Hour of the Lion, Cherise Sinclair [good story books to read TXT] 📗

"She said that?" Alec asked, the question escaping before he thought.

"Oh, yes, that very night." Wells grimaced. "In the same conversation where she made me give my word. I vowed to—" he shifted to an obvious quote, " „— never ever, reveal, by any means whatsoever, anything about the shifters or anything that could lead to the shifters."”

Calum raised his eyebrows. "She threatened you?"

"Worse. She cried."

"Ah." Calum sighed. "She might as well cut your heart out with that knife of hers; it would hurt less."

Wells nodded, his eyes on the far wall. "I‘ve never broken my word in my life, and at my age, I‘m not about to start. Your people have nothing to fear from me."

"Or anyone else?" Calum asked.

"At the moment, there is no interest and no information about you that I can discover."

Wells moved his shoulders. "How long that might last is not up to me."

"Good enough," Alec said.

"I do have one remaining question," Calum said dryly. "Do you happen to know where we can find our lifemate?"

"No. I don‘t." Wells‘ face turned bleak. "I haven‘t been able to locate her either."

Chapter Twenty-eight

Her paws took her south, and the rest of her agreed with the destination. She wasn‘t sure exactly how long she‘d been in the forest now. The first week or so seemed a blur. Every time she‘d change back to human, all the pain would return, and she‘d simply kneel and cry like some abandoned baby.

But her grief had slowly eased, and now she‘d shift to human during the day, sit in the sun, and think. Over the days, she worked through her choices.

She had a real tactical problem—how to keep the Daonain from killing her—that couldn‘t be solved until she answered the tougher question: Go back or not?

Oh, tough decision. She was a damned brave soldier. Yeah, shoot her to pieces, even kill her? No problem. Walk into a firefight? You bet.

But risk her heart? Fuck that. Talk about a scaredy-cat. Like a real coward, she hadn‘t even waited for the battle to start. Hell, she had run at the first artillery fire. But soldiers had been known to desert the field of battle, and then manage to get control of themselves. To courageously return to the fight.

Could she?

The safest choice was to stay away. Live as an outlaw in the forests, or stay in the human world and hide her animal half. She could manage. Wells would help, even move her to a far-away country if needed. She‘d lived undercover for years. Nothing new.

Or she could return. So, so much scarier. The physical risk: she could die, and —even worse—Alec or Calum might be the ones who killed her. Yeah, ugly outcome. But death was nothing new.

What really scared her spitless was the thought of fighting for the life—the love—she wanted. Of opening herself up to being hurt emotionally. Because—she took a hard breath—

those two men could hurt her worse than even dying.

If it had been someone besides Calum and Alec in that restaurant, would she have run when Wells made her look like a traitor? Hell no.

If it hadn‘t been her lovers treating her like the bad guy in the farmhouse, would she have given up so easily? Or would she have told Wells to leave and stayed to battle it out?

With anyone else, she‘d beat the crap out of them if they judged her without giving her a chance to speak. No matter how fucking overwhelming the evidence was. But because it was Alec and Calum, she‘d caved, making herself look all the more guilty.

Why?

Because she didn‘t believe she deserved their love. Or the life they wanted to give her. Her stupid little subconscious had decided that no one could really love her enough to listen and work things out. After all, they must know how unworthy she was, how damaged.

Her subconscious needed to get its ass kicked.

But it had taken a while to see the idiocy of her behavior and then to admit that Alec and Calum really did love her. She hadn‘t put on an act. They knew her well. Maybe not her whole background, but definitely her personality, flaws and all. They loved all of her as she did them.

And she wanted them—everything—back again.

So she‘d headed south. Best case scenario: they‘d let her explain. They‘d understand—and maybe even apologize for jumping to conclusions—and take her home. She‘d love them and Jamie and…her chest went tight…and someday, might perhaps have a baby with them. Or a litter.

Worst case: she‘d die.

She‘d come up with a plan: walk her ass into the center of Cold Creek, create a scene—

considering she‘d lack any clothing, that shouldn‘t be difficult—and demand to talk with Calum and Alec. They couldn‘t kill a naked woman in front of the town, not when a whole bunch of the spectators would be human.

And she‘d stand there and—quietly—tell them everything. What she had and hadn‘t done, how she hadn‘t known what to do, about how Wells had given his word and that she‘d kill him personally if he broke it. Not that he ever would, but they couldn‘t know that. She‘d promise to give them a kazillion babies if that‘s what they wanted. She‘d beg forgiveness.

If they were fair—since they were men, fair wasn‘t a foregone conclusion—they‘d acknowledge making a few mistakes themselves. She growled as she loped through the forest.

Yeah, they could have given her a chance to explain, and worked with her on the Wells problem.

But nooo, just had to jump to conclusions. Sure, she‘d punched their paranoid hide-from-the-government hot button, but still.

So walk right into the firing zone, make herself a target, and hope for the best. One major invitation-to-disaster plan. But hey, even Wells might have trouble figuring a way out of this mess.

She leaped over a fallen log, scented a rabbit and paused, then continued. She was getting closer, she knew it. Sometime last night, a feeling had arisen in