CHAPTER EIGHT

Fang was nauseated as reality came crashing down and crushed him. His stupid fight had cost his sister the life of her mate and it would take her from them as soon as her litter was born.

How could he have been such an idiot?

“Fang, you can’t blame yourself.”

He heard Aimee’s words, but he knew the truth. “They wouldn’t have even known we were here had I not attacked them.” For you. He didn’t say that last bit out loud, but it burned in his mind like a fiery coal.

What have I done?

“Fang—”

He pushed her hand away. “Please go. Every time you get near me, something bad happens.”

Aimee recoiled as if she’d been slapped. And those words stung as much as a physical blow. She tried to tell herself that it was his pain that made him lash out. But it didn’t matter. It still hurt.

“I’ll go, but if you need a—”

The look he turned on her was harsh, biting, and condemning. “I don’t need shit from you or anyone else.”

Her throat tightened instantly. Nodding, she took herself home, back to her bed where she sat stunned by his rejection. It shouldn’t hurt at all.

So why did it? And it wasn’t just a little ache. Her heart felt battered and stomped on.

He’s just a stupid, angry wolf.

True, and she needed to put it behind her. She needed to put him behind her. There was nothing she could do for him. She needed to focus on her own future and finding herself a mate who was appropriate for her station. One her family would not only accept, but be proud to bring into their ranks. That was her duty to the ones she loved.

Tomorrow she’d find her a bear and there would be no more thoughts of Fang or any other wolf.

Fang felt like crap. He shouldn’t have yelled at Aimee and he knew it. It wasn’t her fault. He’d been the one to jump into the fray without thinking. Blaming her was pointless. It was his anger at himself that he couldn’t really cope with. Blaming her was easier than blaming him.

But in the end, he knew the truth.

He was the sole reason Anya would die. His temper and need to fight had caused this. The wolf in him wanted vengeance over that. He wanted to bathe in the blood of his enemies. To wash away his anger and guilt with their deaths.

If only it were that easy.

But his human side knew that no amount of violence would undo what had been done. Anya would die and it would be all his fault for trying to save a bear he shouldn’t even care about.

So why did he?

Unable to cope with it all, he returned to his wolf form to lie on the damp ground while thoughts chased themselves through his head.

In the end, he kept coming back to a single reality—how could one chance meeting with one person on a crappy afternoon alter his life so much? How was it possible that a bear had somehow wormed her way into his heart and have ruined his entire life?

* * *

Eli walked the floor of his dark, immaculate study as he imagined skinning his own son. Yes, the boy was still young, but how could he be so imbecilic? So reckless . . .

Now the Katagaria wolves knew they knew of their existence and they’d be hunting for them. The element of surprise had been lost.

Damn you, Stone.

“You summoned me?”

Eli paused to find Varyk standing in front of his black wood ro-coco desk, watching him. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. That man had the creepiest ability to travel completely undetected. He’d never seen anyone more accomplished at hiding their scent or presence.

“We have another mess.”

Varyk took the news with complete stoicism. Then again, he took everything that way. “Stone?”

Eli winced. “Of course.” There was no need to deny what Varyk could easily verify. “Stone’s tessera went after a Katagaria patrol and slaughtered some of their members. I’m sure they’re now gunning for us.”

To Varyk’s credit, he didn’t make a face or any indication of emotion. “You wish me to clean this up?”

“I want your opinion on the best way to proceed.”

Varyk crossed his arms over his chest and leveled a cold glare at him. “I’d start by killing my son and his crew of idiots before their stupidity spreads to anyone else and infects them.” There was even less emotion in his tone than in his body language.

Eli retrieved his brandy from the small marble table in front of him and took a sip before he responded. “Spoken like a man who has no children. I can’t do that. I’m not an animal.”

“I am.”

Eli arched a brow at that. There were times when Varyk did seem more Katagaria than Arcadian, but he knew better. Tougher than hell itself, Varyk was Arcadian.

If only barely.

Varyk slid his gaze over to the fire that was blazing in the ornate Victorian hearth. “You asked my opinion and I gave it. Of course you have to remember that if I’d been on the island with Gilligan, he’d have been killed ten minutes into the first episode. Where I come from, incompetence and stupidity are reasons for justifiable homicide.”

Eli snorted. “Well, I should like a plan that doesn’t result in the death of my heir.”

“Would a good maiming be considered over-the-top?”

Eli shook his head. Varyk was ever persistent. “My city is being overrun by animals. Before Sanctuary brings in any more, I want you to stop them. All of them.”

“I’m working on it, but you should be aware that taking down Sanctuary isn’t an overnight event. Burn the building. They rebuild and Savitar takes revenge on the perpetrators.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” Eli caught himself as he ground out those words. He calmed down before he spoke again. “If it were that simple, I’d have had them out of here decades ago. What I want is for those bears to be slaughtered.”

Varyk arched a single brow at the man’s tone and demeanor. There was something insidious. A hatred so raw, there was more to this than what Eli said. No doubt this was worth investigating. . . .

“Why so much venom, Blakemore? What have the Peltiers done to you?”

“That is none of your business,” he snarled. “Now go.” He gestured toward the door with his brandy snifter. “Do what you have to, to get that pack of dogs out and then finish off the bears.”

Varyk gave him a mocking bow before he turned on his heel and flashed out of the room, back to his home in the Garden District. It was an elegant antebellum relic that held just the right amount of chill in the air. At four thousand square feet, the house was by no means small, but it didn’t quite qualify as a mansion either.

It was, however, a lovely reminder of his solitary existence. And yet he’d lived this way for so long that he could only vaguely recall another life. . . .

He froze in the hallway as he felt a presence he hadn’t sensed in centuries. Spinning around, he used his powers to pin the bastard to the wall.

“Let. Me. Go.”

Varyk tightened his invisible hold. “Why should I?”

“Because we’re brothers.”

“No. We were brothers.”

Constantine coughed as he struggled to breathe. Kill him. The urgent voice inside Varyk’s head was hard to ignore. It was what he should do. It was definitely what he owed him.

But curiosity won out. At least for a few minutes.

Varyk released him.

Constantine fell to the floor where he gasped on his hands and knees. Tall and well built, he had coal-black hair and sharp features. It was easy to see the jackal in him. Just as it was easy to see the wolf in Varyk. No one would ever peg them as siblings, which was fine by him.

“Why are you here?” Varyk growled out.

Constantine looked up at him. “I’m being hunted.”

“And I should give a damn, why?”

Curling his lip, Constantine pushed himself to his feet. “Since they’ve already mistaken your scent for mine, I thought the least I could do was warn you.”

Varyk scowled at his words. “What are you talking about?”

“How do you think I found you here? A group of jackals came to Sanctuary looking for me. Since I wasn’t there, I knew there was only one other person who could smell enough like me to draw my enemies to them . . . you.”

He gave Constantine a droll stare. “Wow, you figured that out all on your own too. I’m impressed. You didn’t even need to put a quarter in the Zoltan machine. Truly amazing.”

“Knock the sarcasm.”

Varyk closed the distance between them. “I’d rather knock you.”

Constantine tensed, but to his credit, he didn’t attack. He merely stood there, taunting him with his presence. “Believe me, I know. Do you think it’s easy for me to come here after what happened?”

Varyk grabbed him by his lapels and jerked him hard. “Do you really think I care?”

“Don’t you even want to know why I’m being hunted?”

“I truly don’t give a shit. In fact, I hope they catch you.”

Constantine knocked his hands away from him and stepped back. “Fine, brother. I’ll leave you to your solitude.”

“You mean exile.”

Constantine winced, then paused. He looked back at Varyk over his shoulder. “Mom died last spring. I just thought you should know.”

Varyk wanted to be cold and callous. Unfeeling. He wanted that news not to hurt him. Goddamn it, how could it hurt so much after all they’d done to him?

Yet it did. He hated that he’d never had a chance to see his mother one last time.

She’d have only slapped you in the face had you tried.

And right then, he hated himself more for that weakness inside him than he hated them.

“Before I go though,” Constantine said, “I have to ask one question.”

“That is?”

“How did a wolf-jackal hybrid infused with the powers of an Egyptian goddess end up as the lapdog of a man like Eli Blakemore?”

Varyk gave his “brother” a snide smirk. “Well, I guess they don’t call us jack-offs without a reason.”

Date: 2015-02-28; view: 568