Silver-Steel Read online

  “Never mind, Dylan. He can see past it.”

  Dylan drew himself upright, not letting go of the glamour but allowing a cloak of rigid formality to surround him. Half-naked and wet, he managed to look regal.

  “Just wanted to thank you before leaving. I… Well, I know what would have happened if you hadn’t intervened. And you watched over me. I appreciate it.”

  Dylan nodded and glanced at Travis, and his gaze lingered on the borrowed clothing. Travis started to speak, but Blacque interrupted. “I’ll get your stuff back to you.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Blacque. I appreciate it.”

  “Just Blacque. And it’s no problem.”

  The two powerful men stared at each other, and the room felt smaller by the moment. Travis sighed. Neither was going to back down from their little power play. He walked to the door and held it open. Frigid air blasted into the room, and he winced.

  “Travis.”

  He looked to see Dylan sorting through the clothing in his small closet. When Dylan turned back, he held a scarf and gloves. The scarf was pale gray and most likely cashmere. The gloves were leather, lined with something warm and soft.

  “Thank you.” Damn… What should he do? Going in for a hug would most likely be unwelcome, not to mention uncomfortable with his brother looking on. Finally Blacque snorted and stepped out into the snow.

  “I’ll see you around, D.”

  The fae smiled but didn’t move toward Travis. He stood there looking aloof and calm and rather lonely. Forcing himself to move his feet, Travis left the room and carefully closed the door. He stepped into hip-deep snow, following the track Blacque had broken. When he reached Dylan’s car, he looked back. The fae was at the window. Slowly he lifted a hand.

  Travis smiled and waved, then turned to go home.

  More snow was on the way.

  “So am I in deep shit?”

  He was breathless as he climbed into Blacque’s old truck. He’d underestimated his condition; the walk had taken a lot of energy he just didn’t have.

  Blacque twisted the key and coaxed the engine to life. It coughed, stuttered, then roared. He grunted in satisfaction. “Gave her over to Jason before I came out. This weather’s hard on the old girl.” He turned on the heat and put the truck into gear, then eased out onto the icy road. The chains on the wheels clattered. “You aren’t in trouble. You’re an adult. It’s your right to go out drinking if you want.”

  Travis gazed out at trees rising from the side of the road. If things had been normal, he’d be out in the snow, tearing through the white stuff, chasing and having a good old time. Now he just wanted to go look out the window of his house, preferably with a blanket and a cup of hot chocolate.

  “Figured you’d say I had it coming.”

  Blacque sighed and coasted to a stop. Anxiously Travis looked at the highway. Damn good thing it was deserted.

  Blacque sat with his head bowed for a minute, maybe more. When he spoke, his voice was gentle. “Trav, you didn’t have it coming. No one deserves to be drugged. No one deserves to be beaten or raped.”

  “Dylan says they didn’t rape me. I barely remember what happened.”

  “You’re goddamn lucky he was there. And you didn’t deserve it. You didn’t have nothin’ coming.”

  He put the truck back in gear and started down the road again, glancing sidelong at Travis. His brother never said much, but what he did say counted. And he could say more with a look than most people could communicate in a speech.

  “No, Lukas, I’m not gay.”

  “I didn’t ask.” Blacque looked out the window at the road. It wasn’t that late, but the sun was going down, and the sky was growing heavy again. Even over the smell of old grease and vampire, Travis caught the scent of the storm. It had stranded him outside Arcada; now it was going to trap him inside. “You gave me a hard time when I came out.”

  “Yeah, well, that was just me being my normal asinine self, I guess.”

  “You do have your moments.” He smiled but was paying attention to his mirrors.

  “Lukas, can I ask you something personal?” His brother shrugged. “Does it bother you? About Michella and your baby?”

  “Their baby,” he corrected. “We signed an agreement. She and Angie have full parental rights. I won’t interfere.” His jaw flexed.

  “Maybe at the beginning that seemed cool. How do you feel about it now?”

  The look Blacque gave him told Travis all he needed to know. Blacque wasn’t happy. “I can’t forget some things. She challenged me, and it was a borderline cheat. And that shit she pulled with you and your mom…” He shook his head. “Dru says the baby is affected by that kind of stuff. Anger and fighting. Shifters don’t need to be exposed to anger that early in their lives.”

  For the first time Travis saw that he and Blacque weren’t that different. Blacque had made rash decisions he regretted. He’d fought his own war against alienation from the pack and his family. Travis bit his lip. “Do you want kids of your own?”

  “Didn’t think I did. Now? Maybe.” He glanced at Travis. “You?”

  “Hell, yeah. I’ve always wanted kids.” Problem was no woman wanted kids with him.

  “If you want it, it’ll happen.”

  “No, Blacque. It won’t. No female’s ever gonna want my kids. I’ll never mate.”

  Blacque grinned. Where’d he get off being amused by something like that?

  “God, I just confessed my deepest, darkest secret, and you smile!”

  “No, I caught you in a motel room with your deepest, darkest secret. As for the females, they lust after you like you’re a bitch in heat. When the time comes, it’ll happen.”

  “Gee, thanks. Comparing me to a bitch. Lovely analogy.” He knew damn well what he looked like. He was smaller than every other male in the pack. He could put on a fuckin’ dress and pass. No, thank you.

  “Okay, I put that badly. Like they’re in heat, and you’re the only male in town. Or like they’re a bunch of preteens, and you’re Justin—”

  “You will not go there. I don’t wear pink lip gloss.”

  “You don’t need it.”

  He growled, and Blacque laughed. The truck fishtailed, and they grew quiet, focusing on the road as they drew nearer to Arcada. He was superstitious: once they crossed the city limits, they were in a sanctuary. Arcada didn’t tolerate aggression. He always expected something horrific to happen just this side of the track.

  “Lukas, does it bother you that you’ll never have a mate?”

  His brother looked at him, and his expression was warm. Understanding. “Travis, I have Oliver.”

  “But he’s not your mate.”

  “Not the way our people mate. But we’ve got something better. And given that our father left his mate, I’d say the love Bleu and I share is a blessing.”

  “Dad was mated?” His belly flopped, and then he looked at his brother in amazement. “To your mom. He was mated to your mother! That’s why… Well, shit.” It had happened when Travis was a teen. Lukas and Drusilla came to live with Dane, and his father had been quiet and grim for such a long time afterward. That was about the time all the baby-making started—right around the time Lukas’s mother become so ill. He pulled his coat around his body, not so much cold as shaken by the revelation. They rode in silence for a few moments.

  “Hey, Trav?” Blacque’s voice was low and rough. Tense. Confused. He turned to look at his brother. Blacque was watching the rearview mirror. “Think you can manage to shift?”

  “Well, yeah. But—”

  “Get ready. I’m gonna shoot for the city limits, but I might not make it. If we have to stop, you get out and run—run hard.” He picked up his cell phone and quickly dialed a number, then tossed it on the seat. Travis twisted around to look behind the truck and saw nothing, just dark shadows under the trees. Inky stains that wove from tree to tree, dodging in and out of the light.

  Wolves.

  “Oh shit. Are they natural?” D
umb question; they wouldn’t be stalking the truck if they were. He looked out his window and counted three, maybe four wolves. Gently Blacque accelerated and drove with delicate skill through the snow.

  “Shit!” Travis jumped when a dark figure threw itself into the path of the truck, then bounced off the windshield. A shattered web marked the window where the wolf hit. He pulled at his clothing and watched in horror as another wolf bolted into the path of the truck and hit the driver’s side window. The truck rocked, and Blacque grunted, struggling to keep it under control. Travis struggled free of his jeans and boots, feeling the wolf ready to rise to the surface.

  “This isn’t right, Lukas. They’re hurting themselves slamming into us like that.”

  Blacque’s nostrils flared, and a moment later, Travis caught the scent of blood as it seeped into the cab. Shifter, yes. But wrong. The blood smelled sick. Tainted. Goose bumps ran down his shoulders and back.

  “We’re almost there.” Blacque’s face was calm but determined. “Less than a quarter mile.”

  The truck fishtailed as a heavy body landed in the bed. The wolf scrambled over the toolbox, then slammed into the back window.

  “Blacque, look out!” A powerful blow took the slider window out, and a bleeding, frantic wolf came through. Lukas struggled with the truck while Travis captured the wolf’s head and easily snapped its neck. He didn’t bother to push it back out; the rogue’s companions did that for him. Another body began to force its way in through the slider, while yet another targeted the windshield. The truck skidded to the side, then landed nose-first in a snowbank.

  “Fuck!” Blacque tore at his heavy clothing while Travis fought with the door. “Get out! Go! Run!”

  Travis rammed the door open, shifted on the fly, and landed on four feet at a dead run. He lunged through the snow, making a wide circle to the other side of the truck. Blacque was out, still on two feet, and a solid dozen wolves circled him, two already powering into his massive body.

  Travis didn’t have the mass to compete with the powerful, crushing attacks the other wolves made, but fuck, he could fight like a bitch. Females were faster and, in his opinion, a hell of a lot more wicked. Blacque was down on all fours now and shredding the throat of one of his attackers. Travis darted in, caught the hind leg of a massive shifter, and tore through his Achilles tendon. The wolf screamed in pain, and Travis dived for the other leg.

  No permanent or mortal damage, but for now the rogue was down, and that was all they needed.

  Travis went in low, dodging and dealing sharp, crippling bites, while Blacque slashed and gutted, breaking bones and tearing through the rogues like they were paper. He was magnificent, smoothly moving back and forth between his forms, sometimes fighting on two feet with his hands transformed into lethal claws.

  Travis grunted when a body slammed into his, and he fell, screaming as teeth punctured his hide. He rolled, scrabbled wildly, and tore into the soft belly of his attacker. Blood poured over his face and chest, and his heart raced, because he knew he was equally vulnerable. The crazed shifter hobbled away and collapsed on the bloodstained snow.

  Travis lay on his side, wondering where in God’s name he’d be able to gather his strength when he was already weakened and now wounded. He rolled to his belly just in time to see Blacque collapse under the combined weight of several wolves. Travis surged to his feet, fueled by adrenaline and fear, and leaped into the fray. He cut one down from behind, then backpedaled as a snarling monster turned on him. The wolf was dark against the snow, more brown than black and easily twice his size. As it plowed into him, Travis knew this was the battle that would take him out

  Powerful jaws closed in on his throat, and he thought of Dylan and how he wished he’d had more time…more time…

  His eyesight faded. He looked up, and his eyes went wide. Dylan. The fae wrapped an arm around the other wolf’s neck, easily broke it, then tossed the body away. Before Travis could see clearly, a pair of gray wolves descended on Dylan, and in a flurry of snow all three were gone. He heard the howling cry of the pack, and the battleground went almost silent, save for the panting of fatigue and snarls of fury.

  Travis coughed hard, staggered to his feet, and turned toward the forest to race after Dylan. He only slowed when he saw that the huge brown wolf was gone.

  DYLAN STOOD AT the window, watching as Travis’s black-clad form vanished into a field of unrelieved white. He stood for a full ten minutes, maybe longer, trying to absorb what had just happened. It was like his heart had awakened, beating hard in panic. He blinked rapidly, and his skin prickled. He’d spent a mere day and a half with Travis Feris. This couldn’t be emotion. Yet it felt that way. It had been a very long time since Dylan Ryve had felt anything for anyone, and this sudden rush of sensation alarmed him. No, it terrified him. He wanted to run out into the cold, catch the shifter, and look deep into his eyes to find answers to questions he hadn’t even formed.

  The moment he considered giving chase, a cold feeling descended, and the marks of the geas flared to life on his skin. His intended prey was just miles away—and a friend of Travis’s. It would be so simple to find him. Dylan could end this whole thing in just hours. Decades—centuries of torment would come to an end. He could have a life…friends…a lover.

  If only he could get into Arcada.

  No sooner had the thought entered his mind than he wrenched open the door and dashed out into the snow. He waded into the drifts and lurched past the hulk of his buried car. Just as in the dream, the old skills returned, and he was up on top of the snow, gliding, almost flying. He staggered a few steps, nearly going down, and then caught his balance and recovered the tempo of the run. He sped, moving faster than cars could travel on the treacherous roads. He didn’t worry about being sighted; he blended perfectly into the black-and-white landscape.

  Somewhere just before him was Arcada—and Travis. He was a foolish, foolish man, allowing his hormones to dictate his actions, to let himself succumb to the distraction of a charming youth. In the few moments he had before overtaking the shifters, Dylan frantically scrambled for a plan and settled for the simplest and most impossible idea of all: the pickup bed. If he could evade the sharp eyes of Lukas Blacque, he’d simply hitch a ride in the back of the truck. It was so simple that it had to work.

  It had to. Dylan was running out of options.

  He didn’t feel the cold; the snow was so dry and powdery, it didn’t cling to his boots or clothing. He simply ran, praying for sight of the truck, praying to the unknown, since he hadn’t called out to any god in so very long.

  With his sharp gaze he spotted the ludicrous WELCOME TO NORMALVILLE, USA sign that marked the town limits. Just bare yards from it the old blue truck was off the road, its nose butted up against a wall of snow. Dylan stumbled to a stop, nearly unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Wolves. Three…four atop a single, massive black wolf he instinctively knew was Lukas Blacque. Others darted in, nipping and tearing wherever they found an opening. To the side a smaller black wolf jumped into the fight, moving swiftly, aiming to maim rather than kill. He was devastatingly effective, crippling the attackers before they could turn to defend themselves. But he was smaller, and it took only moments to realize that while the brothers were ferocious fighters, the odds were impossible.

  He started to run but didn’t feel the wind at his back this time. Every step took an eternity, every inch hard fought. As he ran, a fearsome creature broke from the group, rolled the smaller wolf, and gripped him by the throat. Travis struggled and fought, but the other shifter was too big, too powerful. Travis scrambled, his feet fighting to rip and tear, but he was on his back, helpless.

  Dylan knew the exact moment Travis spotted him. His rapidly dulling eyes flared, and he fought a little harder. Focused on the smaller wolf, the gigantic shifter was completely unprepared when Dylan looped an arm around his neck and snapped his spine. The creature wasn’t dead but would be down and crippled for the duration of the battle.

&nb
sp; Two others hurtled in his direction, one slamming him, the other dashing into the cover of the forest. He scrambled to his feet, feinted at one, then attacked the other. Luring them away from Travis seemed like the best strategy to give the young wolf a chance to recover. He traveled twenty yards and pulled on his rusty powers, causing the great trees to tremble and lose their deadwood in a rain of wicked sharp needles. Small animals skittered and drew the attention of the two wolves.

  They circled him, and with a thought, he urged a pair of enormous ravens to come crashing through the branches. Their powerful wings battered the faces, and sharp talons tore at the eyes of the gray wolves. A bird cawed a warning, and Dylan spun, barely in time to intercept the attack of the great brown wolf—the wolf he’d left for dead.

  The power of the beast was phenomenal. Shifters could heal from some shocking injuries, but he’d never seen one recover so rapidly from a broken neck. With a grunt, he clasped the furry ruff of the creature and used its momentum to carry it in the direction it already traveled. The wolf slammed into a tree and lay stunned. Dylan turned back to the other two and debated the merits of leaping into the lower boughs of one of the trees.

  The brown wolf slowly rose, murder in his eyes. He shook, and bark, blood, and fir needles rained from his coat. The pair of grays split up, and Dylan was neatly surrounded. From the corner of his eye he saw Travis approach, and he cursed. Dylan’s arm dangled at his side, throbbing, possibly broken. The tips of his fingers met silken fur, and he had to smile.

  “Hello, Travis. We meet sooner than I anticipated.” A warm tongue swiped his fingers. “Other wolves approach. Should we be worried?” The black wolf shook. “I assume those are your people.” A huff of breath sounded hopeful. “Well, we’ll just wait—”

  The brown wolf charged, and Dylan was hit from the left. He felt the sickening sensation of tearing flesh, smelled his own blood—and other things—thick and hot in the winter air. He kept his injured arm to his side and met the brown wolf with a swinging fist that connected with a satisfying crunch of bone on bone, and by the gods, it hurt! With pain came clarity, and he avoided the attacker and found himself back at the side of Travis.