Everything Carries Me to You (Axton and Leander Book 3) (54 page)

"He asked for you," Trevor said. "Come."

Leander put his book down. It was time. Then again--he picked his book back up as he exited the house.

Outside, under the light of the full moon, a dozen werewolves were assembled. At the front of the group was a big, broad shouldered wolf that Leander recognized as Dru, and in front of him an even broader wolf who was Dana, and then, in front of Dana, teeth bared--

Axton
, Leander thought, his heart throbbing with longing already.
Fucking hell.

Above Axton and Dana, standing sinister and ready on higher ground, was...

"The Russian," Trevor muttered. "Why'd it have to be the Russian?"

Axton's father was smaller than Dru, but powerfully built and apparently fearless. He was ignoring his son and Dana alike, eyes fixed on Dru and unwavering. He didn't seem likely to start a fight, exactly--but fuck it, Leander thought. You didn't need to be a werewolf to be able to read the situation. That was a man who was ready to
finish
a fight. You didn't fuck with that kind of silent, steely eyed motherfucker. Leander hoped he'd calculated everyone's emotional reactions right, because that was not a man who was going to trash talk and give him openings, like Dana was prone to doing. Axton's father did not look like a man who would waste time woofing.

Trevor fell down to his knees and finished his change. Leander looked away, because no one else seemed capable of shifting as seamlessly as Axton did. It always looked so painful.

"Did no one stay in a talky shape?" Leander muttered. "Seriously? Am I the only one here with the right throat equipment?"

Trevor gave him a wounded look.

"I'm sorry," Leander said.

With a hang of his head, Trevor said he was sorry, too. Slowly, he walked over to stand behind Dana.

Three against two even if the rest of the pack didn't jump in, and
yet
. No one was lunging for it.

"Right," Leander said to no one in particular, taking a deep breath. He walked for a bit until he found a stump to stand on.

"Friends!" he shouted. "We're not here to fight."

A dozen furred heads turned to him and tilted curiously. Only the wolves in front didn't look at him--the two pack leaders plus Axton and Dana.

"At least," Leander amended, "
you're
not here to fight." He raised his voice, nodded respectfully. "Ilias," Leander said. "Thank you for coming."

The Russian inclined his head to show he'd heard, but his stare didn't waver. He wasn't going to give Dru an opening.

Leander was going to go on, but he was trying to address Axton next, and for a second he didn't trust his voice to not break on his lover's name--

He was saved by the turning of several heads, as the sound of a human body in an all-out run neared--

"Nice of you to join us," Leander said, sounding only a little bit strained.

"Sorry," Jack panted, moving to stand next to Leander.

"I mean, they had time to go
fetch
me," Leander muttered. "I would have assumed--"

"They can hear you, you know," Jack said, "even if you whisper."

Leander ignored this and all else; changed his mind; walked to where all the key players were assembled.

"If Ilias is willing to oversee the proceedings as the neutral party," Leander said, done now with nerves and preamble, "I challenge Drusus Weiss to trial by combat."

A chorus of howls and barks erupted.

"No, he can do that," Jack said. "There's precedent. It's still a practice widely in use throughout North America, brought over from the old European packs, though it hasn't been invoked here since--" Jack broke off to leaf through the book he was holding, "1964, and that was a land dispute." He snapped the book shut and looked up. "There's precedent for a human challenger as well," he added, for good measure.

"If we could all reconvene, for my benefit, in shapes that require words to communicate," Leander said, "I'd appreciate it."

He stood up straight, hands tucked behind him, and did not look over at Dana. He could
feel
how Dana was about to foam at the mouth with rage. With any luck, Dana would be so outraged that he'd just keel over from the force of it and die. Technically, that wouldn't even be murder, kind of. Probably.

Leander could feel, too, that Dru had finally turned away from the stare down to look at him instead. In his time here, Dru had hardly bothered to see him--Leander figured that Dru thought him so insignificant, so harmless, that he hadn't been worth checking up on personally. And who knew what sort of story Dana had spun, and how much of it Dru had figured out. Leander had essentially bet his life on Dru feeling contempt and disgust instead of hatred and violence. Up until this moment, he had calculated correctly. But what about now?

"An hour," Jack announced. "Everyone prepare their arguments."

The clock ticked and minutes were just wasting away and Leander was pacing the room he was in, back and forth and--

The door opened and Axton rushed in. Leander didn't have time to move, because Axton was
there
and throwing himself at Leander hard. They wrapped their arms around each other and squeezed, not obviously an embrace of lovers but holding too long for friends, and Axton did not kiss him, but turned his head to rest on Leander's shoulder as he crushed them closer together.

"Leander," was all he could say, voice thick.

"Axton, Axton, Ax," Leander murmured, words lost to Axton's hair. "What's--"

Someone else stepped into the doorway. Leander heard the clearing of a throat and then Axton was pushing away abruptly, wiping at his eyes.

Leander's eyes darted wildly between Axton and his father for a second--Axton hadn't tried to lie about anything, had he? Axton was a shit liar. Leander was madly in love with him, but Axton was one of the worst liars he'd ever met. How was he supposed to play this? Obviously Axton's dad cared enough to
show up
, but...

"Mr. Rhoden," Leander said. "Again, thank you for--"

"No, no, uh," Axton said, wiping still at his eyes and fighting to not sniffle. "Um. Rodion, not Rhoden, and it's sort of a middle name but also--"

Still standing in the door, Ilias cocked his head to the side, eyes glittering with what might have been amusement.

"Vuk," he said. "Ilias Vuk."

Axton sighed.

"Leander Avilez," Leander said, taking a step forward with an outreached hand. Obligingly, Ilias met him halfway.

"It is good you asked for me," Ilias said, which was, Leander supposed, as close as he was likely to get to a
nice to meet you
. Ilias had a good handshake, firm and--unlike Axton's--appropriately timed.

"Yes, well," Leander said, "it seemed like the only thing to do, really."

Ilias turned towards Axton.

"You use your mother's name?" he asked.

Axton hesitated, eyes downcast, but then he looked up and said, clearly, "Yes." He glanced over to Leander and added, "Axton Vuk. I can't--just--it means wolf."

"Of course it does," Leander said. "Of course."

"It's an old Slavic name," Ilias said. "Very noble."

Leander couldn't tell if he was joking or not, and he was surprised to see that this was apparently where Axton got much of his sense of humor.

"Axton Rodion, Rhoden, Wolf," Ilias said, "whatever you want to be called--I would talk with your friend now."

Axton shifted his weight from foot to foot uncomfortably, clearly wanting to object.

"It's all right," Leander said softly, though he had no idea if this was true. "It's all right, Ax."

"I'll be in earshot," Axton said.

"Outside," Ilias said.

"That's fine," Leander said quickly, rushing to prevent Axton's objections. "That's fine."

Axton locked eyes with him, questioning, and Leander tried to smile reassuringly.

Oh god I'm going to get hate-crimed by a werewolf
, Leander thought bleakly.
Again
.

But unlike Axton, Leander was a wonderful liar, so his small smile was soft and calm. Axton hesitated, but nodded and left the room. Ilias followed him to the threshold.

There was a guard stationed at the door. Leander hadn't seen who it was. Trevor and Frank had ushered him in and closed the door. It could have been anyone.

He hadn't realized that Ilias had been practically smiling at them, but Leander realized it now, because there was an entirely different look on his face.

"Leave us," he said flatly, staring down whoever was the outside the door. Evidently this was effective, and Ilias watched with apparent satisfaction as whoever it was abandoned their post.

Fuck
, Leander thought.

With an unreadable expression, Ilias turned back to him and gestured to a table.

"Come," he said. "Sit."

It was, Leander realized, exactly the kind of thing he usually did to other people. His plans were going well, but he was not entirely in charge here. He knew it. He knew that Ilias knew it.

Leander sat.

"You are a very brave man," Ilias said as he sat, looking at Leander keenly.

"Mostly just desperate," Leander said, with a shrug.

"No," Ilias said.

There was a tense moment, and Leander broke away first, glancing away quickly and then back.

"Not desperate
yet
," Leander allowed.

"Not many men would invoke trial by combat," Ilias said, "werewolf or no. Let alone against a murderer."

"Alleged murderer," Leander said.

Now Ilias shrugged, and Leander saw that here was not only Axton's sense of humor, but a portion of his strange grace, too.

"It would not surprise me," Ilias said. "It used to be very common."

"And now?" Leander asked.

"Now there are so few of us," Ilias said. "Less common." He paused. "But I did not come here to discuss your plans for this pack."

"Why
did
you come here?" Leander asked. "I thought you would. I counted on it. But I can't say which reason out of potentially many brought you."

"My son," Ilias said, "asked me to."

"And that was enough?" Leander asked, guarded.

Ilias tilted his head to the side, as if considering Leander from a different angle, and did not answer right away.

"This time," he finally allowed, "it was enough. This time."

"I'll take it," Leander said.

"It was not easy," Ilias said.

"I imagine not."

"Axton came to me, stumbling through the snow, half frozen…asking for my aid. No word for more than ten years and he appears only when he needs me…do you think that was easy for him, or for me? 'You would ask this of me,' I said, 'you would bother me with trifles?'"

"How'd that go over?" Leander asked.

"He convinced me that it was not a trifling matter," Ilias said, "but it was difficult for him to ask. I made it no easier. But there was something else." He paused.

Oh god,
Leander thought,
what now
.

"I came to talk to you," Ilias added.

"Yeah?" Leander said warily.

"There are some things you may understand," Ilias said, "that Axton does not."

"And why would that be?" Leander asked.

"You are close in years," Ilias said, "but Axton is very young for a wolf. You are not so young for a human."

Lee supposed that was true.

"I'm not
old
," he said. "As much as I like to joke about it, I'm not old."

"You have decades before you," Ilias said. "Axton has at least a century. Perhaps two."

Leander let out a low, almost hissing breath.

"I see," he allowed. "You mean that I'm farther along in my lifespan, proportionally speaking. So in a way, I'm older. Presumably that means I'm also more mature."

"Yes," Ilias said. "So it is your responsibility to understand. Maybe even to explain."

"Confronting your own mortality is difficult for everyone," Leander said. "And here it might be irrelevant. I could end up dead by the end of the night."

"You will live," Ilias said. "You did not plan this far to allow yourself to die tonight. That is part of why you brought me here, to make sure. You knew that they fear me here. Do not avoid this conversation."

Leander sighed, rubbed his temples. It was purely a nervous affectation; he had no headache.

What he did have was a stab of anxiety, but he could and would control it, once he had a moment to gather himself together.

"So you know we're not friends," Leander said evenly, a few beats later. "Axton and me. You know that we're lovers."

Ah,
there
. There was a flicker of--not discomfort, exactly, because to be uncomfortable was to be in some limited way wounded. Ilias did not look wounded, but he nonetheless gave the impression of leaning away without moving an inch.

"Yes," he said, and he paused, looking out into the distance. "That is what I came here to talk about."

Leander had time to brace for it; he had expected this conversation, or something like it, so his mask was already in place. All he did was blink, and then he gestured with his arm.

"By all means," he said. "Go on."

Ilias took his time, bringing his unfocused gaze gradually on to Leander until his eyes were cool but sharp.

"Eventually you will die," Ilias said finally. It wasn't a threat, nor was it particularly sympathetic. His tone was matter of fact and final. "Eventually you will die and my son will mourn you."

"Yes," Leander said readily, because he had no logical way to dispute that statement, so any other answer would show hesitation, and that could be interpreted as weakness.

"Mourning you will likely kill Axton," Ilias said.

"That's not--no," Leander said, because this turned out to
not
be the conversation he'd anticipated. "I mean, yes, we're very much in love, thank you, but saying Axton's going to die of a broken heart is a little melodramatic, don't you think?"

"No," Ilias said coolly. "You do not understand."

"I think he's stronger than you give him credit for," Leander said, fighting to keep his voice from rising as blood rushed to his face. "I think you--"