Becoming Bad (The Becoming Novels) (24 page)

Standing in her front garden, surrounded by the other wolves, Ash frowned at the vehicle as it pulled up to the gates. It even looked like a prison van. Shiny and black, it was a state of the art model, a pimped-out truck with blocky sides, small windows and giant wheels. The
thegn
driving it hopped out to spring open the back doors. Hands cuffed at the base of his spine, Fite was led up from Connal’s basement by a brace of burly bodyguards. As they forced his head down, preparing to bundle him inside the van, the silver-haired wolf noticed Ash, and turned to pin her in the ice of his green-rimmed stare.

‘I do not see why she has to come. We do not need a farewell wave,’ he hissed, each word blade-edged.

Ash cocked a brow. She opened her mouth to answer, but MacTire beat her to it.

‘Ashling will come. If the Morrígan reneges on her promise, she will be close enough to sanctuary.’

She could see the animosity bristle up the curve of Fite’s spine.

‘It’s only a precaution, right?’ Ash said. Her gaze went to the moon, full and bright in the sky. ‘There’s no reason for the Morrígan to renege. She’s my grandmother.’ She turned her face up to Connal, but finding no reassurance in the hard set of his jaw, her tentative smile evaporated.

The
guards went to work securing their prisoner inside the van. There was a caged-off area inside, suited to the purpose. Ash didn’t realise how on edge she was under Fite’s stare until it left her and she relaxed. A convoy of vehicles followed behind, and pretty soon Ash’s house was swarming with Mac’s elite,
thegn,
clean-up team
.

Tyr and the other rebels emerged next, all cuffed, heads hung low in reluctant submission. The cage barriers were secured and then the rest of the wolves filed obediently in. It must have been a regular occurrence, as they slotted onto the benches, clicking on safety belts and settling down, unconcerned.

Ash hesitated, looking down the long line of enclosed bodies and mesh lockers. If they turned on her in such a small place, she’d have trouble defending herself. Mac sat alone on the opposite side, a furrow in his brow, his eyes on the circle of the moon shining through the small window.

Warm hands settled on her hips and she didn’t even have to look to know they were Connal’s. His presence stirred her blood. ‘Are you sure you’re okay with this?’ he said. ‘We can take your car.’

Ash could feel the glare he aimed over her shoulders at a smirking Fite.

‘I’m good, Big Bad.’ Her lips curved a small smile at him and she swallowed as she reached for the handrail.

The other members of the
skuldalid
were watching her curiously. Knutr’s face was strangely bare, his hair damp and less tangled. He waved from his seat beside Brandr. The two empty spaces beside Mac seemed the obvious choice, but Ash found herself second-guessing her next move.

Well, this wasn’t awkward at all.

In the end, Connal made the decision for them. He guided her to the bench opposite a wide-grinning Knutr and closed her in beside Mac. The King took his eyes off the moon long enough to run her head to toe in a black-fire gaze, and then a flare of his nostrils turned him from her.

Ash had an apology on the tip of her tongue. She wore Connal’s scent on her skin like a brand of his possession. Scooching along the bench, she put distance between them and ended up frowning at the opposite wall.

‘Smile.’

Her eyes sought Knutr’s as his voice broke through her thoughts. His face was bright, an exaggerated grin stretching his mouth. Her lips twitched.

‘Not good enough,’ he teased and she chuckled, flashing him a smile before letting it fall back into soft amusement.

Ash reached out a hand to Knutr’s hair.

‘It looks different. Were you guys doing makeovers last night?’ Her voice was quiet and she leaned forward, pretending the glares coming from the wolves either side of him didn’t exist.

‘I found a brush and the elixir in the showering room killed the tangles,’ his hands smoothed the new, soft curls and she smiled at the pride in his voice.

‘You’re looking suave, Knutr. More GQ, less Cro-Mag.’

His cheekbones were high and sharp, bare of the beard and sideburns he’d sported the first time they met. She would have killed for his bone-structure. And saner answers. His ramblings had left her with more questions than she’d started with, and she yearned for more time with him, when he was lucid and spoke in proper sentences.

This man knew her father, and he had knowledge of what really happened to her mother, beyond her nightmarish memories. But with tensions running so high in the enclosed space, now didn’t seem like the time for a probing Q&A. Knutr beamed across at her, looking sophisticated, and then the moment passed over a speed bump and his lucidity went with it. The van was filled with his low mumblings and the
thegn
driver turned up the volume on the radio.

No one spoke as they trundled through the streets of Dublin. Apart from Mac’s huff when she leaned a little too much into Connal, the passengers were silent.

The van slid smoothly to a stop outside Form, the club’s signage catching her eye in a swirl of red and black. The colour made her breathless. When she would have lingered, Connal’s warm hand took hers and led her from the stationary vehicle. His mouth was curved in amusement as she met his eyes, dazed. Wolves piled from the van around them. His voice was low to her ear. ‘You know you get this look.’

‘It’s the colour.’ She wet her lower lip in a slow sweep. ‘It’s intense.’ It made her shaky, made her hungry. She’d forgotten how good it could feel.

‘I’ve got you, Little Red.’ And he did. Connal held her hand and kept her close, supporting her with the firm reality of his body.

They followed the line of wolves through the club’s doors. Inside, Form was strewn with bodies,
thrall
-girls and the occasional guy, sleeping off the full moon lunacy. The girls made her nervous. It was like walking into a pit of sleeping sirens, all ready to wake up and try to fuck them to death. She wasn’t sure how they’d react to her.

Stirred by their masters’ proximity, a number of them reached out with their black, half-mooned nails to brush ankles and thighs, to rub against crotches and claw at the men passing. Brandr caught at a few girls, stealing kisses as Rún hauled him along with the rest of the procession into the lower levels.

In her haste to get out of it, Ash had forgotten how beautiful the club was. Edgy and dark, it spoke of carnality, a lair for the beasts aboveground. She drew her fingers down the damask-papered hallway, guided forward by the constant press of Connal at her back. Lush carpet gave way to polished tile, the warmth of the club cooling to the stone basement as they filed in.

The click of the door’s lock straightened her spine and steeled her nerves. Her senses mapped the room, taking note of space and where each wolf was. They were waiting for something, the faces of the men ranging from fear to anticipation. Brandr shot her a wink and Knutr smiled goofily. Before she could respond, Fite’s silhouette cut across her vision, shaped against the backdrop of the other males. He was riled up for the journey back, triumph and disgust warring in his hissed words.

‘You better pray the Morrigan holds up her end of the deal, because if you set foot in Fomor, there will be war.’

Connal and Mac snarled in unison.

Ash waved them down and tipped her chin at Fite. ‘If I can help it, I won’t be going down there, you don’t have to worry.’

He growled, but nodded. She could just imagine how he was hoping she’d die before she could make it to the waters.

The conduit swirled as though it was aware of their agreement and was beckoning him home. One last scathing glance, and Fite dove into the black pool, disappearing beneath its surface. The last threads of his aggression filtered down the channel’s plughole and Ash exhaled tension. Jostling each other, the remaining wolves fell in pairs into the black depths, swallowed whole and sucked down into Hell. Ash shivered.

‘Rayvn,’ Knutr sang out, a mad strain to the tune, and she turned towards him with a frown. But he was laughing, teasing her. ‘Ah ah ah. I know who you are, Ashling. You are not allowed to look at me like that.’

The back of her hand lashed his shoulder. ‘Don’t do that to me.’

He took her fist gently and she was aware of Connal and Mac moving backwards to give them space.

‘You’ll come and see me, right? Next full moon?’ Ash pleaded, ‘I have so many questions about my mother.’ It hurt, more than she expected. He was possibly the only blood, besides her grandmother, she had left. And, insane or not, he’d protected her. He’d saved her. He had loved her mother and her father. Sadness welled and he shushed her, drawing her into his embrace.

‘A wild pack of wolves couldn’t keep me away,’ he laughed roughly, aiming a pointed look at Mac. When she looked up, he brushed a curl behind her ear. She sniffed and he smiled. ‘Ah, Ashling, you look so much like your mother. It is pain and pleasure to know you, child.’ His lips were warm, pressing to her cheek and he released her. ‘Look after her, Savage. I know where you live.’ Knutr was deadly serious, and Ash was howling laughter internally at the look on Connal’s face. He was dumbfounded and wary. Connal nodded slowly and gripped the arm Knutr stretched towards him in a warrior’s handshake. A blinding smile edged in mania and a cough of water later, and he disappeared through the conduit.

A deep breath inflated her lungs. ‘And then there were three ...’ She tried to smile. Her heart wasn’t in it. It was clenching at the thought of saying goodbye to Mac.

‘Ashling.’ The King full-named her and it was different to when Knutr did it. It was more tender, less familial. The blond wolf stood before her with cracks in his armour and pain on his face.

His fingertips reached to brush against the key,
his
key, hanging from her wrist. Her voice came out soft. ‘Would you like it back?’

‘Keep it,’ he said, his large hand closing around hers. ‘You never know when you might need to find sanctuary.’

‘What about you, Mac?’ The wolves had turned on him once, they could do it again. ‘Please, take this,’ she tugged at the coin around her wrist, trying to pull it free. ‘You told me once it might offer protection. Perhaps, if you need to leave Fomor ...’

Connal’s head shook in her peripheral vision, and Mac’s hand stilled hers. ‘The coin was only ever meant to be worn by one man, but thank you, Ashling.’

‘No,’ she pressed, ‘I’m the one who should be thanking you.’

His head was shaking. She pulled at the end of his braid and reined him to a stop. ‘No, listen. You didn’t have to come. You could have left me to them. You didn’t have to go against your pack, your family, for someone you’ve known only a few weeks.’ He was frowning, the pads of his fingers playing over the trail of veins in her wrist. She let him, her hand fisting his braid. ‘But I’m really grateful that you did.’

‘I had to.’ The proud wolf she’d known in Fomor, the leader, the ruler, the pain in the ass, had lost all his arrogance. Dejection was written in the tense lines of his body, and yet he vibrated with power and purpose.

His eyes hit anywhere but her and Ash tugged his hair again to get his attention.

‘Thank you, MacTire.’ Affection was carved out plainly on her face. ‘For everything.’

She was acutely aware of Connal watching them from the corner of his eye, his body half-turned to afford them some privacy. Her heart swelled with love for her Big Bad and Mac seemed to sense it. He stepped back, piercing her with his black-as-sin eyes as he let his fingers drift from her skin.

‘I will see you again,’ Mac said. ‘In spite of all Fite’s barking, you are welcome in Fomor any time. I’ll just have to leash him more securely.’ There was that smirk, arrogance bleeding into his features. She laughed.

‘Yes, you will,’ Ash replied, ‘and you have to bring Knutr up to see me, so ...’
So we’ll see each other again.

The King brushed a kiss to her knuckles and released her, tilting his head towards Connal. ‘Brother,’ Mac said. A tic twitched in Connal’s jaw, but he didn’t correct the title. ‘We still have a truce, yes? You won’t be hunting my men off the streets?’

‘If they behave, I won’t have to.’ He shoved a hand through the dark, ragged cut of his hair. ‘I don’t want to.’

Mac nodded. ‘I’ll take that. Truce?’ The King’s hand stuck out between their bodies and Connal took his forearm in a firm hold.

‘Truce.’ Connal agreed, shaking himself free of Mac’s hold. Ash caught a look of uncertainty on his face that drew her to move up beside him. She ran her fingers under his shirt, soothing circles to the small of his back, where the muscles were tensed harder than steel.

As the King backed towards the conduit, his coal eyes drank her up, taking her deep, unblinking, like he was going blind and she was the last thing he wanted to remember in perfect detail. Ash’s hand lifted in a small wave, her throat tight, and his lips curved. He bowed, and then, MacTire, like his brothers before him, surged into the conduit and vanished from the earth.