Pack of secrets, p.9
Pack of Secrets, page 9
A true mate bond, however, was something else entirely. It was a primal, carnal reaction to finding the missing half of one’s soul. Once a shifter found their true mate, the bond would take hold. No amount of logic could reason it away, and nothing could break the connection, not even death.
Cassandra had been my father’s true mate, and when he lost her, he lost a part of his soul.
My sight blurred, and the glowing tapestry of my father’s spirit appeared before me. It had been changing over the years, growing darker and more tortured. I wanted to soothe it, but I couldn’t, even if I had the energy. I’d tried to soothe him once when I was a child, but he knew immediately and flipped out on me. The next time I tried, it was like slamming into a metal wall. The alpha had found a way to block me. He was the person I wanted to help most in the world, and he wouldn’t let me in.
Which pretty much summed up our entire relationship.
Unlike the children from his true mate, born of love and promise, my father must have seen a mistake when he looked at me—the result of a moment of weakness spent in the arms of a woman who never could have replaced the one he lost.
Forcing a smile, I greeted him, “Hello, Alpha.” I closed the door behind me.
I’d called him Dad out loud once. I was maybe seven at the time, and one of the other kids had been flicking me shit about referring to my old man as ‘Alpha.’
“He’s ashamed of her because she can’t shift,” another kid piped in. “Bet he won’t let her call him Dad.”
“Can you blame him? I wouldn’t if she was my kid,” a third kid added.
Determined to prove them all wrong, I’d rolled the endearment around in my mouth for a solid month before working up the courage to drop a casual “Goodnight, Dad” on my way to bed one night. Reaching my doorway, I turned to find his face white and a look of absolute horror widening his eyes.
Dad.
He’d probably loved that title once, but from my lips, it brought him pain. Rust called it guilt. He said the alpha blamed himself for my disability. He’d dishonored the memory of his true mate by sleeping with a woman he didn’t care for, and I’d paid the price. Regardless, losing his mate and legitimate children had broken something in my old man. His suffering was abysmal, and I wouldn’t add to it. Dad was just a word. One I vowed to never speak aloud again. In my heart, he could remain ‘Dad,’ but ‘Alpha’ was the only title that would cross my lips. Sure, our lack of father-daughter connection stung, but he gave me what he could. His heart had shattered long ago. I didn’t fault him for his inability to piece it back together for me. I was just grateful not to get sliced by the jagged shards left behind.
At my approach, he spun around on his stool. He didn’t run to the door and hug me in relief, didn’t give me a bright, cheeky smile that said he was happy I’d made it home. That wasn’t his way. It hadn’t been his way when I was four, and my babysitter accused me of witchcraft and attempted to drown me in the bath. Nor when I was seventeen and had my innocence about men shattered by a guard who was so busy promising to love me forever, he couldn’t hear my screams for him to stop.
No, Dad’s way was to look me over for damage, get the details, and then fix the problem.
“You’re okay,” the alpha said, letting his relief show in the softening of his eyes and the relaxing of his shoulders.
“Safe and sound,” I confirmed.
“And the artifact?”
“Got it.” This time, I beamed. I couldn’t help it. I might not be one of the children born of the mate he loved so deeply, but I could still make him proud. Sliding straps down my arms, I took off my backpack and unzipped the pocket I’d stashed the cup in. My fingers wrapped around the chalice, and it seemed to awaken in my hand. A foreign awareness crept over me, making my skin crawl. I couldn’t wait to offload the creepy cup. Holding it out toward my father, I approached the bar.
Rather than take it from me, Dad leaped off his stool and backed away. “Stop. Right there is close enough.” Was that… fear in his voice? Shocked, I looked from the cup to him. He wasn’t afraid of anything, yet he stared at the chalice like it was a wolf-eating plant. “That’s it. That’s really it.”
I nodded. “It… called to me. Like you said it would.”
“Good—” His voice cracked. Clearing his throat, he tried again. “Good job. You have no idea what this means to me. What it’ll mean for us. This changes everything, Grace.”
The way his voice wobbled made my eyes sting and my throat constrict. I’d never heard the alpha sound so vulnerable before. Honestly, I didn’t know he cared so much about my wolf being free to run and hunt with the pack. Then again, if I wasn’t a shiftless loser anymore, maybe it would reduce the amount of shame he felt over my conception and birth. My heart went out to him. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and reassure him everything would be fine, but the alpha wasn’t a hugger. So, I stayed right where I was and soaked up every ounce of victory I could. He seemed proud of me and hopeful for the future. He was right; this little cup had the potential to change everything between us.
But why wasn’t he taking it from me?
“Don’t you want it?” I asked. He’d never hesitated to take stolen loot off my hands before. The chalice was the most important item I’d ever lifted. He should have snatched it from me and locked it up somewhere safe.
“No. You hang onto it until tomorrow night. Take it to Sereana after sunset. She’ll know what to do.” When I hesitated, he gestured impatiently toward my bag. “Go ahead now, put it away.”
Confused, I slid the cup back into the open pocket and zipped it up. Once it was out of sight, Dad blew out a breath and slid back onto his barstool. I was hoping for an explanation, but he left me hanging and took a long pull from the whiskey bottle.
Questions bounced around my head like rubber balls. I knew better than to ask but ached to understand why my father seemed afraid of the chalice. Was he worried about unraveling some sort of thread if we used it? My previous excitement about finally unleashing my wolf faded, leaving a sour taste in my mouth and an uneasy churning in my stomach.
“Where’s Rust?” the alpha asked.
“He was worried about Janey, so I told him I’d handle the debriefing.”
Dad ran a finger over the lip of the bottle, studying me. “Think you have that kind of authority?”
“No, sir. But the job was successful, and there wasn’t anything to report. Do you know if Janey’s in labor yet?”
Rather than answering me, Dad tensed. “This kind of shit is exactly why Rust isn’t my second anymore. He needs to get his priorities straight.”
Shocked by the flare of vitriol toward his oldest friend, I dropped my gaze in submission. “I’m sorry, Alpha. I shouldn’t have sent him home. I messed up. I’m prepared to shoulder whatever punishment you see fit.”
He laughed, but the sound was more angry than jovial. “Always so damn willing to be the scapegoat. Rust didn’t act on your authority. He knows you don’t have any. Well then, out with it. Give me your goddamn report.”
I didn’t even look up; I didn’t want to see the disgust I suspected would be in his eyes. “After we retrieved the artifact, I tripped an alarm; Rust shifted and drew the guards away while I escaped. He followed shortly after. Nobody followed him.”
He stared at me as if waiting for more.
I suddenly had the urge to ask if he knew about the dragon. Was he the type of leader who’d send his daughter and his oldest friend into a dragon hoard without warning us what we were up against? Maybe, but not if it put the pack in jeopardy. Especially not to release my wolf. I was one defective person. The payoff wouldn’t be worth the risk.
Removing my cap, I set it on the bar so he could check the video.
“Get to bed, Grace.”
No punishment, just an order to get out of his sight. The warm and fuzzies resulting from my victory chilled, leaving me feeling cold, exhausted, and hollow. “Is leatsa mo shaol, Alpha. Goodnight.”
He held up the bottle in a silent dismissal before taking another swig.
Feeling defeated despite successfully acquiring the artifact, I slipped past him and went to my room with only my pile of questions to keep me company.
Grace
Darkness swirled, condensing and coalescing into a familiar tall, dark, and terrifying male form. Significantly larger than the man I remembered, the guardian towered over me though his starkly beautiful features and hard, chiseled body remained unchanged. Silver eyes flashed as power and seduction crackled in the air between us. He drew closer. His impressive height put the intriguing path of dark curls that had previously seized my attention at eye level, my gaze trailing right down the front of his pants.
The happy trail.
A fitting name since I’d be overjoyed to wander down it. Everything about him directed my thoughts toward intimacy. My instincts told me I should cower and grovel before him, but like in the forest, I couldn’t. I stood toe-to-toe with the man, refusing to play small.
I wasn’t afraid of him.
I should have been, but his presence had an entirely different effect on me. My fingertips yearned to explore the texture of his skin. To roam over his powerful jaw, trail down his neck and broad shoulders to the firm pectoral and abdominal muscles below. I wanted to memorize every hard contour of his body. My lips ached to brush against his, to taste him and allow him to taste me. Every inch of my body thrummed with desperate anticipation.
Compelled and unthinking, I reached out.
He snatched my wrist out of the air, halting me before I could make contact. “This is what you really want, isn’t it, little wolf?”
“This? I don’t even know what this is.” My words came out breathy and full of longing. Desire pooled in my lower belly, and need pulsed through my core. I felt strange. Weightless yet heavy. Calm even as my heart raced.
The side of his lips quirked up in a smirk. “Let me show you. I’ll give you what you crave… but first, you must hand over the chalice.”
It took a moment for his words to penetrate my lust and register, but when they did, confusion claimed me. He wanted to talk about the artifact? Now? When things were starting to get interesting? Wait. Where was the chalice? My hands were empty, and the familiar weight of my backpack was missing. “I… I don’t know where it is.” Disturbed by that realization, I scanned the area, seeing nothing but darkness beyond the male. No ceiling, no walls, no forest, nothing but inky blackness for as far as I could see. I sniffed the air but smelled nothing, which alarmed me even more than my missing bag. “Where are we?”
He released my wrist to scoop his hands under my arms and picked me up like I was a child. My feet dangled in the air as our gazes locked. “It doesn’t matter. You’re with me,” he said. “You’re mine.”
Between the unexpected sweetness of his words and the heat in his eyes, my concerns with the situation vanished. How could I care about anything when he looked at me like I was a gift he couldn’t wait to unwrap?
He stalked forward, backing me up until I pressed against something hard. A wall. Before I could wonder where it came from, I was sandwiched between it and him, suspended in the air. Silver eyes held mine as he lowered his head until millimeters separated our lips. Cool air brushed against my heated face, and something in my stomach started fluttering. Lost in the moment, I closed my eyes and willed the guardian to kiss me.
“Look at me, little wolf,” he said, his voice a dark caress against my skin.
Lazily lifting my eyelids, I froze, coming face to face with the black-scaled snout of a dragon. Silver eyes laughed at me as he nipped at my lip. Pain registered, and the coppery scent of blood filled the air.
“I’ll find you, and I will kill you,” he vowed, his voice little more than a growl.
Fear skittered up my spine. I untangled my legs from his waist, wondering when the hell that had happened. Slamming my hands into his chest, I pushed as hard as I could. He staggered backward, dropping me. Landing on my feet, I steadied myself as the muscles of his body contorted. The tips of inky black wings crested his shoulders and continued to grow.
Dozens of warning bells erupted in my head, but I couldn’t look away. As he morphed into a beautiful, awe-inspiring monster, my feet finally moved. I broke into a sprint but only made it two steps before a clawed hand grabbed my wrist and whipped me around to face him. Talons bit into my flesh and a scream caught in my throat.
“Oh no, little wolf. Not so fast. You want the man; you get the dragon.”
Before I could object and tell him I didn’t want either of them, his jaws stretched impossibly wide, and darkness enveloped me.
With a cry, I bolted upright only to realize I was in my bed, tucked safely away in the den. I wasn’t being kissed, attacked, or eaten. There was no man, nor dragon, looming over me. My wrists weren’t cut up, and my mouth was free of blood. Sniffing the air, I caught the alpha’s scent, but it was hours old. I was alone. Relieved, I collapsed back on the bed and stared at the colorful artwork on my ceiling. The discarded drawings and finger paintings created by the pack children always calmed me and made me feel safe.
Safe, but not okay.
No, there was something very wrong with me.
I had the nose of a wolf shifter; therefore, I knew exactly how that dream had affected me. I could smell my arousal.
The guardian had tried to kill me, became enraged when I refused to die, and vowed to see me dead.
And now I was having… erotic dreams about him?
My subconscious was stupid.
“You’re mine?” I asked out loud, appalled at myself.
‘You want the man; you get the dragon,’ replayed in my head, making me wonder if I was certifiably insane. I had to be crazy to come up with that level of bullshit. My mind needed to be washed out with soap, soundly beaten, and grounded for a year.
Sure, the man was attractive, but panting over him in my sleep was moronic. Then again, maybe there was something else going on here. Perhaps the asshole was manipulating my dreams. Could dragons resort to succubus-like enthrallment? What if he was seducing me so I’d return with the chalice and he could lop off my head?
Well, it wasn’t going to work. If the pervert expected me to give up my one shot at freeing my wolf over a bit of dream lust, he would be disappointed.
“I did not consent,” I muttered to myself in reassurance.
Dream me had tried to get away. Even while I was being assaulted by the sight of that glorious six-pack and swoon-worthy happy trail, I’d still clung to enough common sense to flee. Good to know my subconscious wasn’t a complete sex-crazed animal.
Afflicted by dragon seduction mind mojo or not.
Still exhausted, I tried to roll over, but the sheets clung to my clammy, damp skin. Unable to get comfortable, I gave up and climbed out of bed to stand on wobbly legs. Muscles I didn’t even know existed pulled tight, making me feel ninety instead of nineteen. I stretched, folding myself into a series of yoga poses until I could move fluidly once again. The few hours of rest I’d gotten had done wonders for my healing, but I could have slept all day had that stupid dream not awoken me.
I pulled out my phone and checked the screen. No new messages. Mackiel hadn’t texted me back yet, which was odd. He usually sent me a message first thing in the morning. Irritated, I fired off a text.
Me: You alive?
No response.
Me: Were you abducted by aliens? Are you being experimented on? Probed in the anus? If not, you better have a damn good reason for not texting me back.
Still no answer.
I needed someone to talk to, but there was no one else. My attention drifted to the backpack propped in the corner. Last night suddenly felt surreal, and I wondered if it had all been some fantasy worked up by my overactive imagination. Needing to reassure myself, I bolted to the bag and unzipped it, finding the copper chalice right where I’d left it. If the cup was real, so was its guardian.
A little thrill skittered up my spine, making me want to throat punch myself.
Needing a distraction, I picked up the cup and turned on the light to better study it. Odd characters were etched around the lip. I’d never seen the writing before, but it felt strangely familiar. Unlike last night, there was no pulsing, thrumming, or arm tingling. And it sure as hell didn’t unravel any mysterious threads by being in my possession.
I stuffed the chalice back into my pack and stood to go shower. By the time I dressed, made my bed, and brushed my teeth and hair, my stomach was growling like a cornered raccoon protecting its kits. Finding sustenance vaulted to the top of the priority list, sending me to the kitchen where our mini refrigerator lay empty as usual. I didn’t know how to cook and didn’t have the necessary equipment even if I did. Like most other homes in the den, our house lacked a stove. It was an unnecessary luxury since the pack’s head cook provided all our meals, enabling him to monitor food stores and utilize surpluses. Besides, we lived in basements that had been closed off to the above-ground levels. The ventilation was shit. A glance at the kitchen clock told me I could still make breakfast if I hurried. Decision made, I retrieved my backpack from my room and raced out the door.
The mess hall was located in the basement of a hotel toward the center of the den. It was two blocks from our house, but the minute I stepped into the tunnels, I knew what we were having: sausage, eggs, potatoes, and freshly baked bread. The aroma made my mouth water as I jogged the short distance. I was so focused on getting there and filling my rumbling tummy I didn’t see the attack until it was too late.
One minute I was running, and the next, my face was slammed into the brick wall separating the underground walkway from the old filled-in street. Pain registered, and my ears rang as I struggled to make sense of what was happening. For one heart-stopping moment, I feared the guardian had somehow found me and was here to make good on his promise to kill me.
