Wild Hunts (23 page)

Eva released her newest captive’s snout and flicked her wrist toward the door. The entourage marched out of the chamber, leaving her to face her young sister alone. Lilia beamed, her arms folded over her naked breasts and her chin held high. She noted the gun holster still attached to Lilia’s arm and groaned. The girl would never learn the true meaning of victory if she continued to depend on that piece of shit weapon.

“How many of ours were lost?” Eva asked.

“We’re missing six. I’ll send a scout back to find the bodies.”

“How many of
them
were lost?”

“One dead. Two were left in bad shape. Another,” Lilia lifted the arm with her gun, “I left with a little momento.”

“Why didn’t you put him down?” Eva growled. She spun on her heel and stalked back to the table. Picking up an iron poker from the tableside, she stabbed it into a bucket filled with smoldering coals. Her fingers gripped the weapon tightly, her knuckles aching and her nails biting into her palm. “Kill them, you foolish runt. You’re supposed to
kill
them.”

“I’m really getting sick of you calling me a fool, Eva. If not for me, you wouldn’t have the bait.”

“If not for you, I’d have my fucking white on this table, a silver poker stabbing into
her
body until she bled out.” Eva lifted the poker and held it over the man’s face. His eyes widened and his breaths sped up. He tried to struggle, but ceased when the teeth on the inside of the collar dug deeper into his flesh. “Prep the wolf in the antechamber. I’ll be done here soon.”

“The antechamber? He’s only just arrived and you plan to use one of your more advanced torture devices on him?”

Eva pressed the glowing orange poker tip against the man’s cheek. He screamed out, flesh sizzling as it melted from bone. An acrid scent of burnt skin, blood, and hot iron filled her nostrils. The howl of agonizing pain stroked her spirit. Ahh, just what she loved.

“He’s brother to a white. I plan on giving him the royal treatment during his stay.” She flashed her sister a dark smile. “And I intend to have you present each step along the way.”

Chapter Twelve

Micah stumbled into the cabin. The door bounced off the wall and hit him in the shoulder. Fire burned along his hip and ribs. The bullet had torn plenty of tissue, muscle, and possibly an organ along the way. Healing was taking too damn long, the pain more of an inconvenience than debilitating.

Slade appeared before him. His eyes went wide before he wove around Micah’s back, supporting him under his arms.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Slade asked.

Micah followed his brother to the table where he fell into a chair with a sharp hiss. He clenched his teeth until the pain subsided enough to leave his vision clear of dark spots. During the short, agony-induced moment, his brother somehow grabbed a bottle of peroxide and a clean washcloth.

“Where’d you find that?” he asked.

“It’s been sitting on the counter since I first arrived. So”—Slade wet the cloth and pressed it to Micah’s slow-closing wound—“tell me what the hell happened.”

Micah fisted one hand on his bare leg while the claws on his other hand dug mercilessly into the wooden tabletop. That irritating fire spurred to life as the peroxide fizzed beneath the cloth. He could feel the sting of bubbles creep into his wound.

“Where’s Kasa?” he demanded. Slade arched a brow. He ignored his brother’s inquisitive glance. “Bro, she said there’s no silver, but I’m certain there was something on that fucking bullet to stall the healing.”

“Could’ve been a number of concoctions that would imitate silver without the, well, lethal effects had it spread. Enough evading my question. Kasa’s in the shower so tell me what happened.”

“Jordan and the pack went hunting, trotting right into a trap set by the rebels. My suspicions are that the rebels planned an ambush, but weren’t expecting us to practically walk—Damn it, Slade! Don’t go digging your finger into my side!—into them.” Micah growled, ripping the cloth from his brother’s hand and shoving his arm away. “You sick son of a bitch. I’ll do it.”

Slade reclined in the chair. No humor lit his eyes. Micah scowled, flashing him his fangs.

“Your teeth don’t frighten me. You wouldn’t dare use them on me,” Slade said, his voice dipping dangerously low.

“The way I’m feeling right now, I wouldn’t be so sure.”

Micah shifted his attention to the bathroom door when the shower shut off. His heart double-paced with the onset of anxiety. He still had to relay the bad news to Kasa. He only hoped she wouldn’t hate him for failing to keep Jordan safe.

The front door burst open again. Stunning cold air blasted him. Snowflakes flew into the tiny entranceway, swirling around the two hulking figures that stormed into the cabin.

“You lying, worthless piece of mutt trash!” Luke bellowed. He lunged for Micah. Slade jumped to his feet, grabbed Luke’s throat, and hauled him into the wall. Brushing aside the pain, Micah leaped forward, ripping Nicco off Slade’s back and whipping the man into the closed door. He dodged a wicked swipe of claws, another cheap shot to his dick, before his patience ran out. He had had enough for one night and knew this night was far from over.

Micah slammed his fist into Nicco’s face. Bone cracked. Blood flowed from his nostrils. A pitiful yelp escaped the man’s lips, his hands slapping over his nose and mouth. Micah growled, slamming him into the door for good measure before releasing his throat and stumbling back to the chair. His wolf panted, begging for something more satisfying. A broken nose would have to pacify him for the time being. Once Jordan was back, he’d be sure to teach these
wolves
a lesson about fucking with him on an off day.

Kasa emerged from the bathroom, towel barely tucked around her damp body, hair tousled. Her eyes went wide with shock then darkened with anger in a split second. She rushed over to Slade and shoved him away from Luke.

“What is going
on
here?” she yelled. Micah couldn’t help but admire the way her cheeks flushed. Well, until those blazing amber eyes turned on him. “Where the hell…oh God, Micah.”

All anger melted away. The entire cabin grew quiet aside from panting breaths and the electric hum of unspent energy between the men. Micah shrugged a shoulder as Kasa took Slade’s unoccupied chair and began tenderly poking around his bullet wound. He swallowed the ache in her presence, refusing to show her just how badly he hurt.

“You’re shot.” She grabbed the cloth and peroxide off the table. Micah wondered if she momentarily forgot the brawl that had frozen in position a short distance behind her. Three sets of eyes focused on them and it took every ounce of control to keep a smug smile from creeping over his mouth. After all, this night was a disaster, only to get worse. There was nothing smug, amusing, or even satisfying to be had until he delivered a safe, and alive, Jordan back to Kasa.

“It’ll heal soon,” Micah assured.

“That fucking furball should’ve never been included in our business! Your brother had it all set up and he comes in and botches it,” Luke snarled. Kasa’s shoulders stiffened slightly, but her attention remained focused on his wound. Slade growled, pulling back his lip from extended fangs. Luke mirrored his offensive stance. Neither moved to provoke a physical attack.

“From what I’ve gathered, your plan was botched from the beginning,” Slade insinuated.

“We had it under control until that
bastard
ran into the pack and decided to play hero.”

Kasa let out a deep breath. Her eyes lifted to his, then to the ceiling, before dropping to the cloth once again. Micah rested a hand over hers, stilling her from cleaning the wound.

“Listen, Luke’s pissed. Your brother was taken by the rebels. Luke was down for the count and Jordan told me to go to him. I was shot while trying to save him. By crippling me, your brother was left open,”
Micah said. He braced himself for her reaction, holding his breath. Kasa dabbed at his wound despite his hand over hers. She added more peroxide to the cloth, scrutinized the swollen flesh, then went back to work without a word.
His h
eart sank.
“Kasa,
I’m sorry—”

“He let your brother get shot. He’s with those fucking rabid dogs, and we’ve no idea where they are. Had he not busted in, Jordan and I could’ve handled them ourselves,” Luke finally spat out. His disgust was near palpable, lending an unfavorable flavor to the air. Micah shot Slade a sharp look when he caught his brother preparing to launch his right fist.

Nicco, on the other hand, continued to nurse his bloody nose. Every glance he made toward Micah, he didn’t forgo the daggers in his gaze. This time, Micah stared at the coward until he finally looked away.

“Kasa, did you hear me? Jordan’s been taken and that mutt you’re caring for is to blame. I should’ve ripped open his throat the other night when I had the—”

Micah didn’t know how he missed it, but Kasa was on her feet and in front of Luke before he could blink. A sharp crack resounded in the small cabin when she slapped Luke across the face.

“Shut your filthy trap, Luke. Micah, the one you refer to as ‘bastard,’ ‘mutt,’ ‘dog,’ and whatever else you feel you’re entitled to call him, happens to be
my mate,
and I sure as hell don’t appreciate the names.” She pressed up onto her toes, pointing a finger into his face. “
You
are my brother’s right hand man and I don’t see
you
taking blame for any of this. Where were
you
? What were
you
doing? Or was my mate saving
your
pathetic ass from being mauled? You had everything under control, ha!” She poked the tip of his nose. “You would’ve been dead had it not been for Micah. Jordan forwent his help to save you. Micah put himself between you and those wolves and this is the thanks you give him while you insult me along the way? He took a bullet for my brother just by being there and you’re telling me Jordan’s abduction was his fault?
How
?”

Micah couldn’t believe how much the man recoiled beneath her tirade. He smiled at the sight, pride swelling within him.
That’s my girl
.

Slade stood, shocked and speechless, eyes glued to Kasa. Nicco had shuffled deeper into the living room, putting distance between himself and their white wolf. Luke desperately looked around, seeking escape like a trapped pup.

Micah climbed to his feet for the second time since returning to the cabin. The pain in his side subsided, and he wondered if watching his mate stand up on his behalf had something to do with numbing his body. He came up behind Kasa and gently eased her away from Luke.

“Easy, love. The tension is riding dangerously high, but none of it’s worth a shit if we can’t focus it on finding your brother,”
Micah said quietly. The muscles in her shoulders loosened and she adjusted the towel around her chest. She continued to breathe hard, her pulse racing beneath his hands.
“I have plenty of choice words I’d love to share, but it’s wasted energy. Us fighting with each other does nothing to help Jordan.”

Damn, if he could only listen to his own advice without his wolf growling in protest. Choice words he had, and a few choice moves to go along with them.

He led Kasa back to his chair and eased her down. Her fingers fisted in her lap, keeping her obscenely short towel from flashing Luke or Nicco. Her toes curled, her eyes glowed a beautiful, intimidating degree of amber-white, and pink spread from her chest up to her hairline.

God, the woman was gorgeous all riled up.

Micah glanced back at Luke, who had gathered some dignity. He straightened his shoulders, puffing out his chest, and had the decency to look ashamed when his gaze turned toward Kasa.

“Don’t think for a moment I’m fool enough not to realize something happened to Jordan, especially when he didn’t come back here with Micah or you,” she said. Her tone had leveled, almost monotone, but her eyes fired the punch with far more effect. Luke jerked. Nicco frowned and lowered his head, blood seeping through his fingers. “How many of you went and how many of you survived?”