Autumn Moon (3 page)

Cormack held back his surprise. “You would advise me on how to approach your sister?”

“Elen insists on remaining at her cottage.” Irritation flicked across his face. “I don't want her there alone. She trusted you once, and you proved worthy of that trust. For
over three centuries, you were her shadow. I need you to be so again. Are you willing to protect her?”

Willing?
Cormack took a moment before answering to clear his expression and calm his beast. The true intensity of his feelings wasn't something Dylan should witness, but the man wanted assurances, and he would have them. “I will protect her until the day I can no longer draw air into my lungs.”

“I'm counting on it.” Apprehension riddled his cryptic response, as if he'd been forced to make a concession due to a greater concern. “I'm assigning you as Elen's personal guard.”

Elen froze in the doorway of Dylan's office, having overheard a murmur of male voices as she approached, unable to distinguish the conversation until she rounded the corner. But the last damning bit registered all too clearly:
I'm assigning you as Elen's personal guard.
Blood pounded about her temples as she stared at the back of Cormack's head and realized who'd been assigned.

“Absolutely not!” She barely breathed through her outrage. Even worse, she regretted her words as soon as they left her mouth, because a tiny part of her—okay, not so tiny—wanted him back in her life. But she wanted him there by choice.
Not
by assignment.

Conversation ceased. Her brother, wise to her wishes, immediately cleared his expression. Cormack, not so wise, looked appropriately guilty.

And so absurdly beautiful, she despised him all the more.
No, “despise” was the wrong sentiment, for she could never feel that way toward him, but his rejection had hurt. And he
had
rejected her at a time when she'd needed his understanding the most.

Now he regarded her with hooded eyes the deepest color of blue, as if all the delphiniums in her garden had propagated to form the richest shade and gifted it upon him. His hair had grown past the unruly stage and hung about his shoulders in a mass of auburn waves. Even now, her hands itched to explore its texture.

His build, large as a wolf, and just as large as a man, had been honed over the last few months. Wide shoulders tapered down to a trim waist. She could only imagine what waited under his serviceable navy sweater and worn jeans.

“You will either accept a guard at your cottage,” Dylan said, drawing her attention away from pointless musings, “or you will move into Rhuddin Hall.” The worry in his voice softened the order but also warned that his mind was set. “Those are your two options.”

A terse reply hovered on her tongue, but she held it back. As the leader of this territory, his orders required respect; as her brother who'd sacrificed much to keep her safe, he would always have hers. Moreover, her wish for privacy was a petty thing when dragons delivered invitations to dance. “I need to speak with you alone.” The matter of Cormack must wait, for they had more pressing concerns. She walked around the desk to stand in front of Dylan. “It's urgent.”

“Does this urgent matter involve your welfare?”
His
voice came at her from behind, deep, masculine, and curious—as if he had the right to insinuate himself back into her life without even a hint of remorse.

“Please leave, Cormack.” Elen had only heard him speak one other time. It affected her now as much as it did then.
She couldn't concentrate with him in the room. “This doesn't concern you.”

“I disagree.” The obstinate man didn't budge from his chair. “As your personal guard, everything in your life concerns me.”

She could only stare. He'd changed in more ways than fur to flesh. The wolf she remembered would have respected her wishes.

“Stay if you must,” she said in a flippant tone, as if this new attitude didn't disturb her in the least. When, in actuality, her heart beat in a rhythm so frantic she feared he might hear it. Gathering her composure, she handed the letter to her brother and waited while he read.

Tight-lipped, Dylan placed the parchment on his desk. “Who delivered it?”

“You should be asking me
what
delivered it.” Elen gave a brief accounting of the conjuring of clouds.

He remained deep in thought for several moments. “You're not leaving Rhuddin Village to face him alone, if that's what you're planning in that head of yours.”

“If that were the case, I'd already be gone.” Not that the idea hadn't crossed her mind, but running would only make her family appear weak, a greater risk when dealing with Pendaran. No, this threat must be faced directly at home—preferably hers.

A low growl filled the room, lifting the hairs at her nape, more because it had come from Cormack and not her brother. He held the crumpled letter in his fist. Obviously he'd learned how to read. Among other things, she was sure.

“What the fuck is this?” He brandished the wrinkled parchment in accusation. “That putrid ass mentioned a dress. Has he been contacting you?”

His outburst surprised her enough that it never occurred to her not to answer. “Pendaran has sent me a few gifts.”

“Gifts?”
Apparently he'd also learned how to swear. Quite proficiently, in fact, as more vulgar words followed. “What kind of gifts?”

“Nothing of significance.” Truly, the jewels, brooches, paintings, garden statues, and silk gown held no value to her when given with ill intent. The collection of pebbles she kept on her windowsill, given to her by Melissa, Cormack's niece, was far more precious.

Cormack turned to Dylan. “And you allowed this?”

Her brother sneered at the insult. “Do you think I haven't considered every other alternative that doesn't involve ceding my territory to our enemies?”

A trail of mottled red began to crawl from Cormack's neck to his face. He was angry, Elen realized. Livid, actually. “If you've sanctioned communication from their leader, is that not yielding?”

“Spoken like a wolf,” Dylan returned with more appreciation than annoyance. “But you must learn to embrace your humanity if you're to protect others who have.” He went on to state the stark reality of their precarious position. “The Guardians have attacked us twice now; once here, and once in Avon. As you know, there are other leaders willing to stand with us against them, but not enough. You saw how many followed Pendaran's orders in Avon.”

Cormack's lips peeled back at the memory. “Cowards,” he spat.

“Some, but not all. Power is seductive to our kind.” Green bled into her brother's dark gaze. He held tight control of his wolf, but lines bracketed his face with strain. “I have five hundred and seven people living in Rhuddin Village
under my protection, but only eighteen of them can shift. Nineteen,” he amended, “now that you've returned. Luc and Rosa have eleven shifters among two hundred and twelve, and I included them in that tally.”

All true, of course, but hearing their numbers stated in such a way only strengthened Elen's resolve for the approaching evening. Rhuddin Village and Avon were mostly inhabited by members of their race born without the ability to shift. They lived for centuries, healed faster than humans, but were vulnerable in a battle against shifters who healed instantly during the change. The Guardians, led by Pendaran himself, viewed them as undeniable proof that their bloodlines were weakening due to overbreeding with humans. A ludicrous notion born of fear and prejudice. But poisoned minds weren't easily swayed. And like her brothers, she would do what she must to keep their people safe.

As if he hadn't heard, or didn't care, Cormack shoved the balled parchment in her face. “You're not going.” He spoke low, but his eyes raged.

“Agreed,” Dylan confirmed. “It's time to end this farce. Elen, make a list of what you need from your cottage. You're moving into Rhuddin Hall.”

“No,” she said. “I won't bring danger directly into your home, not with Sophie and Joshua here.”
Not again.
He'd almost lost them six months earlier because of her, and she refused to risk their lives when she was fully capable of defending herself. “My cottage is close enough. I won't leave our territory, but I must face him from my own environment.”

Like sun on wet earth, Dylan's frustration rolled off his shoulders in waves. “Elen—”

“No,” she repeated, shaking her head with conviction. On this matter, she wouldn't bend. “You treat me as if I need protection.” She flicked her hand toward Cormack.
“Assigning me guards without my consent.” She could rip the very life force from any living thing, plant or creature, if she so chose. “As if I'm weak—”

“Your compassion is your weakness,” Dylan asserted with annoying insight. “Correspondence is one thing, but this is a different situation. If you are harmed . . . if you are taken . . . if I, as a leader, allow that to happen without retaliation—what will the consequences be?” His voice rose, unbending in its authority. “Answer me, Elen!”

She closed her eyes, knowing the answer, and hating that he was right. “The war will begin in earnest.” Because neither of her brothers, Dylan nor Luc, would submit to Guardian rule, since it would only bring more deaths to the weaker members of their race. Or enslavement. Worse, she couldn't bear the thought of another battle because of her. Not when it was her family who suffered most.

“Elen needs her cottage,” Cormack said. He spoke low, but his calm intrusion gained both Elen and Dylan's full attention—hers for more personal reasons. “You would encase her in a fortress of cemented rock,” he explained, waving his hand around the office with its whitewashed stone walls, “when her greatest weapon is her garden and the forest that surrounds her home. Nature is her sword. How would you react if asked to face an enemy without yours?”

Elen leaned into the polished wood of the desk to steady her balance. His understanding rendered her speechless. He
knew
her. Of course he knew her, but now he had a voice that gave him the ability to articulate that knowledge. And he'd done it in a way her brother would appreciate.

And he wasn't quite finished. “Avon put her at the same disadvantage.” Cormack lifted his arms in demonstration of his fairly new form. “The battle before, the one that took place in these very woods . . .” His voice trailed off.
The
one,
he might have said were he less considerate,
where she'd ripped the power from a Guardian and given it to him.
He said instead, “You see before you what she can do in her own environment.”

Seeking confirmation, Dylan pinned her with an assessing glare. “If this is your reason for wanting to stay, I would hear it from you.” He thought like a warrior, and all this talk of weapons and defenses swayed his decision more than any of her former arguments.

If she weren't so grateful, she may have been put out. Either way, she didn't deny its accuracy. “He's right.”

Dylan pushed back from his desk and shoved open his office window. A crisp breeze ruffled the drapes and carried the scent of pine and earth. Ivy grew along the outer wall and spilled over the sill, a blanket of green edged by red as autumn's cool nights painted its glossy leaves.

Knowing her brother needed reassurances, Elen crossed the few paces to stand beside him. She reached out to stroke the twisted stems with her right hand and gently placed her left over his. This ivy was strong and old, and so was its power as it rose to greet her. Touch was a direct conduit for her gift, and she allowed just a taste of what she held to flow along her arm and into his skin.

As always, she felt the transfer. It began as a tingle, like the awakening of blood-deprived limbs, but soon burned like red embers against tender flesh. The energy of his beast recoiled at her invasion. Pure in soul and savvy in spirit, it knew when to run.

Where most men would have shrunk from her grasp, Dylan only sucked in his breath. “Enough,” he said. “You've made your point.”

Slowly, she eased the flow before removing her hand. The vine gave one last surge at her withdrawal. Five months
earlier it would have made her knees buckle at the cost of its life. She weaved slightly, but as Ms. Hafwen had taught her, she mentally closed off her sense receptors until the energy receded without harm to either her or the ivy.

Pleased with her own improvement, Elen scarcely contained a smile. “I don't know why the Gods chose me for this gift, but the time has come for me to use it.”

He scowled, unimpressed with her claim but observant of her progress. “You're learning to control it.”

“Yes.” She dared not discuss how in current company, because only Ms. Hafwen chose who knew of her existence. Breaking the trust of the Fae yielded nasty repercussions. “If Pendaran wants to make contact, he'll find a way. Avon is proof of that.” When he'd summoned all unmated females with power, including a child. Even Elen hadn't been able to resist his call. But, as Cormack had rightly known, she'd been weakened then.

No longer.

“If you remain at your cottage,” Dylan said after a long pause, “you'll be keeping a guard with you.”

A concession, but not a full one.

However, she knew when to push and when to negotiate. “Fine, but whoever stays with me must do so by choice—and not by your order.” When he went to argue she held up her hand. “No,” she pressed her concern. “Anyone who accompanies me becomes a potential casuality. I've no use for a guard unless they're willing and aware.”

“Elen,” Cormack interrupted, “I am both.” His familiarity caught her off guard, as did her name on his lips. “I know what you're capable of better than anyone. And I'm willing to stand by your side in whatever capacity you need.”