The Lycan Hunter (The Gardinian World Series) (9 page)

If it wasn
’
t for his missing Hunter, he could forgo trying to get
anything from the miniature temptation and send her back to her cabin
tonight. Unfortunately, Torin – his Hunter ally – was M.I.A..

The incident regarding the Lycan that had brought Torin to town
had gotten out of hand, because a few of the Oconee males demanded
challenges for leadership. They made it clear that addressing the rumors
of the Feral could wait. All Lycans knew that when the Hunters became
involved it would no longer be a simple matter of killing the feral
Lycan and returning to life as it was.

Hunters didn’t relegate their bullets to Rogues and Ferals. Rogue
and Feral Lycans were just the most important targets to Hunters, since
they were the most likely to expose the existence of both the Lycans
and Hunters to humans.

Kyran beat his challengers as swiftly as possible, allowing them to keep their miserable lives, but part of him regretted that decision.

His attention jerked back to the monitor. The Hunter had tried to get up from the bed and nearly fell in the process.

“Riveting, isn’t it?”

“Shit!” Kyran turned around to face Ronan. “When did you get
in here?”

“A minute ago. You were glaring at the wall muttering something
about going to kill them. I figured it was a safe bet that I should keep quiet.”

Kyran just nodded and turned back to the monitor. “I need to take
her something to eat, but I need to examine her first.”

Ronan motioned to an old fashioned doctor’s bag on the edge of his desk.

“The
pressure cuff
is inside along with
anythin
g else you
should
need
.”

“Thanks.”

“I have food, too. Just some soup, because I don’t know how fast they heal.”

K
yran nodded. “So far she is healing at an accelerated rate, nothing
like we do, but she shouldn’t be down too long.”

They spoke a few more minutes regarding the pack and the changes
happening to their home near the Blue Ridge Mountains before Kyran
left to go see the Hunter he refused to call by name.

Distance, even something as minute as avoiding names, needed
to be maintained at all cost. If it wasn’t, things were liable to happen. Things that they would both regret.

THE DOOR SLID OPEN,
and her wolf –
wait, her what? –
entered the room carrying a tray with a thermos, a glass, and a black doctor
’
s bag.

“How are you doing, Hunter?”

“Alexis.”

He smirked at her. “That’s not my name. Not even close.”

Alexis sighed and rubbed her temples.
“What do you want, wolf?”

“I have to do a quick examination, and then you can eat.”

“I'm not hungry.”

“Too bad. You’ll eat even if I have to feed you myself.”

That shouldn’t have appealed to her, but it did.

She'd never been taken care of the way the Lycan was willing to
do. No injury had been too great – and there had been many – to warrant
her parents doing anything beyond tossing a disdainful nod in her
direction. She wanted more…Of what she didn’t exactly know. Well,
maybe she did, but getting what she wanted could very well cause more
problems than it would solve. A complication that neither of them
needed. Then again, who would know if something happened? It wasn
’
t
like she would tell.

The wolf waved his hand in front of her face.

“Hunter, did you hear me?”

“What? What did you say?”

“Relax your arm.” He sat on the edge of the bed and checked her vitals.

In the silence that spanned, she focused on his face. Closer inspection
showed that the perfection she
’
d seen earlier was marred with tiny
scars. One cut through his eyebrow and another close to his left eye. She wanted to ask him how he got them, but his entire demeanor repressed
the urge.

She jumped when his warm hands lifted the gown she wore and
began palpating her stomach. He then checked the red ridge that marked
the center of her marred torso. She caught his gaze as he glanced up from examining the scar that ran up her left side – a parting gift from
her earlier years when she hunted the lion-form Lycans known as
Alesers. He made no comment about the scar, instead returning his
attention to her newest wound by placing a new bandage on it before
he rose from the bed.

“You should be ready to go home in two days, maybe less. Can Hunters get infections?”

“Yes.”

The wolf reached into his bag and pulled out an amber bottle.

“Here.” He handed her a large white pill. “It’s an antibiotic. Take
it after you eat. The wound looks good, so it
’
s more preventative than
anything.”

“Thanks.”

He put up all his supplies and turned back to her. “Tonight you
will have soup and some crackers.”

“Ugh.”

He laughed. “I know. You can try and eat real food tomorrow.”

“Fine.”

“Now,” he said as he let his hands rest on his hips. It was a very doctor-like pose. “Am I going to have to feed you or are you going to be a big girl and do it yourself?”

She smiled. “Shut up, and get the food.”

He brought over the tray, one of the nicer ones with legs, so she
didn
’
t have to worry about balancing hot soup on her lap. She watched
as he poured her soup. Part of her wanted to protest, as she had always
been forced to do for herself, but the woman who never felt like she
mattered relished being taken care of. No one, not even her dead brother
, had ever taken care of her when she’d been injured. Tough love was an understatement of her childhood reality.

“Can I ask you a question?”

He nodded as he grabbed a bottle of water from the mini fridge
and poured it into a glass.

“Why are all Lycans so…pretty?”

He looked at her. “What do you mean?”

“You
’
re kidding, right? Most Lycans that I have encountered would
make Greek gods jealous.”

“I seriously doubt that.”

“Then you don’t see yourself the way the rest of the world does. If the seven deadly sins had advertisements, Lycans would be lust.”

The wolf snorted. “Though we notice beauty, Lycans judge an
individual on their character, not their physical attributes. Physical
beauty in people is something easily disregarded, because it adds
nothing to their strength of character.”

“So if I said you – as well as Ronan – are beautiful, it wouldn
’
t
matter?”

He arched an eyebrow at her. “First, no, it wouldn’t, because it’s shallow, and as I said, being beautiful means nothing to us. Second, I highly doubt you feel that way.”

“I’m not blind,” she said with an indignant snort. “I think that I
can appreciate beauty when I see it.”

The wolf began to growl but cut it off with a deep inhale and a long,
slow exhale. “You can find beauty in something you would shoot on sight? How does that work?”

Alexis opened her mouth to reply and closed it. She filtered through
her thoughts, but every one of them only confirmed what he likely
thought of her.

“That
’
s what I thought,” he said with a dismissive wave. “Eat. I
will be back later.”

When the wolf was gone, she stared at the waves of heat rising
from the soup. She felt like an arsonist who called the Sistine Chapel a masterpiece then proceeded to burn it to the ground.

Nothing she could say would change how she had intended to pull
the trigger on him in the field earlier or how she had begun every
hunt in the past remarking on the beauty that she readily erased from
the world.

Rogues were one thing, but…

She let the thought hang where it was. If she thought too hard,
focused too much on it, she might become a very ineffective Hunter. Ineffective Hunters were dealt with swiftly in her society. She should
know since she had recently participated in cleaning up the remnants
of a swift punishment.

Kyran entered his room to find Ronan at his desk eating popcorn and watching the feed from the Hunter’s room.

“What are you doing here?”

Ronan glanced away from the screen. “Watching a train wreck.”

Kyran sighed and sat down in a chair near his bed. “What do you
mean?”

Ronan spun the chair around and watched him for a minute. “You
want her, don’t you?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

“Am I that transparent to you?” He studied his brother, knowing that not much escaped Ronan’s notice.

Ronan laughed.
“At the moment, yes. But if it makes you feel better
, I can tell you aren’t happy about it.”

“
If only things weren
’
t so complicated, I
’
d…” he whispered, letting
the last part drop off.

“How complicated is sex?”

“If sex was all I wanted, my life would be easier.” He paused and
conjured the words that clawed their way out of his mouth. “I think I
See her.”

“Think?”

“Yeah, but that’s impossible, right?”

“I’ve never heard of it happening, but…” Ronan’s words trailed off. “Shit.”

“I know, but she is healing up fast. She
’
ll be gone in two days,
maybe less. We’ll see.”

In the silence that sprung between them, Kyran thought of the
implications of her leaving. Her absence would likely lead to problems
,
but nothing he could do for her beyond healing her injuries and sending
her away would pacify the displeasure among his pack.

Ronan broke the silence first with a distracted shrug.

“Maybe you could try finding some semi-complicated sex in the meantime.”

Kyran laughed. Generally, Lycans didn
’
t engage in casual sex
because most saved themselves for their eventual marriages. Though
he wasn’t a virgin, he wouldn
’
t risk the potential misunderstanding
that sex might cause.

“Or you could try killing something,” a soft, feminine voice said.

Kyran and Ronan turned to the door to find their mother
’
s slender
frame filling the doorway. She could enter and move freely throughout
his compound, but only because she was his mother, and she had no designs on fighting him for his pack.

Her stride was graceful despite the small limp she had, courtesy of
a recent and brutal attack on her pack. The Alpha male who wished to
take over her region had paid for it with his life.

“What are you doing here?” Kyran asked.

“Ronan didn’t tell you that I was in town?”

“Yes, he did, but he never told me why.”

Erma sat in one of the overstuffed chairs opposite Kyran. “There
are rumors of another potential takeover. I can’t risk entering another
contest without aid.”

In takeovers – especially ones where patriarchal packs took over
matriarchal packs – the overtaken pack was often relegated to nothing
more than slaves, at least until they conformed under the new leadership.

If Erma
’
s pack was taken over by males, the females who were
dominant enough to be an issue would be killed off while the rest
would be forced into a Harem.

Although Kyran had never lived in his mother
’
s pack, he was well
aware that should the Keowee pack be taken over, then the majority
of the pack would be killed. In the Lycan world, it was a barbaric
necessity. No one could rule a pack if those under them were in a
constant state of rebellion.

“Why are they targeting your pack?”

“They want the land.”

Kyran nodded. Land, room to roam freely, was coveted by Talas.
They liked to run in their animal form more so than other Lycan groups.

“Besides soldiers, what do you need?”

“Nothing, unless you would also consider a proposition from my
Tepinok,” she paused and gave each of them a pointed look. “She is a
few years from her Rut and seeks an arrangement like the one I had
with Arik.”

“I will see if one of the pack males is interested.”

“It has to be one of you.”

“Why?”

“She requires a male of like strength. While they are strong, the
regular warriors won’t work.”

“
I don’
t know anything about her, and you already know how
Ronan feels about mating.”

Erma called for her Tepinok. “This is Marcela,” she said when a tall,
lean but curvy female entered the room.

Her hair was dyed rose petal red and hung loosely around her
shoulders. Though she was in fact a warrior that Kyran wanted in a
mate, nothing about her spoke to him.