Hour of the Lion (The Wild Hunt Legacy #1) (27 page)

know this because certain powers come with the title.‖

Rubbing her nape, she scowled at him. ―You‘re so full of —‖

As he opened himself to the God, power surged through him in an unstoppable wave. From

the way she froze, his pupils had probably turned the color of night and even a sense-blind

human could feel the hum radiating from him.

She swallowed. ―That‘s why you played judge for that bear guy?‖

―Aye,‖ he sighed. He‘d never wanted to be a Cosantir. He‘d been a lawyer—a damn good

one—living just inside the territory lines. But one does not refuse the call of a God. With his

acceptance, Herne‘s power had fallen upon him like an avalanche, sweeping his past life away.

―What‘s a feral? Is that what got Helen?‖

Bloody hell. ―Aye,‖ he said reluctantly.

―Feral means wild. So did a real mountain lion attack her...or one of you?‖

How badly would this aspect of shifter life terrify her? ―One of us.‖

She glared at him. ―Pulling answers out of you is like getting information from a Su—is

really difficult. Tell me, do shifters just go around attacking their buddies for fun?‖

―Hardly for fun. We are stronger, live longer, are immune to human diseases, but we‘re still

half-human, Victoria. If a Daonain becomes unbalanced mentally…‖ He shrugged, hoping she

wouldn‘t continue.

Her brows drew together. ―But humans don‘t turn into wild animals when they go nuts. Can

it happen to anybody? Are you liable to turn feral?‖

―I fear there is no easy answer to your questions,‖ he said carefully. ―Daonain do

occasionally decide to live in animal form and simply become wild. However, attacking humans

is an aberration.‖ One that occurred all too often.

―How many ferals have you seen in the last...oh, five years?‖

Stubborn wench. ―Maybe ten or so.‖ He felt her stiffen.

―That‘s...that‘s a lot.‖ She shivered, and he didn‘t know whether from cold or from horror.

Why couldn‘t she ask his silver-tongued brother these questions? Alec could make a visit to hell

sound like a tropical vacation.

―Well, when you guys go hunt this feral, I want to go along. I‘m a good shot. Someone can

loan me a rifle and—‖

―No.‖

―Dammit, Calum, Helen is my friend and—‖

―There will be no hunting party with weapons.‖

She shoved off his lap and stood up, legs braced. ―You‘re going to just let that thing go? Let

it attack some other old person?‖

―Victoria, you do not understand. We do not—‖

After giving him a scathing look, she retreated to her bedroom.

Bloody hell.

* * *

The day was almost over when Vic trudged through the village with a pot of stew. Alec had

disappeared. Then Calum had carried Helen to her home and not returned. Vic wasn‘t sure if she

was disappointed or not. Arguing with Calum...hurt, and being angry with him made her feel

sick. Damn him.

When she‘d finally left her room, Aaron had looked up from his game of Scrabble with

Jamie and asked her to carry the stew to Helen‘s house.

Vic took a deep breath of the clean, cold air. She could hear the people in the scattered

cabins, chatting, making supper, laughing. A wave of loneliness rolled over her. Would she ever

have a place to call home? Somewhere she‘d fit in?

―Vicki!‖ Heather came from the side of her mother‘s house, arms full of firewood. ―Are you

coming here?‖

Under Heather‘s welcoming smile, the feeling of loneliness lifted like a morning fog. ―I am.

Aaron sent you guys some stew.‖

―Excellent. Mac ‗n‘ cheese is the pinnacle of my cooking abilities.‖ Heather shoved open

the front door with one hip. ―C‘mon in.‖

Like Aaron, Helen had a log cabin, but where Aaron‘s home was rustic, hers looked bright

and cheerful. A chair and couch were covered in vivid floral upholstery and colorful knitted

afghans were tossed here and there. A small forest of African violets crowded next to a southern

window.

―Feels like a summer garden,‖ Vic said.

Heather dumped the firewood next to an ornately decorated woodstove. ―Makes you forget

the snow outside, doesn‘t it? Why don‘t you put that pot on the stove to warm and sit for a bit? I

want to talk with you.‖

Vic did as she asked, then took a seat at the table. ―What‘s up?‖

―After Calum brought Mama home, he asked me to explain a couple things about Daonain

relationships to you. He seemed to think you‘d be more comfortable hearing this from another

woman.‖

Relationships? ―Hearing what?‖

―Well, you know we don‘t have as many females as males.‖

Vic nodded, remembering Alec‘s painful explanation of why they couldn‘t get involved.

―Right.‖

―Our customs altered because of that. Human monogamy is so a guy is certain he fathered

the children. But we don‘t care who begat whoever, not when our race might die out entirely. So

we rejoice whenever a baby is born, whether its parents bothered to marry or not—and our

marriages aren‘t restricted to one male, one female.‖

Whoa. Orgy time? ―Like a bunch of men and women together?‖

―Nah. At least not in a lifemating. Females are too territorial, especially if we‘re having kids.

Usually it‘s two or three male littermates and one female.‖

As Helen turned to dish up the stew, Vic stared blankly, wondering when her brain would

catch up. More than one guy per woman. Got it.

Which meant the woman probably loved—and fucked—all the men in that relationship.

Wow.

The men were usually littermates. Brothers. Alec and Calum are brothers. Littermates. Vic

felt her jaw drop open.

Heather grinned. ―Looks like you‘re catching the drift. There‘s more, but that‘s enough for

one gulp. Think about it, and we‘ll talk again. For now, let‘s take this in to mother.‖

Vic followed Heather into the bedroom. Daniel occupied a rocking chair in one corner, a

book open on his lap. ―Hey, Vicki.‖

Sitting up in bed, Helen smiled at Vic. Her eyes were clear, and pink color had returned to

her cheeks.

Vic gave a sigh of relief. ―You look much better.‖

―Partly thanks to you, dear.‖ Helen raised her eyebrows. ―In fact, I hear you gave me all

your clothes and walked back to the village completely naked.‖

Vic‘s jaw dropped. ―Excuse me?‖

Helen‘s pressed lips didn‘t hide her smile as she glanced reprovingly at her son. ―I had a

feeling he embellished a bit.‖

―A guy can dream,‖ he said. His grin was fast, the sparkle in his eyes wicked. ―Vicki did

give you all the clothes on top except for a bra.‖

Vic felt her cheeks heat.

―Now Daniel, you‘re embarrassing her,‖ Helen scolded. ―Vicki, come here.‖

When Vic reached the bed, Helen pulled her down for a soft kiss on the cheek. ―I thank you

for the gift of warmth. Aaron said I would have died if you and the boys hadn‘t patched me up so

quickly and kept me from chilling.‖

Vic moved her shoulders. ―Yeah, well, you look really good now considering how much

blood you lost.‖ Vic frowned. Actually, Helen looked too recovered.

―Daonain bounce back quickly,‖ Heather said, handing her mother the bowl of stew. ―Aaron

sent this over with Vicki.‖

―Bless him. I‘m starving. You all excuse me while I rudely eat in front of you.‖ Helen

scooped up a bite. ―Mmmmh, the man can cook.‖

―Any more of that?‖ Daniel asked with a pitiful look. ―I worked hard today too, you know.‖

―Ah, poor baby. Did the wittle baby have to carry his mama who weighs at least a hundred

pounds,‖ Heather said in a syrupy tone.

―Fine, I‘ll get it myself.‖ He stomped out the door. ―And she‘s at least a hundred-twenty,‖

came his voice from the other room.

Vic choked on a laugh as Helen and Heather broke into giggles.

―So, Vicki,‖ Helen said. ―Tell me about yourself. After you get adjusted to being a shifter,

will you stay in Cold Creek?‖

―I don‘t—‖ A knock on the front door interrupted her. Vic heard a murmur of voices, then

Alec walked into the bedroom.

She gasped. He had spatters of blood on his face and hands, more on his shirt. She was at his

side before she could think. ―Where are you hurt? Show me.‖

He glanced down at his clothes. ―Oh, damn. I‘m sorry, sweetie. I should have cleaned up

first, but Calum was worried about you.‖

Vic tried to move his clothes to see where the bleeding came from, but he took her hands.

―It‘s not mine.‖

―Then—‖ Had he gone hunting and killed a deer? ―Okay.‖

―Thank you, Alec,‖ Helen said as tears filmed her eyes.

Heather was openly crying. ―Thank you, Alec,‖ she repeated.

Jesus fuck, he‘d done something more than kill a deer. Vic kept her grip on his hand and

yanked him out of the room. Her jaw was set so tight, she had to force out the words, ―Okay, I

think it‘s time we had a talk. In private.‖

―We will.‖ The lines in his face had deepened, making him look another twenty years older.

When they entered Aaron‘s cabin, it was empty. Alec left her, wanting to wash and change,

so she curled up in a chair by the woodstove. She should be getting all her ducks in a row to yell

at him, but her thoughts kept sliding back to that little chat in Helen‘s kitchen. Had Heather

really implied that Alec and Calum might marry the same woman? That‘s why neither of them

seemed worried about fucking around with her? Calum had said, “Alec and I often…share…our

women. Alone or together.”

Wow. A weird feeling slid through her. She could screw them both, and no one would

object? She idly braided a strand of her hair. It sounded pretty cool for sex and everything, but in

a marriage? How bizarre must that be? Not like she‘d ever find out—she had enough trouble just

hanging out with a guy. To marry more than one? Not in a kazillion years.

Neither man had mentioned marriage anyway. Why would they? If shifters didn‘t care who

fathered babies, then guys probably ran wild when single. Vic realized her jaw had clenched

again. She sat back and told her muscles to relax. She wasn‘t jealous of the guys—not really. She

just didn‘t want to see bitch one and two get their claws in them. Not possessive, merely

competitive.

When Alec walked into the living room, she frowned at the paleness of his face. ―Want

some hot chocolate?‖

―Thank you, cariad, but I‘m not hungry.‖ He dropped onto the couch across from her chair.

The laughter that always lurked in his eyes had disappeared completely.

He‘d called her cariad. Darling. She hugged the knowledge to herself. ―Alec, you‘re

exhausted. I can wait.‖

With an attempted smile, he shook his head. ―I won‘t be able to sleep for a while, and I‘d

enjoy your company. Calum said you had questions and weren‘t happy with his answers?‖

Her anger rose again. ―He wasn‘t making any sense at all.‖

―What‘s the problem?‖

―Why isn‘t someone tracking this...feral person? I asked him to loan me a rifle, and he said

no. And that he wasn‘t sending a hunting party out.‖

―Ah.‖ Alec scrubbed his face with his hands. ―Some of our traditions come down from the

Fae.‖

Here we go with the traditions again. ―And?‖

―The Fae used bows and arrows only when hunting game.‖ He moved his shoulders.

―Sometimes humans too.‖

―I‘m not getting this.‖

―Fae fought other Fae hand-to-hand or with knives. Bow and arrows—basically, long-

distance weapons—were only used on animals.‖

―Oh.‖ Vic frowned. ―So shifters don‘t use guns or arrows on other shifters.‖

―Exactly.‖

―And a hunting party? You don‘t do that either?‖

―If needed. But cahirs only.‖

Another fucking new word. She glared at him.

His lips twitched. ―Sorry. We still use some bastardized Gaelic and Welsh from the old

days.‖ He gazed at the woodstove. Behind the glass door, a salamander, scales brilliant as the

flames, spun in circles. ―Cahir are those chosen to defend the clan. You‘d say maybe warrior?

Protector?‖

Soldier. And Calum had said to Alec, “I‟m sorry, cahir.” Alec was a cahir. ―Your God supposedly gave Calum power—powers—whatever. Does a cahir get anything?‖ she asked only

half-sarcastically, for she‘d felt that power in Calum, as if a fucking current of electricity had hummed through him.

―Anything?‖ Alec‘s finger traced the blue-tinted scar high on his left cheekbone. ―A couple

more inches in height, muscle, strength. All at once. I was a cop and in good shape, but I spent

the next twenty-four hours puking my guts up and trying not to scream like a girl.‖ Despite his

light tone, his eyes held the memory of some serious agony.

Nasty. ―Are you the only cahir around?‖

―We have four in the North Cascades since we‘re fairly isolated. Rainier is fighting

hellhounds and have seven or eight.‖

Hellhounds. Not gonna visit that subject right now. As she studied Alec, her mouth

tightened. She‘d already known, there in Helen‘s house. The blood on him hadn‘t come from

hunting any deer. She‘d recognized that soul-weary look; she‘d seen it in her own mirror. ―You

killed the feral, didn‘t you?‖

He nodded.

That‘s why Helen had thanked him. ―So the attacker is a shifter who went crazy. And you

can‘t...uh, treat them or something?‖

―No. There‘s no return once the door is shut.‖

―Door?‖

―At the cabin, we told you about a portal in your mind—the one you open to trawsfur.‖ In

the lantern light, his eyes shone the green of deep forest.

―Well‖—she smiled in relief—―there‘s no door in my head.‖