opening between the trees.

  With an arm outstretched, I run blindly, stumbling and sliding on the frost-covered leaves. The underbrush stabs me through my jeans. More sharp bites of pain. More time wasted.

  On a harsh grunt, I plow through the thickets, not knowing how deep this section is or where it’ll lead me, but only knowing I can’t stop. I can’t go back. All I can do is go forward.

  Lurching from the patch of dry, deadened shrubs, I whack my shoulder against another wide tree. A cry crawls up my throat as numbness radiates down my arm. I clench my jaw, refusing to allow the sound to escape. I don’t need to make it any easier to find me. My trail of blood and tears is enough.

  The sounds of breaking twigs reach me. I glance over my shoulder, but all I see is darkness. Even the thicket I waded through is swallowed by the night. I focus on the light of the moon breaking through the trees ahead of me, my beacon in the night. Tightening my grip on the tattered plaid blanket so as not to lose the bundle, I run faster.

  A tree branch whacks into my stomach, tearing a rough sound from me. The balled blanket unravels. I snatch the rough wool and the hilt of the knife inside before I lose my only weapon and push on.

  Almost there. I’m almost there.

  I choke on my tears, my pain, my sorrow, and I drag my almost broken body to
the clearing ahead of me.

  A distant wolf’s howl cuts through the night, mixing with the raw vulgar curse of the man chasing me. I’m out of time.

  Death has found me, but I don’t fear it. I’m ready to look it in the eyes.

  * * *

  “Sara. Look at me.”

  A soft caress against my cheek tears a gasp from me, drawing me from my nightmare.

  “Ilan.” His name is on my lips before I open my eyes. I don’t question who’s in bed with me. I feel complete. Only Ilan can fill the hole in my heart, in my soul, in my life. He’s my other half, my… “My love.”

  “My Sara.” Ilan’s lips replace his fingers, skimming over my skin with angel wings, a whisper of touch that leaves me aching for more. “I felt your distress and your fear. I came as soon as I could.”

  His words and concern wrap around me, chasing back the lingering memories of death. There’s no room for it here between us. In Ilan’s arms, there’s only life and love. “It was just a dream.”

  Ilan fists the edge of the tangled sheet twisted around my body and drags the silken sheet lower, over my chest, my stomach, my thighs. Eyes closed, I stretch as Ilan exposes my naked body. The sensation of satiny smoothness slipping over my skin leaves me feeling alive and aroused. Every inch of me is sensitized as if erotic dreams had plagued me instead of nightmares. I latch on to the slumberous lust, needing the reminder of life.

  On a deep inhale, I take Ilan’s scent into my lungs and luxuriate in the rich scent of man, letting the intoxicating smell work through me. My muscles loosen, and my body heats. “I was hoping you’d come to me tonight.”

  “Why wouldn’t I? You’re my female, my home. I will always come back to you.”

  On a shaky exhale, I look into Ilan’s face. Completely orange eyes stare back at me. Breath caught, I study the beautiful sight of Ilan lost to his primal side. His wolves are looking through his eyes, watching me.