Sagittarius Read online

  Black and white crowded my view as the other wolf closed in. The pale patch of fur was a lightning strike down his middle that drifted over his head and down his chest. He was just as big as the bastard next to him and I was willing to bet every bit as fucking dumb.

  He turned his head, silver eyes bored into mine with cruel cunning—maybe not so dumb after all.

  “Steel and Ryder will see you across the border. Go back home Guardians, you're not welcome here.”

  He turned away from me, giving me his back for the second time tonight. I imagined tearing out that fucking spine, then maybe the flesh might mirror the man—weak, fucking spineless. The image took space within my mind. Fingers slick with blood, the hot, heady scent consumed me. I closed my eyes and swayed, lost for a second before I smothered the need.

  Let me out, Lucas. Let me out and I’ll show them how weak their words are.

  The beast roiled under my skin, aching for just one taste, one scream…one beg for mercy.

  “We are the Guardians.” I opened my eyes and growled, finding every fucking movement in the shadows. “We protect those who come to us. We may've fallen short over the years, but I'm telling each and every one of you. If you come to us, we will give you safety. We live north of here in the mountain above the town of Nyx. The Bloodstone pack has sought safety with us. They'll take anyone—man, woman, child, and the elderly. They will take you too.”

  Haruin skirted the tree line, not giving us another second more of his time, and disappeared into the green. I stared at the young shifter. He drew in hard breaths while he stared at my brother.

  “You know who we are?” Isaiah growled.

  The kid nodded.

  “You know what happens when someone lies to us, tells us our kin is safe when they aren’t?”

  He shook his head.

  Isaiah leaned in and snarled. “Xael comes for you in your sleep.”

  2

  Lucas

  “Lucas.” Marcus grasped my shoulder and wrenched me against his chest.

  He looked tired, beaten. Somewhere in the last few days that haunted look had returned.

  I gripped his arm and scanned the hall. “The baby…she’s alive?”

  “She’s alive.” He gave a nod and then swallowed hard. “But weak. Doc’s running tests. Says she'll be back to full health in no time. It can’t come quick enough for Zadoc. You missed one helluva fight boys…and we’ve got a lot to talk about.”

  “Yes.” Isaiah growled as the faint echo of voices grew louder. “We do.”

  The Bloodletter shimmered, fire on black, rising up to lash his gaze. “Trouble?”

  “Not yet.” I snapped and shook my head. But it’s coming…

  Unspoken words hung in the air between us. I ground my jaw until the muscles bulged. Haruin's threats stayed with me until we passed the border. Even in the safety of my home his words breathed life into fear.

  The Phantom pack had morphed from runts and strays to an unmerciful force. One who believed women had a place in the pack on their backs or on their knees.

  And to them, Abrial, the new alpha of the Bloodstone pack, was a threat.

  “I want to hear all about it.” Darkness slipped into my brother's voice. I could feel that power, that rage...like it was my own. “Family first, then we talk. Bastian and North beat you by an hour, but something’s up with the kid. He won’t settle, acting strange.”

  He glanced to the doorway, and then shrugged. “Maybe you can talk to him, Lucas. God knows I’ve tried.”

  I gave a slow shake of my head and swallowed a bark of laughter. “You want me to try? Sure...Mr. fucking tactful, right here.”

  “Wait,” he snarled and then turned giving me a look of concern. “Be you, but the nicer version of you...not the normal one.”

  Are. You. Shitting. Me?

  The words hovered on the end of my tongue. But it was the gaunt fucking circles under his eyes that smothered them. I nodded. “Right, the nice version. All butterflies and fucking rainbows. Got it.”

  He smiled, and for a second the spark of that fighter shone through. We were too much alike in some ways—all beast and brawn. But the beast in Marcus served a purpose, he was good, hard but good. Unlike the beast inside me.

  A shrill cry cut through the air and pierced my ears. I winced at the sound as Marcus gave me a weak smile and shoved my shoulder. “Go, they’re waiting for you.”

  I would've taken shit from my brother all day to see that smile.

  All. Fucking. Day.

  Isaiah skirted around us to surge ahead. My pulse sped, driving the need to see this miracle—this Dragon child. She was my brother's, and yet there was a part of me that felt this...stirring in my soul.

  Twelve had somehow become thirteen and only the Goddess above knew why.

  Wolves gathered at the edges of the living room staring at the small crowd with wide smiles and bright eyes. One of women turned and murmured. “She’s beautiful, Guardian.”

  My steps stuttered and then stilled. Here was everything Haruin hated…unity, respect—love. We were a family. We were a pack. Somehow, amongst losing Zadoc and gaining the Bloodstone wolves, we’d already won.

  All we had to do now was hold onto what we had.

  The tiny whoop...whoop...whoop of wings dragged my gaze to the middle of the room. Isaiah crammed in, leaning over the others before he turned to me. “She's perfect. Come see.”

  The subtle balance of power had changed in this house. I could feel the darkness closing in, morphing into something else—something that whispered to the beast inside.

  Heartbeats collided. Stars aligned.

  Evander held out a hand and stepped backwards, drawing me closer.

  The tip of a black wing flashed between the crowd.

  She was here. She was finally here.

  In the endless dark of my mind a star glimmered, faint at first, growing brighter with each step.

  “Would you like to hold her?”

  I flinched at the sound and caught Joslyn's gaze. Gunny stepped away, followed by Michael, and then the Doc. He reached for Angel, finding the soft swell of the doctor’s back.

  Michael and the Doc? When did that happen?

  “Lucas,” he murmured finding the confusion in my face.

  His fingers spread against her body, lingering long enough to make me still. But the tips of black wings grew from the corner of my eye, fanning out to steal my focus.

  Lights bounced off glistening midnight scales. I stared at this black bundle curled against the crook of her mother’s arms. For a second she looked too real, too honest. Here was my kin, my flesh and blood, looking so much like the Wretched.

  Momentum drew me closer. But it wasn’t my feet that set the pace.

  My heart skipped, stuttered and raced ahead as the rest of my family moved away.

  Perfect eyes widened as I neared. Long talons dug into soft flesh. Beads of blood welled under her claws. I stared at the trail, and then lifted my gaze to this human woman. “Is she hurting you?”

  “Yes,” Joslyn whispered but never moved. “But I need it, just for a little while.”

  A tempest storm brewed in Joslyn's eyes. Stars sparked where fear and love collided. This was a mother’s pain. One she'd gladly take. One she'd proudly wear.

  I reached to slide my knuckles against midnight scales. “May I hold her?”

  There was no panic, no fear. Joslyn slid one hand under her chest, and gripped under her daughter’s arm. Spikes flared along the notches of the Dragon's spine. A panicked cry ripped free, until the young mother murmured. “No need to be afraid. This is Lucas, your uncle. You know him, yes you do…it’s his room you live in.”

  I raised my brow. I was barely gone a week and already someone had moved in and staked a claim. Rows of tiny fangs shone as she panted. Her squeal found flight, tearing through my head like a razor.

  It was the Archer who answered, shaking his mane of tines and let out a low, searching growl that filled the
darkness of my mind.

  She blinked, quietened, raised those beautiful big dark eyes and gnashed her teeth. She was onyx armor, dark and deadly with a voice made for beauty and battle cries. All of a sudden I couldn't have cared less about my space. I couldn’t have cared less about anything at all.

  Power dripped from her talons, like the tiny splatter of her mother's blood. But this energy was darker…tainted, leaving behind a bitter taste in my mouth. “What's wrong with her?”

  “Nothing,” Joslyn snapped. “She’s tired, weak, that's all.”

  This was the second time someone said those words to me.

  And the second time I knew they were a lie.

  I forced a smile, and tried to find the truth. The young mother stared at the ground, and then the wall until the silence grew fangs of its own. The little Dragon barely made a mewl as I held out my hands. “I think she needs her Mom.”

  This happy, perfect facade shattered. Joslyn's hands shook as she grasped her daughter and pulled away.

  I'm sorry.

  The words stuck in my throat as I dropped my gaze to the thick, crusted wounds that ran down her neck. It'd been a day since they found her. A day of food, or sleep, even a weak shifter would've healed in that time.

  My fingers trembled as I reached for her scales. Lies surrounded me, she’s fine...just weak...there's nothing wrong...we're all okay...we'll get through this...

  A shudder raced, stealing the warmth from my soul. What had they done to her in that mountain?

  “Lucas,” Isaiah murmured, dragging my focus from the puncture wounds. His gaze narrowed. “Marcus is ready for us.”

  I dropped my hand and stepped away. Isaiah couldn't see what I saw, couldn't feel what I felt, but the Archer knew.

  The Archer could see it all.

  Every hurt. Every anguish.

  Lies to cover the pain. Lies to make themselves believe we were okay. That everything was okay, while the truth waited in the shadows, ready to blow down our house of cards.

  Victor watched me from the edge of the room. He motioned me forward with the jerk of his head as Bastian skirted the wolves from the corner of my eye.

  “Hey, kid.”

  He winced at the name and turned his head. Sweat glistened, beading across his brow, sticking his shirt against skin. He licked his lips and stared somewhere else. “What?”

  “You look like Hell, brother. What's going on?”

  He shifted from one foot to the other. “Nothing. I'm fine.”

  I grasped his arm, and underneath my hand he trembled. “You don't look fine. Talk to me. Tell me what's going on.”

  He wrenched his arm away and spat through his teeth. “Then don't look, Lucas. I'm not here for you to scrutinize and pick apart. Leave me the fuck alone.”

  He backed away with one slow step, stumbled to the left, caught his balance, and then turned. I looked past the burnt staircase and the singed wall to where Joslyn cradled her daughter. For a family of immortals death seemed to surrounded us.

  And it all came down to one person—one sick, twisted bitch—the Huntress.

  “You coming or what?”

  Bastian slipped between the crowd of wolves and disappeared. I turned to Isaiah and nodded, following the heavy tread of boots to the room at the end of the hall.

  “In here.”

  Victor opened his bedroom door and motioned us inside. The musty smell of sex and love greeted me. My kin crammed the corners of this room, hugging the bed, leaving room in the center where Marcus and Abrial stood.

  “And you really want me there, tonight of all nights?” Red curls danced as she shook her head. “It's a bad idea.”

  “We're not going there to celebrate,” Marcus growled. “We're there for a purpose. You think I can't protect you? You think I'd allow anything to happen?”

  There was doubt in her eyes as she answered. “Of course not.”

  My brother eased backwards. Dark eyes glinted like marble. “Then we attend. We all attend. You're the Alpha of the Bloodstone pack—my wolf pack. The Prince wants us there tonight. So we'll go, and we'll stand together.”

  The door clicked shut behind Isaiah, and all eyes turned, but it was the Bloodletter who stole the show. It was the Bloodletter who stifled the smell of lust with the sting of anger.

  Warped, husky words slipped from his lips as he turned. “Now, what happened out there and leave nothing out.”

  The door opened and closed behind me. I turned my head, catching Bastian hovering at the door. “Things aren't the same as we remember. The packs are bigger. Haruin is…” The word barbaric came to mind. I resisted the urge to glance to Abrial. “He won't tolerate a female alpha—not for long. He's coming...him and the other alphas. We're heading for a battle, Marcus. There's no doubt in my mind.”

  Marcus glanced to Abrial and then winced. “We're heading for a battle because they fear a damn woman?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “Because they've forgotten who they are. They're no better, no less. They've allowed themselves to crawl up this goddamn food chain and place themselves as the apex predator.”

  Disgust curled his lip and flared his nostrils. He tore his gaze away finding the wall. “First Zadoc, now this? They’ve forgotten…they've all forgotten.”

  Rage surged as my family nodded.

  “They’ve forgotten who we are, and what we’ve done,” the Bloodletter growled. “They’ve forgotten how they came to be…”

  Terror took flight in his gaze as he glanced at Xael, and then to me. “They’ve forgotten how close...how damn close they came to not existing at all. We did this, to ourselves. We allowed them to forget.”

  Words of hate circled like the first breath of a tempest storm. “It’s time we made them remember.”

  Silence swallowed the space.

  Those words echoed like a forgotten war cry.

  “And you really think this...meeting will do that?” Victor countered. “We don't know these Vampires, Marcus. They could be using us. It could be a goddamn trap for all we know.”

  He’s right. Listen to him. I worked an ache in my shoulder as the Archer's voice echoed through. Even if you won’t fucking listen to me.

  Marcus nodded and doubt flared in this dark eyes. “Could be. But right now it’s a plan. They have information we need and it’s all we’ve got. If there’s a way to find this fucking bitch, I’m going to take it.” He glanced around the room, holding every gaze for a second before moving on. “It’s time we took our rightful place, protecting, fighting. I’m tired of sitting here waiting for this bitch to come. I want blood. I want to make a new fable, a new fucking story for women to whisper to their children.”

  Death sparkled in Xael's eyes.

  Dark, feral words slipped from Marcus's lips. This wasn't the brother speaking now—this was the Bloodletter. He lifted a clenched fist into the air, red scales consumed pink skin. “I want them to know what happens when they touch my family. I want them to feel pain they've never felt before. Nothing changes if we keep playing it safe...I know that now. Look at us, look at what we've become. This isn't living. This isn't surviving. This is hiding. This is cowering like some fucking worm, hoping no one finds us and says I know you. I see you. I want what you have. I want to destroy you—curse you. I want you to suffer…”

  In my head his war cry mingled with the forgotten cries of others.

  In another time and another place.

  A time where dark words like these were spoken and blood was spilled.

  I looked to Xael. A time where she needed me more than anything else.

  The sound of hooves echoed inside my head, drawing me away from the fire and rage to where the cold ice seeped.

  Now do you see? My Dragon growled. Silver flames flickered behind the wall. Now do you truly understand?

  We had to be careful...we had to be so fucking careful. Xael’s skin paled, fists clenched. She nodded, swept away by the tornado of hate in this room.

  “We’re fugi
tives in our own fucking home,” Marcus snarled. “We act like one—think like one. It’s time we turn the tables. It’s time we become the hunter, and not the hunted.”

  Blood trickled from the crease of Xael’s hand, slipping between the cracks to drip toward the floor.

  “We can’t win if we’re always protecting ourselves. We’ll never be safe, none of us. When it was the twelve of us it was easy. But we’re not twelve anymore.”

  Abrial flinched under his gaze.

  Marcus unfurled his fist and pointed to the wall. “That child out there needs us. We have to find this bitch. We have to put her down. I'll do it...I'll put her down myself if I have to. I'll put them all down.”

  Death nodded in every gaze.

  “We need information...we start by understanding what happened all those years ago. Then we’ll find our enemy—and defeat it. We’ll burn the whole fucking thing to the ground if we have to... Until the fire burns out.”

  Never in my life had those words felt so raw, and so true.

  I licked my lips and stole a glance around the room. “Someone want to clue me in with what's going on? What the hell happened all those years ago?”

  Marcus turned, finding Michael and took a step backward. “It’s all yours, brother.”

  An awkwardness passed between these two. One that hadn't been there when I left.

  Michael took a step, finding North, Bastian, Isaiah and then finally, me. “I found a letter dated five hundred years ago. One we now know was written by the King of the Shadistin Clan. His daughter had been captured by a dark mage and he was begging for our help.”

  I flinched. Dark mage? “The Huntress?”

  Michael nodded.

  This didn't make sense. “Five hundred years ago? That has to be wrong. A witch can live an extended life, we all knew that...but five hundred years?”

  Memories crowded in.

  Five hundred years.

  The date couldn't be a coincidence. Could it?

  Five hundred years ago we’d made a vow to stay within these walls to protect each other. It'd taken the other races a long damn time to beg for a truce. But if someone came to us. If they pleaded for our help, surely we would've listened...we would've tried.