Hour of the Lion (The Wild Hunt Legacy #1) (16 page)

murdering people.‖

Calum tilted his head without answering—for death could indeed be a penalty. A shifter

whose actions exposed the clan was killed, either at the hand of his Cosantir or a cahir like Alec.

Her brows drew together. ―I‘ve known about shifters for longer than a few hours. How

would you deal with me—if I wasn‘t such a nice person and all?‖

Awkward question. The mind-wipe ability was called that for a reason. Reluctantly, Calum

said, ―Then a longer period of time is...destroyed. As far back as is necessary.‖

―Leaving big holes in a person‘s mind, and they wouldn‘t know why?‖ She shuddered. ―I‘d

rather die.‖

―Well, you are not dead,‖ Calum said, ―but you do look exhausted.‖ And still worried. An

edge of pity slid under his defenses, and he ran his knuckles down her soft cheek. ―You acted

honorably, Victoria. Your memories are yours to keep.‖

However, the rest of their discussion should be conducted without a human in attendance.

Rising, he held his hand out to her. ―I‘ll escort you home so you can sleep.‖

* * *

Calum wasn‘t his usual smooth self this evening, Vic thought, as he paced silently beside

her. He tried to hide it, but ever since he‘d heard how Lachlan died, anger had simmered inside

him. When a streetlight illumined his face, she saw his pupils had gone back to black. Must be

some shifter thing, although no one else seemed to change their eye color like that.

He caught her look and smiled slightly, setting his hand on her back below the edge of her

coat. Funny how he could terrify her one moment and make her feel so safe the next. If Alec was

like a comrade in arms, Calum was the best kind of officer, one who took to heart any harm to

the ones under his command.

His warmth, his nearness was both comforting…and disconcertingly arousing.

He walked up onto the porch with her. After she‘d unlocked her door, he lifted her chin to

study her face in the moonlight. ―Will you be all right tonight?‖ he asked softly.

―No problem.‖ Her voice came out uneven. The feel of his warm fingers, the sure way he

touched her sent her insides into quivers.

His eyes lightened to a silvery gray. ―Never admit to any worries, do you, little human?‖

Human? Little? The insult lost its sting under his affectionate tone. He stood close enough

she could feel the heat of his body, and his scent surrounded her, brisk and clean and wild, like

the wind from the mountaintops. ―Um.‖ What had he asked? ―No.‖

A vertical crease in his cheek accompanied the amusement in his eyes. ―I‘ll bid you good

night then.‖ His fingers cupped her jaw as he bent and took her lips. With an arm behind her, he

drew her closer. No teasing kisses for him, just smooth possession. His lips were far too

knowledgeable, his mouth demanding, and her world began to swirl. When he lifted his head, her

arms were around his neck.

She pulled them down with a gasp and pushed him away—or tried to. His arm didn‘t loosen.

God, in bed with Alec just hours ago, now kissing his brother? What kind of skanky whore did

that make her? ―Let go of me.‖

He regarded her, brows pulled together, as if confused by her about-face. ―Why?‖

She pushed again, even though her body wanted to move forward, to melt against him so

thoroughly that nothing could separate them. And that was just wrong. Dammit all. ―Calum, your

brother, Alec and I…‖ She swallowed. Why the hell was she tongue-tied? And her tone came out

nowhere near as cold as she might have wanted. Maybe because she was radiating heat to rival

the sun. ―Alec is interested in me,‖ she finished finally.

―As am I.‖ His confusion remained for a moment, then understanding glimmered in his eyes,

and he smiled at her. ―A human. Why is that so easy to forget with you?‖ He kissed her lightly,

ignoring her words completely.

Her body betrayed her, softening, yearning toward his. As if he could tell, that slight smile

came and went on his face. ―You look tired, Victoria. Take this weekend off from work.‖ He ran

a finger down her cheek, leaving heat in its wake. ―Sleep well, little female.‖

Using all her willpower, Vic stepped away from him and into her house. After closing her

front door, she leaned back against it. Fuck, what a night. Her body hummed with arousal from Calum, and yet her insides ached wonderfully from how Alec had taken her.

And she still had jitters from having a knife to her throat. She held her hands out, watched

them tremble. God, she hadn‘t been so close to death since she‘d been caught in that firefight in

Baghdad.

Quite the evening, hey? A party, sex— great sex!— almost getting her throat slit, and for a

grand finale, getting her hormones boosted sky-high from the wrong brother. There‟s nothing

like an exciting, event-filled life.

She scowled, remembering how she‘d gotten caught skulking. If Wells ever heard, he‘d rip

her a new asshole, even though Calum‘s being able to scent her didn‘t seem fair. Surely that

broke one of the spy rules or something.

Shaking her head, she crossed the living room to the fireplace. As she built a comforting

fire, she couldn‘t stop thinking of all the unanswered questions she had. Like where had the

shifters come from? Was this some mutation thing or what? As sparks shot up the chimney, one

flame blazed higher, swirling in a unique dance. And… are those eyes?

Jesus! She jumped back, shivering despite the heat.

Bush-thingies, tree-thingies. Now fire-thingies? I‟m only here to check out shifters, dammit.

She frowned. Maybe she should return to Thorson‘s house and see if she could hear something.

The way Calum had hustled her out like a five-year-old being sent to bed told her they planned to

talk more.

Or I‟ll just stay here. Someday, maybe, she‘d forget the deadly look in Calum‘s eyes when

he caught her spying on them. She touched her throat, tracing the thin scabbed line where Alec‘s

knife had cut.

Alec. He‘d been hurt, thinking that she‘d used him. God, as if anyone could. She closed her

eyes as warmth flooded through her. Great sex was a cold term for what they‘d shared, how he‘d

held her and watched her with those dark, dark green eyes. He‘d seen her, past the smart mouth

and tough attitude to the needy person inside—and he hadn‘t taken advantage. No, he‘d grown

even more tender and insistent about giving her pleasure.

She rubbed her stomach. Yeah, her thoughts made her guts hurt—she glanced down and her

hand stilled. She wasn‘t rubbing her abdomen, but her chest. Over her heart. God, get a grip. And needy? My ass.

She jumped to her feet, paced across the room. So anyway, they hadn‘t killed her. She‘d

fulfilled her oath to Lachlan by talking with Thorson. She was healed. Tomorrow she‘d call Doc

Reinhardt and kick his ass until he‘d okayed her return to duty.

Staying was...not a good idea. She‘d gotten far too involved with these kitty-cat brothers.

Caving in to Calum‘s firm grip and demanding kiss. Swept away by Alec‘s hands on her body,

his smooth voice murmuring to her, his eyes so intent—she shoved that memory aside. It had

been great sex—nothing more.

Instead think how Wells would ream her out if he heard she‘d laid a local. It‟s time to blow

this pop-stand.

* * *

Calum had left with the female, and Alec had gone to sit on the porch, leaving Thorson by

himself. He tried to wrap his mind around the dangers to the clan, but his thoughts pulled away

to follow their own path. Resting his elbows on his knees, he watched a salamander curvet in the

blazing fire. It danced upward into the chimney before diving into the coals in a flurry of sparks.

One ember landed, bright on the cold stone of the hearth, then its glow faded to dull black.

Lachlan hadn‘t been alone when he died, and he‘d had comfort from the human. Oh, she

hadn‘t said as much, but as she‘d tried to recall Lachlan‘s words, she‘d curved her arms as if

around a person. Yes, the boy had been held and comforted at the end.

It eased his grief to know that. And even at the end, the boy had thought of his old

grandfather with worry. With love.

Lachlan hadn‘t told the female, ―Call Gramps.‖ He‘d deliberately sent a human to Cold

Creek, a Daonain-inhabited town. Why?

Thorson looked up as Calum and Alec walked into the living room, deep in a discussion

already. That the Cosantir and the head cahir would include him in their plans was a gift, an

acknowledgment of his grief and need. Silently, he rose and served each a beer.

―Two men at the house. One in a suit—but she called him a thug—and one was ex-

military.‖ After a smile of thanks for the drink, Alec dropped onto the couch. ―Remember those

trappers we drove away? Looked like they‘d had military training. The one with a shaved head

was probably Swane.‖

The wind gusted the windows and the house creaked, settling even as Thorson settled his old

bones in his favorite chair.

Calum took the seat opposite. ―The man tried to create more shifters with Lachlan, for

whatever reason, and failed. Now he‘s lost the one shifter he had.‖

―So they‘re trying to catch another,‖ Alec said flatly. ―The poachers arrived after Vicki and

Lachlan escaped. And they were a hell of a lot closer to Cold Creek than the ones we found

before.‖

―It doesn‘t sound as if Lachlan gave them any information, but his belongings…or

logic…directed them here. Now I wish we‘d questioned them, rather than driving them off,‖

Calum said. ―Even if I had to gut their memories afterwards.‖

Thorson heard his regret and guilt. ―You couldn‘t know if they were guilty or not.‖ He

shook his head. ―You were correct in what you did, Cosantir.‖

―He‘s right, Calum,‖ Alec said.

Bitter lines around his mouth, Calum stared at the fire for a minute, and then scrubbed his

face with his hands. ―What‘s done is done. I fear we have another problem beyond poachers.

Since the man thinks a bite will transform a human, he‘ll search hard for Victoria.‖

―Hell, brawd, you‘re right.‖ Alec straightened, his eyes chilling. ―First step is to find out

who owned or rented that house. I‘ll start there.‖

As the cry of a wolf trailed down from the mountain, Thorson felt the coldness of worry

creeping into his old bones. Were those humans setting traps in their forests even now?

―I‘ll ask Tynan to access the military files and search for an ex-marine named Swane,‖

Calum said, taking a sip of beer. ―We might get a current address from that. We cannot act until

we find them.‖

―And then?‖ Thorson gritted out.

Calum slanted him a look that told him fury burned in the Cosantir as hotly as it did within

him. ―And then, we will treat these murderers as they deserve.‖

The next day, Vic pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it. No way. This was

enough to make her believe Wells really was as psychic as some of his agents claimed.

―Sir.‖ She cleared her throat. ―Did you just say you wanted me to fly to Washington D.C.?‖

―If your hearing is that faulty, I‘ll put you back on medical leave.‖

Fuck, he sounded like he hadn‘t had his coffee today—or for a week or so. ―And once

there?‖

―Report to my office.‖

A meet? Her stomach slid greasily to the floor. She might avoid the subject of shifters on the

phone, but in person? Concealing information from Arthur Wells was as futile as hiding a sin

from God. Or trying to lie to Calum.

―I was looking forward to returning to my assignment in Baghdad.‖ Weak, Vic, weak.

But his voice softened slightly, if that were possible for a voice sharper than a blade. ―I

realize that. However, I‘m scheduled for China next week, and I want to see you in person before

I leave. Five days, Sergeant. Can you manage?‖

Trapped. ―Have I ever not?‖

―No, you always come through,‖ he said quietly and made it all worse by adding, ―I‘ve

missed you, soldier. I‘m pleased you‘re coming back to us.‖

She managed to hang up before she broke down and bawled like a baby. He was the nearest

thing to a family she had. And she had concealed information he really should have.

But why the meet? Had he gotten a hint of what the guy in the suit was hunting—the

shifters. Slumping lower in her chair, she moaned. How the fuck was she going to handle this?

* * *

In the afternoon, Jamie decided that cold weather needed something hot like Italian food.

Calum had hesitated, wanting action. His instincts hammered at him to fight to protect the clan,

but he had no opponent to attack. He‘d sent shifters into the forest, searching for traps and

poachers. Tynan and Alec were hunting through military and Seattle databases. Pacing around

the house like an irritated cat would help nothing.

So he and Jamie walked into town to pick up the ingredients for lasagna. As they carried the

groceries out of the store, he took a deep breath of the biting cold air and smiled at his daughter.

With her mother‘s slender build and her nose and cheeks pink, she bounced along the

sidewalk like one of Santa‘s elves. ―Did you see that gnome?‖ She pointed to the beady eyes

peering from the sidewalk gutter. ―He made a face at me!‖

Calum suppressed a laugh and asked reasonably, ―How can you tell?‖

―Honestly, Daddy. I know they‘re ugly, but he stuck his lips out and—‖ she demonstrated,

and he did laugh.

―Ah, well, the cold makes them ill-tempered.‖