Let the Wild Out (12 page)

“You can’t,” Douglas said. “It isn’t safe.”

“That’s one of the things I’ve come to tell you. My people
are working on narrowing down who the threat is.” William sighed heavily. His
arms still tingled where she’d touched him. The beast in him wanted to demand
its turn. The man in him held the beast back. He repeated the information he’d
gotten from Magda about the possible attackers.

“I’m assuming the fairies have sent you bridal candidates?”
Douglas asked. William nodded that they indeed had. “Send them on to the
Vampire king with your apology. They will be willing and the offering will
appease Kristoff’s bloodlust and anger. He has a fiery temper, but he would not
hire assassins to do his dirty work. It’s a matter of pride with the vampires.
The goblin queen is always irked. It is when she is happy that you have to
worry. Do not send her the invite or you will have goblins crawling all over
your court until the end of time. They are harder to get rid of than an
infestation of spirits.”

“And the witches?” Rachel asked, her face a little pale.

“Could be a problem. Julianne and Bella, known generally as
the ‘cursed sisters’, have a thing for causing royal trouble. I don’t see them
hiring assassins, but it’s not beyond the realm of possibilities. Anyway, I’m
expecting a call from my people. I’ll have them check into it. The northern
factions have festival grounds about seventy-five miles from my home.”

“I think I need to go lie down.” Rachel slowly moved down
the hall.

“Rachel?” William asked, not liking the worried look on her
face.

“I’m just feeling a little out of it. I just found out that
not only are there fairies and vampires, but goblins and witches. I’m assuming
they’re magical witches and not, well…”

“Yes, they do practice the old magic,” Douglas answered.

“I guess I spent so much time trying not to act like a
shifter, I never stopped to think about what other different things might be
out there.” Rachel ran her hands through her hair. “So this is really
happening. I’m stuck here with a target pasted to my forehead.”

“No harm will come to you,” William said.

“We promise,” Douglas affirmed.

“Until you find a wife. I can’t imagine the new chieftess
will take kindly to your protecting a mistress,” she said, slowly backing from
them. “I’m sorry. I need some time alone.”

“Don’t leave the manor,” Douglas said. The words sounded more
like an order than a request. Though, to William, much of what Douglas said had
a kind of condescension to it, a tone born of his rank and privilege.

Rachel gave a quick salute before turning the corner. William
listened to her footsteps. When they faded, he asked, “When should we tell her?
I don’t want to wait.”

“I don’t think she’s ready to be asked. She seems fairly
certain we will choose another.” Douglas frowned. “When I tried to take her to
breakfast, she insisted we hide out instead. I don’t think she’s ready for the
attention that such a position will bring. I don’t think she’s ready to admit
to our kind that she’s one of us. I don’t want the idea of a future with us to
chase her away.”

“A shifter who doesn’t want to be a shifter,” William said,
“and with the power she possesses.”

“Perhaps your ball is a good idea. We will introduce her to
the court.” Douglas leaned over to pick up the pins. “As our future queen,
she’ll need to get used to the limelight.”

Rachel stopped, tilting her head to the side. By the sound
of the male voices, it was clear they didn’t realize how good her hearing was.

As our future queen, she’ll need to get
used to the limelight.

Did she hear that correctly? Future queen? From living a
private life she loved, to becoming the single, most powerful female shifter on
the planet?

A shifter who doesn’t want to be a
shifter and with the power she possesses.

They wanted her because of her powers. Didn’t Elvie warn her
never to tell her secret? Then again, they were talking about marrying her, not
turning her into an experiment.

“
Marriage
?” she whispered, as the thought fully hit
her. Maybe an experiment would be better than that.

She took a deep breath. They both wanted to marry her. Two
husbands. Two
chief
husbands. A small thrill worked through her at the
thought of spending her life with William and Douglas. She never expected to
want two men. But then reality came crashing around her. What would happen
after the fairytale was over? If the fire she felt inside her died? Or their
eyes wandered? Shifters generally mated to one person. How exactly did a three-person
marriage work for them? Would she bond to one and not the other? The idea of
hurting either man didn’t sit well with her. What would happen when the
honeymoon ended and she was trapped as some celebrity? Every move would be
examined, photographed, watched. She’d never be able to run completely free
again. Gone would be the wild dashes through the mountains. Could she take such
a leap? Could she give up her privacy and her life?

Her eyes wide, she looked around the empty hall. The
Elizabethan style was beautiful and old and reminded her of a museum. People
weren’t supposed to live in museums, at least not in real life—maybe in fiction
novels, or epic movies, or in historical dramas, but not real life.

She felt the people around her, filling the halls and rooms,
walking the gardens outside and running just beyond the fences. It was an
energy that pulsed, reminding her of her childhood when Elvie’s home was
surrounded by shifters. There was comfort in the sensation, but also a fear.

Everything was happening too fast. She hadn’t known these
men long. It was too soon to start thinking about marriage and forever. They
were just getting to know each other. They were just having fun. They couldn’t
really think to make her choose marriage right away, could they?

The reality of her situation came crashing in around her.
She was an American in Europe—without ID, without money, without a passport—with
an assassin looking to kill her. The few friends she had at work would not have
the means to help her out. It wasn’t like the US government would listen to a
busboy and waitress when it came to matters of citizenship and international travel.
If she went to the embassy, they would want to know how she managed to get
overseas. There was no record of her travel by commercial flights. The shifters
wouldn’t be happy with her if she exposed them for a ticket home.

Even so, the thick manor walls seemed to cave in on her and
she needed to get out. Hurrying through the hall, she wasn’t sure where she was
going. She needed to think. She rushed past antique paintings and gilded
mirrors. Finally, feeling a slight breeze, she followed it to the source—a
window at the end of a long hall. Making her way to it, she pushed it open and
jumped down to the cobblestone below. A perfectly manicured garden made it easy
to hide as she ducked behind long stretches of shrubbery and trees. She smelled
the woods before she saw them. The dense tree line called to her and she ran,
letting the power of the shift come over her limbs. Her clothes fell away as
she hit the ground on all fours. Freedom.

William growled in
frustration. The moment Magda had informed him of Rachel’s run in the private
forest, he’d gone after her. Though part of his property, the forest wasn’t
exactly the most protected. As shifters, they tended to feel a sense of
security when it came to intruders. Though, to be fair, normally there wasn’t
an assassin after them.

He dropped his clothing
outside the manor’s door and hit the ground running, well aware that the eyes
of his court might be on him. He didn’t care. He needed to find Rachel. This
wasn’t the American wild where she grew up, where shifters were more relaxed
and tended to mind their own business. Here, there were certain expected
behaviors, and it was already clear no one had bothered to school Rachel on
just what those etiquettes were. One was that unattached ladies didn’t run the
forest alone—unless they were looking to get caught.

Okay, so that rule was
antiquated, but when it came to his future bride, he found it fairly sound. If
he had his way, she’d be put under lock and key and constant supervision.

So that was extreme. He
knew it and still he felt the desire to do it.

The forest became a blur as
he headed towards the main path. He had run through these woods thousands of
times and could navigate the darkening trails with ease. The familiar smells
filled him, guiding him as easily as his sight. Rachel’s scent was faint, almost
buried beneath the other more powerful ones.

His heart beat a steady
rhythm in his chest, keeping time with his drumming feet. Her scent became
stronger, driving him on. He turned west, heading deeper into the trees. Then,
another smell wafted over him like a death omen. It was the acrid scent of
blood, freshly spilt.

The beast within him raged,
becoming mindless as he surged forward, leaping over fallen trunks as he cut
through the denser trees. He became aware of someone following him and assumed
Magda told Douglas what had happened. No doubt the other chief smelled the
blood as well and came to investigate.

His feet slid to a stop as
the scent grew stronger. The sound of it dripped in a steady rhythm on the
leafy ground. He narrowed his eyes, piercing the darkened forest with his shifted
gaze. Then he saw her. Rachel was bound to a tree in human form. Blood ran down
her arm from a deep gash, trailing crimson on her naked flesh as it flowed to
the ground. Dazed eyes found his, her lids heavy. She moaned against a gag in
her mouth, the incoherent syllables more of an expression of pain than a call
for help.

His fur stood on end as he
slowed his approach. Scanning the forest, he didn’t detect movement in the
trees. What was this? A warning?

Rachel moaned again and his
attention focused on her. He neared her and extended a paw. The rope cord loosened
when he hooked his foot into a loop and pulled.

The sound of footsteps
became louder. William turned, intent on acknowledging Douglas. Only then did
he notice the forest smell was off. It wasn’t Douglas who came after him. He’d
been so focused on Rachel that he didn’t stop to think things out completely. A
naked woman stood, chest heaving, black hair tousled around her shoulders, dark
eyes filled with victory. She held a gun pointed at his head.

“Hello, chief,” she said,
smiling. “Don’t bother standing up. You’ll do just fine like that.”

William growled, but there
was nothing he could do. She pulled the trigger. White-hot fire pierced his
neck, and though he tried to stay on his feet, he felt his legs giving out. He
fell hard on the ground, striking his head against the earth seconds before his
world turned black.

 
“What do you mean they’re gone?” Douglas
demanded. His eyes narrowed on Magda. His clan had dealt with her often over
the years and, though she was highly capable at her job as the chief’s
glorified secretary, she was an elitist pain in their ass. For some reason,
she’d gotten it in her head that her clan was superior in all things. Such
egotism wasn’t unusual with hot-blooded shifters. Daring to show it so openly
to the opposing chief was.

“My chief went after the
American in the forest. She ran away from the manor without an escort.” Magda’s
expression gave nothing away, but Douglas read the irritation clearly in her
eyes. “That was two hours ago. I assumed they were,” she paused, “otherwise
engaged in the woods. But he has yet to come back. I thought I should inform
you that I have sent the guards in to investigate the situation and have
increased the security on the grounds.”

“Two hours?” Douglas
repeated, barely hearing the rest. “Why was I not informed before now?”

“I do not work for you, Duncanis.”
Magda’s jaw snapped shut and she refused to look him in the eye. “It was not my
duty to report on my chief to you.”

“You should have told me.
You know what this woman means. I’m going after them.”

His heart beat hard inside
his chest, each painful thump an echo of his worry.

“We have—” she began.

“I am going after them!” He
didn’t wait for her to respond as he brushed past her towards the front door.
He hurried down the steps to the cobblestone walkway leading around the side of
the house. Not caring what kind of scene he made, he tore at his clothes, ripping
them from his body as he made his way over the thick lawn. He leapt, shifting
midair before running into the forest on all fours. He darted through the trees
in a haphazard pattern as he tried to pick up Rachel’s scent. Each second
caused his stomach to knot all the more. He growled, hoping someone would hear
him, answer him. It wasn’t to be. Minutes later he found a trace of her in the
blood-tinged ground.

Shifting, he stood naked in
the forest—his body tense, his heart pounding, his temple throbbing. He was too
late. William and Rachel were gone.

Rachel blinked, her lids
heavy. Her head rolled back and forth, pressing into the hard concrete wall
that supported her head. When she lifted her arms, they felt as if they were
filled with liquid steel and not blood. Her thoughts were suspended between
awake and sleep, making it hard to concentrate. Whatever St. Joan had given her
had knocked her out like a thousand milligrams of the strongest prescription
sedative.