Saved by Wolves (Shifters Meet Their Mate Book 1) (23 page)

“That bad, huh?” One of the enforcers stationed at the main doors, a Bear named Tyson that he’d crossed paths with multiple times over the years, asked the question.

“Yeah,” Jackson said. “The Cats are threatening to leave the council.”

Tyson shrugged his heavy shoulders. He was lean for a Bear, especially when compared to his burly partner, who guarded the other side of the main doors, but even a lean Bear was large in human form. “Maybe it’s for the best. They’ve always been more trouble than they’re worth.”

The angry part of Jackson agreed, but the other part felt that division was never good. And he really didn’t like the thought of Vincent walking away free and clear. He’d put Kirra in danger. He should be made to pay.

Familiar laughter came from his right, and his feet carried him in that direction before his brain could question it. He rounded the corner of a building, and came to an abrupt halt. There she was, on a blanket, stretched out in the sun, laughing at something her sister was saying. Set between them was the remains of a picnic. Kelvin, in tiger form, lay protectively at Francesca’s back. Kelvin had only shifted into his human form once, when he’d had to tell the alphas his story. If Jackson hadn’t already known Kelvin and Quinn were brothers, one glance at their almost identical lean builds and crooked smiles would have told him. Kelvin’s good looks were marred by a ragged, raised scar that ran across his face, from his hairline, down the side of his nose, and into the heavy beard he wore.

Kirra laughed again, and he forgot all about the tigers. Her laughter wound its way through him, making him feel lighter, happier. He’d always thought humans were weak. Kirra came across as small and soft, but under that deceptively delicate exterior lay an iron-strong will and rock-steady determination. She was a shifter at heart.

She must have sensed him watching, as her laughter faded away and she lifted her head to meet his eyes. Her own eyes sparkled for an instant—was she happy to see him?—but the moment was lost as she scrambled to her feet and closed the distance between them.

“Jackson. Should you be walking around? I thought you were going to stay in Wolf form until you fully healed.” Her hands hovered over his shoulder and belly, as if she wanted to check the wounds for herself.

“I’m fine,” he said, the words coming out harsher than he’d intended. Her hands dropped and she backed up a step. Jackson wanted to growl in protest as she moved away, taking her light scent with her, but restrained himself. His headache from the exposure to cell phone towers had dissipated the first day back and his shoulder was ninety percent healed, but it felt as if a knife stabbed him in the belly with every step he took. It was nothing he couldn’t deal with, but there was a chance it was affecting his temper. He’d stayed in Wolf form until the alpha council and the rest of the shifters started acting like idiots and let Vincent run roughshod over them. Then he’d shifted so he could have his say. Not that it had done any good.

“Can you tell us what’s happening?” Francesca asked. She remained seated on the ground, bad leg extended out to the side, long hair loose, cascading over her shoulders. She was beautiful. He never thought he’d be attracted to a human, but if he had, she was the type of woman he’d have thought of—a long, leggy blonde. But he felt nothing. No spark of attraction, certainly not the rage of fire that coiled in his belly every time he saw Kirra or caught a whiff of her unique scent. 

“Jackson?” Kirra questioned, and he realized he’d been staring at her sister like a fool.

“The Cats are leaving,” he said.

“Is it their choice, or are they being forced out?” Francesca asked.

“Half and half. The alphas can’t kick him off the council, as he’s denied everything, and there’s no concrete proof, but they’ve voted to look into every disappearance—even Justine, and she usually backs Vincent. When I left, he was planning to leave, threatening to tear up the treaty, and swearing that trespassers on his land will be dealt with.

Francesca sat up straighter and cast a worried glance at the tiger, who huffed, butted her side with his head, then stalked off in the direction of the meeting hall. Francesca stared after him.

“I’m sure he’ll stay,” Kirra said. “They both will. They wouldn’t follow Vincent.”

Francesca slumped and picked at a loose thread on her dress, then looked up, plastering on a determinedly bright expression. “I’m sure you’re right, and it really doesn’t matter anyway. We’re just... friends.” She switched her focus to Jackson. “Would you like a drink? Dustin and Destiny—Bears I think?—brought us this picnic and some amazing honey mead.” Without waiting for his response, she flicked a glance at an empty glass and the half-full jug on the blanket, and they rose into the air. The jug tipped and filled the glass with light amber mead, and the glass came flying at him. In reflex, he raised his hand to swat it away. Kirra grabbed the glass with one hand and his wrist with the other.

“You get used to it,” she said, a smile in her voice. To her sister, she said, “Maybe give people some warning until they’re used to you flinging things around, sis.”

Francesca laughed. “Whoops. Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m just not used to being able to use my powers out in the open. It’s gone to my head I think. I’m going to miss this freedom when we leave.”

“I wasn’t startl—what do you mean, leave?”

“As soon as Francesca can get around without crutches, we’ll be leaving. I know how much trouble we’ve been. You probably can’t wait to get rid of us.” Kirra said the words to the middle of his chest, which suddenly cramped. There wasn’t any air. He couldn’t breathe. She was leaving. Leaving him. She was still speaking, but he couldn’t hear anything, could only feel the touch of her hand still on his wrist. That touch grounded him, and he twisted his hand to twine her fingers in his and used his other hand to lift her chin so he could see her shining eyes.

“Mate with me.”

T
hree little words, and they almost knocked her on her ass. Unexpected joy raced through Kirra, and her body tingled all the way to her toes. Even though it was impossible, as she’d told Marcus, part of her had wanted Jackson to ask her to stay too. To let her know he cared, even if only a little. She’d never expected more.
Mate with me.

He was looking at her expectantly, waiting for her answer. When he’d first said the words, his expression right after betrayed the fact he was as surprised as she was to hear them. Within seconds, that expression had cleared, replaced with one of sheer determination. And his hand was squeezing hers so hard she was losing feeling in her fingers.

“You know we are good together,” he continued, pressing his case. “In the woods, when we—”

“Let’s go inside and talk,” Kirra interrupted, pointing to the building she was staying in and fighting the blush she felt working its way up her throat. Francesca was looking on, fascinated, and while she loved her sister, Kirra had no desire to share details of her love life with her—at least not narrated by Jackson. “We’ll have more privacy there.”

He let her lead him away, and they made it to her small room without incident.

As soon as she shut the door, Jackson pressed her against it, framed her face with his hands, and dipped down to kiss her. 

“Wait.” It was hard—one of the hardest things she’d ever had to do—but Kirra pushed him away and fought to catch her breath.

“You don’t want me?” His voice was strong, but a flicker of uncertainty crossed his eyes.

“Of course I want you.” She flattened a hand against his chest to keep him back when he made to kiss her again. “But there are too many problems. Your alpha, the mutations... Marcus.” She swallowed hard. “I need to be honest with you. I was... with Marcus.”

“You choose him?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.” Kirra leaned the back of her head against the door and scrubbed a hand over her face. He didn’t seem at all surprised by her confession. “I don’t know. I care about”—
love
—“both of you.”

Jackson backed off, and she immediately missed the warmth of his presence. “I see. So you won’t mate with me because you also want Marcus.”

“It just doesn’t seem fair to you.” Or Marcus. “And your alpha doesn’t seem too pleased with me for stirring up so much trouble, so I doubt he or his mate want me around.”

He nodded. “And the other thing? The mutations?”

“What? Oh, I read the section in the history and law book that talks about all the problems with shifters and humans mating. Their children were born deformed or with mental problems. I know how important having children is for the pack. I might not even be fully human—who knows what would happen if we had a child?” It was a depressing, haunting thought.

“I understand,” Jackson said, nodding, then reached out for the door handle.

In shock, Kirra stepped aside to let him pass. He was down the hall and out the front door before she had a chance to call him back, to talk more. Although what did they have to talk about? He’d heard her concerns and hadn’t even tried to argue with her. He’d written her off. As he should. As Marcus apparently had, too—she hadn’t seen him since the day they’d arrived and she’d given her statement to the council.

It was for the best. Having a relationship with one of them and history with the other would be too complicated, and there was nothing for her to do here anyway. She’d be useless in shifter society.

It was for the best. That didn’t stop the tears building in her throat from welling up and bursting out.

Kirra curled up on her bed in the fetal position and sobbed until her eyes burned and her throat was raw.

***

L
oud rapping on the bedroom door pulled Kirra from a restless sleep. She pulled her pillow over her head, hoping to drown it out, but the pillow was too thin and the rapping too loud and insistent.

“Go away,” she called, keeping her eyes clamped shut. Her voice came out raspy, and she cleared her dry throat. “I’m taking a nap.”

The knocking stopped. “You’ve been in there for hours,” Francesca called through the wooden door. “Are you feeling okay?”

Tossing the pillow to the side, Kirra cracked one eye open. The room was dim, the only light the last rays of the setting sun. She’d been asleep for over half the day. Her body felt heavy, lethargic, and her mind was groggy. And when she made the mistake of thinking about Jackson, or Marcus, or leaving, or what the future held, she just wanted to bury her head under the covers and go to sleep again.

Which wasn’t like her at all. She wasn’t the type of girl—woman—who swooned over a man—men—and fell to pieces if things didn’t work out. She was a fighter. A doer. She made things happen.

Hah.

She was a fraud.

She wasn’t a fighter or a doer. She was letting life happen to her, not molding it into what she wanted and needed.

“Kirra?” Francesca’s voice, concerned.

Was she really going to walk away from two of the best men she’d ever met? Guys who’d rescued her, helped her, loved her, risked their lives for her? Kirra picked up the glass of water she kept on the bedside table, took a sip to soothe her throat, and stared into the glass, swirling the water.

They were so different. Jackson was like a steady river, quiet, but with strong, forceful undercurrents, while Marcus was more like the water at the base of a waterfall. Churning and roiling and never still.

And she loved them.

“You know I’m standing out here on a broken leg, right? If you don’t answer me, I swear I’m going to get one of those big Bear shifter guys outside to come in and break this door down. You hear me? I—”

Kirra unlatched the door and it swung inward, catching Francesca, who’d been leaning on it, by surprise. She pitched to the side, and Kirra caught her before she hit the floor.

“I love them,” Kirra said.

“What?”

“I said I love them.” She propped her sister against the wall and backed up a step. “I can’t believe I was going to walk away from them. What was I thinking?”

“Jackson and Marcus? Both of them?” Francesca asked, eyes wide.

“Yes. Don’t worry—it’s not that crazy. Daisy’s got two too. I’ve got to find them.” Kirra whirled around and ran toward the exit, shedding tiredness and gaining energy with every step.

“You might want to wash your face or brush your hair first,” she heard Francesca call after her, but she didn’t want to stop. If she did, she might lose her nerve.

Oil lanterns hung at intervals around the main building still blazed, and Kirra headed straight for it. If the meeting was still going on, Marcus and Jackson should be there.

“You can’t go in,” a blond guard posted at the door said, stretching out a thick arm to block her way. His partner barely glanced at her. From their size and the silent one’s demeanor, she pegged them as Bears. Over the last few days, she’d found she had a pretty good instinct about those things.

“But I need to. I need to see—” She cut herself off, not quite ready to shout her intentions to the world.

“They should be wrapping up soon. I can try to slip in, pass a message to someone if it’s an emergency.”

“No, not an emergency...” Just the rest of her life. Energy deflating like a popped balloon, Kirra shook her head. Maybe it was a sign. Maybe she was crazy to think it could work.

“You’re the electricity girl, right?” he said. “The one who beat up Monroe and Lash and left them tied up?” It was hard to tell from his neutral tone of voice and expression if he was impressed, angry, or couldn’t care less.

“I prefer ‘Kirra’ over ‘electricity girl,’” she said, “but yeah, that’s me.” Thinking of Lash brought a pang of guilt with it, but she pushed it down.

The guard grinned, deep dimples carving their way through his cheeks. “Wish I’d been there. I don’t think you want to be inside, though.” He stepped away from the building, grasped her just above the wrist, and led her a few feet away, until they had a line of sight straight to the far north of the collection of buildings. A small group of people were gathered in a ragged semicircle, and when she strained, she could hear them heckling and cheering.