“The gun, Bullet. Give it to me.” His voice was hard now, mean.
She looked up, back down at the gun, and then handed him the weapon as she bowed her head.
“Good, child. Now do as I’ve said and get back to camp.” Then he and Minton were gone.
She untied the others, taking care not to hurt them. The knots on the cuffs were tight, and her hands were cold so it took her a long time. She eventually got them free. All of them banded together to pull Julio’s heavy dead body to the edge of the clearing, and then they walked back to Ninka.
“She’s dead. Why wouldn’t she shut up?” Bone asked as she sat down beside Ninka’s still body.
“She was breaking,” Arrow answered.
“We can’t break,” Bullet said as she wiped wetness from her cheek.
“She was a stupid girl and we are already broken,” Bone replied in a tired voice.
Blade bent over Ninka’s head, lifted it, and placed it in her lap. “We can bend. Like the steel that is used to make my long blades, we can bend.”
“We have to hide her so nothing can hurt her anymore,” Arrow said as she sat down too and began to stroke Ninka’s dirty hair.
“Then we’ll have to say a death prayer, but the God of my fathers doesn’t listen to my prayers anymore, so someone else will have to,” Bone replied.
Bullet rubbed her chest. Her heart really hurt. She wanted to fold her hands and pray, talk to the person named God so he could take away the cold in her bones. Instead, she kneeled beside Ninka’s body, moved in close, and grabbed her hands, flattened them between her own, and bowed her head. Blade stroked Bullet’s hair, too.
Time passed, and there was a shadow of warning in Bullet’s brain—they should hide Ninka and get back to the camp before the black-eyed man came for her and took away the rations she’d earned a few minutes ago. Arrow whispered in a foreign language. It sounded like the same thing over and over, but Bullet didn’t speak like Arrow did, so she didn’t know what the other girl was saying. Bone stared at the ground, but her hand was on Ninka’s arm, squeezing and letting go, squeezing and letting go.
They were all there, but Ninka was gone from them. Five had become four. Bullet looked up at the sky, the very blue color so bright it pierced her eyes, made them water again. Then she leaned over the girl’s head which still rested so peacefully on Blade’s lap, placed a kiss on her brow, and whispered, “I’ll kill them, Ninka. I’ll kill them all.”
Warm breath hit Kathleen Davis’s neck, giving her only a second’s notice before she heard, “You’re mine.”
A chill crawled up her spine. A firm hand grabbed hers and gave a tug before she’d even seen the face that went with the voice and lips only millimeters from her ear.
Something didn’t feel right. Her heart pounded as adrenaline pumped through her body.
She stood taller, glancing around the crowded noisy room before turning toward the squeaky male voice. No one was currently paying attention to her. She’d been flitting from table to table, meeting other wolf shifters and enjoying the atmosphere of the meeting room.
Her face fell as she turned toward the man who’d spoken only those two words to her before pulling her toward the door. She was graced only with the back of his head. No face. Just a shock of thick black hair in need of a cut. He was short. Not more than an inch taller than her own five five.
His hand gripped hers tighter, sweaty and infuriatingly tight to the point her fingers ached.
She followed dutifully. He’d said she was his. She felt nothing. Wasn’t there supposed to be some sort of spark? A beam of light? A sign that he was indeed her mate? Didn’t the women feel the same intense connection as the male shifters?
In moments, the man weaseled his way through the crowd and out into the hallway. He kept walking until they rounded a corner. No one was around. Of course. Everyone who was unattached and looking for a mate was in that room.
It was Saturday night, the first night of the biennial gathering. The only people who would be leaving that room right now would be wolf shifters who encountered their mates and wanted some time alone. Was she one of them?
The dark-haired man turned toward her and pressed her into the wall. He smiled, but nothing about his face was sincere.
Kathleen gasped. She held her breath. He reeked. He needed a shower and a toothbrush. His dry lips curled up in an apparent grin, but it was ominous. His eyes were dark, but she couldn’t read his intent in them.
He held her to the wall with his entire frame, making it impossible for her to move an inch in any direction. He was strong for someone so small. Broad. No . . . overweight.
He grabbed both her biceps with his hands and leaned his face in closer. “You look so much like your sister. I hope you aren’t as big of a bitch as she was.” With one hand he reached to toy with a lock of her hair, twirling it around his finger before he grazed her cheek with his thumb.
What the hell? Her sister? Mackenzie or Cassidy? And what was he talking about?
Cassidy was giggling it up with her friends inside the meeting room. She was only nineteen and not ready to even consider mating.
Mackenzie, twenty-three, was where? No one had seen her for hours. Kath assumed she was hiding in the car with her chip on her shoulder, unwilling to succumb to the mating ritual.
Had this crazy man actually had an encounter with Kenzie earlier?
Kathleen turned her head to one side to get a breath. She couldn’t bear sucking in air with the man’s face in front of her.
He gripped her jaw, too forcefully, and turned her face back toward his. “Mine,” he repeated.
One thing she knew with absolute clarity—she was not
his
. He was delusional.
When he tried to lower his lips to hers, she pushed against him. “Get off me. I’m not yours.” The resistance was futile. He was too big. “I’ll give you two seconds to walk away and then I’m going to scream. Got it?” Something about him made her believe he was not all there, mentally.
He only chuckled. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Why? The man had a screw loose.
“I’m Marcus, by the way. And I’m going to claim you.” As he smashed his dry lips into hers, she lifted her knee and slammed it into his groin. He buckled, hunched forward, releasing his grip on her.
Kathleen wiggled free and scrambled away. Gasping for breath, she ran as hard as she could down the hall, not considering the direction she was headed or the fact the majority of the meeting attendees were in a room behind both her and her assailant.
“Stop! You bitch! What’s with you Davis women anyway?” She could hear him catching up with her.
She ran harder, wishing she hadn’t worn a sundress and cute sandals. “Cute” shoes weren’t made for speed.
When she rounded a corner, she saw several closed doors. It was quiet in this corridor. Whatever conferences had been held there earlier in the day were all disbanded now. The older adults had probably headed toward the dining hall or a social event.
Desperate, Kathleen reached for a random door and found it unlocked. She slipped inside the dark room and pulled the door shut silently.
Her chest heaved. She couldn’t control her breathing, which seemed louder than it should in her ringing ears.
As she set her forehead against the cool surface of the door, a throat cleared behind her, scaring the piss out of her.
She whipped around, half expecting to find the crazy man who’d hoped to claim her from the hall. Irrationally, she wondered how he’d gotten the upper hand.
She leaned against the door and stared into the darkness. She had no idea what sort of room this was, let alone who might be sharing it with her.
“Hiding from someone?” The deep male voice came from across the room. It was filled with mirth. He had no idea how accurate he was.
Suddenly leery of just about any member of the male species, she pressed herself firmly into the door. Opening it wasn’t an option. How about slipping between the cracks in the hardwood floor and vaporizing?
“Yes.” What else could she say? It was the truth. But she had no idea how well she could trust this newcomer hiding in the dark. Maybe he was in cahoots with the asshole chasing her.
He stepped out of the shadows and materialized in front of her. He was huge. Tall and well built. She swallowed the lump in her throat and flattened her palms against the door. If he meant her ill-will, she wouldn’t stand a chance.
Kathleen jumped nearly out of her skin when the man reached around her, his fingers grazing her own. A soft snick filled the silence. He’d locked the door.
Shit
. Had she just jumped out of the pan and into the flames?
“There. Whoever it is, they can’t get in here now.” His voice was gentle, soothing. He was over six feet tall, but she could still smell his breath as he stood close. Minty with a hint of red wine. So very much better than Marcus the Schmuck.
He stepped back. “Relax. Want to tell me about it?” He reached for the wall next to the door and flipped a switch. The room filled with light, making her squint.
“Oops. Too bright.” He grabbed the knob next to the light and twisted until the room dimmed to a tolerable level. “Come on in.” He stepped backward with one eyebrow lifted. “Unless, you’d rather take your chances in the hall.” His smile warmed her. The shaking subsided enough for her to take a deep breath. His teasing was a relief after the last several minutes of torture.
“No. Thanks. The hall is . . . not desirable right now.” Though she had yet to assess whether or not this particular gentleman was any better. He seemed friendly. At least he hadn’t shoved her against the wall and attempted to stick his tongue down her throat. That was an improvement.
“What happened? You are out of breath and. . .” He took a giant step forward and grabbed her wrist, lifting her arm up. “What the hell happened?” he repeated. Now his voice was angry. His gaze landed on her biceps and she ducked her head to follow his line of sight.
Shit. Her bare arm sported the obvious hand print of her assailant.
The tall behemoth holding her wrist as gently as if he were a doctor ran his free hand through his thick blond hair. He lifted his gaze back to meet hers as she stared up at his face. Deep blue eyes bored into her, narrowed in concern. A wave of hair fell across his forehead. She wanted to touch it for some reason.
When she sucked in a long breath, she froze. Damn, he smelled good. Her brain scrambled as she stared without blinking. A sudden need to lean into him and let the weight of the world transfer from her to him consumed her.
Suddenly, he dropped her arm as though she’d burnt him and stumbled backward a step.
“Holy mother of. . .” His voice trailed off.
Kathleen flipped her arm over, meaning to glance down at it, but she couldn’t take her gaze off the sexy blond god currently closing his eyes and ducking his head as though in shame.
Was her arm that bad? She knew it ached from being squeezed in the hall, but surely it wasn’t so bad it would make a grown man cringe in distaste.
He turned away, wandering back into the room until he collapsed into a chair and leaned his forehead on his palms, his elbows on his knees. Did he have a sudden headache?
“Sit,” he whispered. He released one hand to point at the couch next to his chair. He didn’t glance up.
Shaking, Kathleen inched her way farther into the room. She felt compelled on some deep, unrecognizable level. Why would she follow the demands of this man who’d behaved only with the oddest of mannerisms since the moment she’d entered the room?
Gingerly, she perched on the edge of the sofa and crossed her legs. She suddenly felt underdressed. The sundress she’d purchased specifically for tonight seemed out of place, cheap, and too flimsy compared to the elegant suit-wearing man in the chair. The only thing out of place about him was his tie, which he’d loosened at the neck, the top button of his perfectly creased, starched, white dress shirt undone.
“What’s your name?” he asked. He kept his face toward the ground. He dug his palms into his forehead now as though he were in pain.
“Kathleen,” she muttered. “Kathleen Davis.”
He breathed heavily for several seconds and then lifted his gaze, a pained expression covering his face. He’d clearly rather be shoveling shit than talking to her. “How old are you?”
She stared at him, angry now. Who the fuck cared how old she was? And what the hell was the matter with him?
She stood. “I’m gonna go.” Hopefully the coast was clear in the hall. She was so unwanted in this room, she was no longer sure the strange, mentally-challenged imbecile in the hall wasn’t her better option. She eased around the chair, not taking her gaze off the blond man following her with his own gaze.
He shook his head before she could advance more than a few steps. “Like hell. Sit.”
She flinched. He narrowed his gaze, demanding compliance with just a look.
She gripped the back of the chair and returned the stare. She straightened her spine, not letting him get the best of her. Fuck him. Who the hell did he think he was? Just because he smelled like sex on a stick and made her knees weak and her heart pound didn’t give him the right to order her around.
On a dime, he changed his facial expression, a grin spreading across his lips. He laughed. “Well, aren’t you stubborn? Sit, Kathleen.” He nodded toward the chair again. “I’m not used to such defiance. Tell me what happened in the hall. Please.” His voice was firm even though he’d lightened up a smidge.
Kathleen rounded the chair and resumed her spot. If he was going to stop growling at her, he wasn’t so bad. When she looked back into his eyes, he gave a small snort, clearly pleased with her obedience.
Her palms were sweaty and she wiped them on her short cotton skirt, gripping the material and balling it up in her fists. Too much leg was showing, and she quickly released the dress to smooth it out as far as it would reach, not even to her knees.
Why on earth had she ever thought this dress was perfect for this night?