Healed Page 2

  She had everything Ava had coveted so badly: true, natural beauty, strength of will, and the ability to defend herself without any need for a man. Ava had been…weak, for lack of a better word. So delicate was she, Cael had been afraid bedding her would break her. He’d been certain childbirth would take her life, and made precautions to ensure that didn’t prove to be a danger.

  Only something else was out there to destroy the delicate girl who’d never grown to be a woman, despite her twenty-five years of life. So small and fragile, her tremulous voice shrill, Ava appeared younger than she was the year she died, having never had a true reason to grow up.

  Aiyanna was her absolute opposite. She had a waist and thighs meant for a man’s hands, and muscle that showed time spent training to defend herself. Her skin wasn’t pale, but the color of coffee with cream, rich and glowing with health. Despite her apparent strength, Cael couldn’t risk touching her and killing her as easily as he’d done to Ava.

  Ava’s loss had broken him, but to lose Aiyanna? That would kill him, of that he had no doubt.

  “I’m the only one trying to see sense.” Cael set his weight down. Of course, no one would agree with him. No one cared about the long-dead Irish girl whose fate could easily become that of a twenty-first century woman.

  Shaking her long, straight, black hair, Aiyanna stepped around the mess he’d made. “To be honest, I can see both sides.” She cursed when she saw the demolished rowing machine, her preferred tool when she worked out at the firehouse. “I don’t see how getting your powers back puts anyone in danger. You’ll use them to protect, when now all you have is brute strength. That isn’t going to do much good for anyone.” She shrugged. “These warlocks aren’t minor league.”

  It was an understatement. The warlocks were lethal, even to a fully-powered werewolf pack, one where soldiers had trained with their elements for centuries. It was a luxury his pack didn’t have. Everyone but him had their powers back, but they were still learning their elements’ intricacies. Their abilities had been bound for so long, they’d become something else entirely since their last use.

  It wasn’t lost on Cael that Heath developed air powers over the time his water abilities were bound, or that Sebastian’s fire was now drawn to electricity. With or without Cael’s powers added to the mix, they were behind.

  Their plight to defeat the warlocks was almost hopeless. It would have been a lost cause, but Cael refused to roll over and let a group of witch rejects screw him and his pack.

  That didn’t mean he needed his elemental abilities back. He was an air elemental, and a damned good one, before it was bound tightly inside him. If he kept things as they were, as they had been for so long, at least he’d be dealing with what he knew.

  There wouldn’t be any unexpected fluctuations in what he could do because everything he was capable of was limited to strength and strategy. He could settle for a lifetime of that in this city so full of life and culture.

  Part of his binding meant he couldn’t leave New Orleans, strapping him to the city permanently. Unlike a few of his packmates, he hadn’t developed wanderlust. He was content to be here, protecting who he could and allowing himself the pleasure of witnessing time wear and morph this unique place into an increasingly mature creature in and of itself.

  He didn’t need any changes, not now. That’s what was best for his pack.

  “I’m not accepting the Elders’ offer, and that’s final. Whether Raphael wishes to convey it to them or not is his problem.”

  Thinking about his Alpha’s reaction to the same words made him want to break something else…only he was perilously close to running out of objects to maim.

  Maybe he should have waited to tear the punching bag to pieces. The bits that were left lay underneath the larger, very broken elliptical.

  “I thought you’d at least hear me out, but I was obviously very wrong.” Aiyanna sounded severe, haughty even, but Cael could have sworn there was trace of hurt under the barbed comment.

  He wanted to reach for her, which was exactly why he didn’t move an inch.

  “I have heard you—”

  “No, you haven’t!” The lid was off Aiyanna’s temper, and he knew he was in for it now. She hardly held herself back to begin with, but from the red heating her cheeks, this was worse than their usual arguments.

  Something he’d said caused her to snap; he saw it in her sharp exhalation, the brightening of her eyes.

  “You haven’t listened to me since the moment we met, and nothing in five years has changed that.” Aiyanna rounded on him and pushed at his chest, hard.

  It took more than he would have admitted to keep from stumbling back.

  She pulled his torn button-down into her fists, dragging herself ever closer. She smelled like cardamom, cloves and vanilla, the spices of her scent reminding him of her unique heritage, one she rarely spoke about.

  Not that I ever ask.

  “You know what?” she said in a low voice.

  Cael didn’t answer. He only stood very, very still, his best bet to keep distance between them.

  Of course he overlooked the warmth of her breath against his neck and the electricity of her hands so close to his skin. Those were things he couldn’t think about, not ever again.

  “If you act like a coward and refuse to take your powers back, ones that shouldn’t have been kept from you for so long to begin with, I’m finished with you. I’ll help your pack, but you’ll be dead to me. Even if it kills me in the process.”

  She spoke with enough conviction to give him pause, her anger causing her to overlook his minor injuries.

  It was a first for her—she always healed him first, and then yelled.

  Over the years, she’d driven him nearly mad throwing herself at him, demanding him to take her on dates he couldn’t give her, tempting him with her tantalizing body, but she’d also become someone other than a woman he could love.

  Aiyanna was his friend; his best friend, if he were truthful about it. She’d never turn her back on him, just as he wouldn’t ever disregard her. There could be nothing more than a platonic bond between them, but he’d be there for her in a second if she needed him. She knew that.

  He’d never let any sort of harm come to her. She wouldn’t follow through with her threat because she wouldn’t hurt him either.

  “I’m no coward.” It came out as a snarl.

  “You won’t change your mind, will you?”

  Cael’s jaw tensed. He shook his head slowly, watching a veil fall over Aiyanna’s expression. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them he was shocked to find they were full of unshed tears.

  “That’s all I need to know,” she said brokenly before she released his shirt and walked away, barely missing a chunk of twisted plastic on her way out of the gym.

  It was when her scent faded behind her that her loss hit him. It was such a familiar sense that it shouldn’t have caused the dull ache in his chest. Normally, he was numb to such, but whether it was the shine of her eyes or the break in her voice, it was all he could do not to roar.

  So he waited, and then he released a bellow before swiveling to the treadmill. Turning it on, he ripped off his ruined shirt and pushed buttons until the machine was running at maximum speed and its highest incline.

  It wasn’t until his muscles refused to move any more, sweat pouring from almost every orifice, that he stopped. Still, he wasn’t calmed. Aiyanna’s scent still lingered in the room, the planes of her face sticking in his mind.

  He put one fist through the wall, and then another.

  The only person who he wanted to heal his hands, now covered in both dried and fresh blood, wasn’t speaking to him.

  Cael wasn’t really “dead” to her—she wouldn’t do that to him.

  Would she?

  When he left the gym, he didn’t bother to close the door behind him. In a house full of werewolves with keen hearing, no one missed the mess he’d caused
.

  He didn’t care.

  Aiyanna often stayed in the room directly above his when she slept at the firehouse. He’d suggested the room, knowing he’d be able to hear if anyone came in to harm her, despite that the back of his mind, his most secret, repressed piece of himself, simply liked to hear her shuffle about before she settled into sleep.

  Taking the stairs two at a time, he made his way to the third floor. He could smell that Aiyanna was still there.

  Where did the suitcases come from? She had them lying in the doorway of her room, where she haphazardly packed clothes, blankets and a framed picture of her and the pack from the last Fourth of July.

  “What are you doing?”

  She looked up as if she’d just noticed him, when he knew full well she’d heard his approach. “I’m leaving,” she said shortly.

  Something inside him wrenched, making him oddly…uncomfortable. Then he understood that the notion of Aiyanna permanently leaving the firehouse left him very uneasy.

  “Why? What’s changed so drastically that you feel the need to pack?”

  He kept his voice as calm and nonchalant as he could. If she had an inkling of the way his innards were twisting around, she would latch on to the weakness and exploit it.

  Likely with her hands and mouth.

  To regain his focus, he bit the side of his cheek so hard he drew blood. Not that she’d be able to scent it over the rest of the blood smeared on his skin.

  “Why?” Aiyanna tossed a well-worn book into her suitcase with enthusiasm. “I’ve thrown myself at you for too long, wasting my time when you don’t care about me, your pack, or really anyone except yourself and a long-dead girl who you should get over already.”

  Speechless, Cael watched silently while she struggled to fit everything into her suitcase and zip it up. He didn’t offer to help, merely listened while she cursed under her breath in more than one language.

  “I’ve wasted enough time on you, Cael Prendergast.” She didn’t bother to glance up at him, instead taking out her phone and typing.

  A moment later, Vale, Heath’s brother, appeared with Katarina on his arm. The sort-of witch, sort-of warlock was a waif of a woman, standing a full head shorter than Aiyanna with a sympathetic expression on her face.

  When she met Cael’s eyes, her features rearranged to show apparent aggravation.

  Vale lent no opinion, but simply leaned down to ask Aiyanna if she was ready to leave.

  The other, older were was far too close to her, but before Cael could properly place his fist between the other man’s eyes she nodded, finally looking him full in the face.

  He was so distracted that he didn’t notice the witch flick something at him that knocked him flat on his ass. He only heard Aiyanna’s surprised gasp before all three were gone, with nothing left in Aiyanna’s room but a neatly made bed and her lingering scent.

  “Damn it!”

  On his way out, away from anything that reminded him of the woman who haunted his dreams, he ripped the door off its hinges.

  Tearing it in two, he left the pieces in the hall, uncaring of the splinters anyone unsuspecting and barefoot would encounter.

  He needed a drink. It was a good thing he lived in perhaps the easiest city in the world to get one.

  * * * *

  “What’d you do to him?”

  Katarina stepped back, away from the angry shapeshifter.

  She had no qualms with Aiyanna, and she certainly hadn’t thought screwing with Cael would piss her off. Wrong.

  “I threw a little energy at him, that’s all. He won’t be any worse for wear than he already is,” Katarina answered truthfully. Cael had looked terrible. His arms and hands were torn up and shallow abrasions covered his bare torso. He’d appeared similar to a crazed, very fit madman…who smelled like ass.

  Someone needed to remind him showering after a workout/freak-out was customary in the modern-day South.

  Aiyanna took a deep breath, as if she were trying to calm herself. “Just don’t mess with him again, okay?”

  Reluctantly, Katarina nodded. “Fine.” She didn’t want to make waves among these creatures, and she especially didn’t want to do anything to mar the tremulous trust forming between her and Vale.

  It had taken over a month for him to see past the whole fledgling-warlock thing. She could hardly blame him since the warlocks had declared war on his brother’s pack.

  “Where are we, anyway?” Aiyanna asked.

  Katarina bit back a laugh. She was in for a surprise.

  Vale answered, having watched their exchange thoughtfully, his hands clasped behind his back. “You said in your message that you didn’t want to go home, but I guessed you don’t want to leave New Orleans, so here we are.” Katarina was currently living in Halifax with a faery named Christabel, and Vale was the head soldier for his pack in Asheville. He held up his hands with a shrug. “This is Emmanuel’s place—he said you could stay here as long as you need to.”

  The shapeshifter huffed. “I don’t need a place to stay. Some other shifters will have me—”

  “But do you really want to stay in a three-bedroom apartment shared by six people already? No, I don’t think you do.” Emmanuel said.

  He emerged from the shadows, something more easily done here given there were more shadows in this city than Halifax, Canada, where the prospect of palm trees was laughable, and Katarina only saw him on the top floor flat of a high-rise complex.

  Now palm trees, visible from the bright outdoor lights, pressed against the windows of Emmanuel’s shotgun house on the end of Broadway. He lived directly across the street from the Mississippi River.

  Katarina had to admit she much preferred this to Christabel’s more sterile home, but she was grateful to have a place to lay her head at all.

  Besides, Emmanuel hadn’t invited her to stay; he wanted Aiyanna here. He’d looked at Vale’s text over the werewolf’s shoulder and declared he was to have a houseguest.

  She’d been about to ask why when Vale shut her up with a don’t go there look before he disappeared with Emmanuel and re-appeared to take her with him to Aiyanna’s. She would never say anything to him about it, but she had a sneaking suspicion he brought her there because he’d known she would do something to land Cael on his ass.

  If she remembered correctly, the night she met Vale, he’d sent her flying, more than once.

  Aiyanna squared her shoulders while she sized Emmanuel up. Lesser men would have cringed away from her scrutiny, but he merely cocked a dark eyebrow.

  “You’re that kelpie Sebastian saved from the warlocks.” She put both of her fisted hands on her hips, a move Katarina knew would only encourage Emmanuel further. “I thought we’d see a lot more of you, but we haven’t. Why?”

  To Katarina’s surprise, his answer was frank rather than snarky. He must actually like her. “I’m a kelpie, not some sort of shapeshifting, moon-howling creature. I prefer hanging out with the Fey, and the almost-warlock over here doesn’t bother me too much.”

  He winked at Katarina. Vale stiffened beside her, but it had nothing to do with the kelpie’s flirtation. If only.

  “It’s why I live so close to the river. You don’t think I spend all day on land, do you?”

  Aiyanna shrugged. “Honestly, I’ve known too few of your kind to have that sort of knowledge. It seems you aren’t the only one who prefers other creatures’ company.”

  This time, what Emmanuel did sent Katarina beyond surprise; she was floored. The kelpie pulled Aiyanna into a hug, and there was no hint of sarcasm on his face, which, for once, was completely visible. Normally his waist-length black hair hung near his eyes, but today it was pulled into a neat ponytail at the base of his neck.

  He seemed to truly wish to comfort her. Katarina wouldn’t have thought him capable of the like.

  “Stay here as long as you need, sweet.”

  When a tear escaped Aiyanna’s eye, followed by anoth
er, Katarina looked to Vale, who appeared as panicked as she felt. This just got weird.

  She jerked her head toward the door, and he nodded.

  “Let me know if you need anything else,” Vale murmured uneasily before he took Katarina by the hand and whisked them into the center of Audubon Park, within blocks of Emmanuel’s house.

  “That wasn’t normal for you guys, was it?” Katarina asked, tightening her grip on Vale’s hand. If he wasn’t letting go, she sure as hell wasn’t either.

  His eyes were still large. “No,” he said slowly. “That’s strange even by creature standards.” He shook his head as if he could jerk the awkward memory loose. “Cael will be furious, of course.”

  She didn’t bother to look at him as they strode next to a stream, narrowly avoiding a bearded man in a Tulane sweatshirt who’d thought drinking and roller blading was a good idea. He smelled like cheap whiskey as he rolled by, followed by laughing friends clutching equally cheap beers in their hands.

  Part of Katarina wished she’d had that kind of experience, if only once. Sure, they were making fun of their friend, but one of the taller humans followed him closely enough to steady him should he need it, and a woman with short pink hair watched him with a hand over her mouth, as if worried about his safety.

  No one had ever cared about Katarina’s safety; not her parents, foster parents, or even the coven that should have accepted her. She’d never felt the camaraderie emanating from a group of shallow, drunken humans less than a week before Mardi Gras.

  Gah, I need to stop feeling sorry for myself.

  “We won’t tell Cael,” Katarina murmured. Aiyanna had asked not to be taken to her house because he would likely wait for her there.

  Despite rarely being helped in her life, Katarina wanted to help someone now. She wanted to pay it forward for a time when she needed to be taken somewhere she wouldn’t be found.

  Vale shook his head. “No, but I’ll fill Heath and Raphael in on what’s happening. They know where Emmanuel lives.”

  They walked in silence, hand-in-hand, for a good ten minutes before Katarina’s phone rang. It was Christabel’s ringtone, the one the faery herself had installed into the phone when she gave it to Katarina.