Zurlo, Michele - Torment [Daughters of Circe 1] (Siren Publishing Classic) (2 page)

Restless and alone, Shade surveyed the mess that was his home from the second floor balcony. It was an exceptionally nice house. He had built it with his own two hands, cutting the timber from his land to fashion the crude log cabin that, over the years, morphed into something truly elegant.

Something worthy of Hope.

The front end of the house, over which the balcony looked, contained an open-style kitchen and living room. The ceiling rose above him, vaulting gracefully to meet the second-story roof and echoing the pattern of the hand-cut hardwood floor. Cupboards covered the far wall where the majority of the kitchen appliances were located. The counters were a pale marble that added light and energy to a room that could have been dark and foreboding. Extending to the living room like the ceiling and the floor, recessed and dropped lighting completed the open plan.

The front half of the kitchen was given over to a massive dining table that would comfortably seat at least eight, though no more than two had ever attended it. The front and side walls in both rooms were broken by large, curtainless windows. Living in such a remote area, Shade didn’t see that curtains served a purpose other than to keep out the light, which didn’t bother him.

The back half, where he stood, was home to six rooms, three upper and three lower. The balcony led to his master suite, a second bathroom, and Hope’s room. She was gone now, nothing but a memory, but he couldn’t part with any of her things. She would need them when she found him again. He had no doubt she would find him again. Destiny had a way of working those things out, even if it took a hundred years.

The lower floor had an extra bedroom he hoped would one day be a nursery for his offspring. It was full of junk now, but he would clean it out when the time was right. His compulsion wouldn’t countenance a room where everything was put away.

His compulsion had been a source of irritation for Hope. It would be for any woman. Hope had grown so tired of it that she placed a charm on him. It hadn’t worked.

When he had lived at his parents’ home, a maid had been employed for the express purpose of picking up after him. Not many people were aware of this peculiar habit of his. Now, years later, he didn’t have the heart to pick up after himself. His things were clean, just not put away. The clutter would drive any visitor away. Fortunately, he didn’t get visitors. Ever.

Throwing a change of clothes in the passenger seat of his pickup truck, Shade headed toward his brother’s place. Soren lived in the monstrosity of a home where they grew up, having inherited it when their father passed away. Though he was older by seven minutes, Shade did not begrudge Soren the home or the responsibilities that came with it. He visited often, keeping abreast of the news and of people’s lives, but he never accepted the open invitation to move back home.

Even if Soren hadn’t killed Hope on the sacred altar in the clearing near that house, Shade knew the small, hidden village of Lyton would never again be his home. His kin, his brethren, would never accept a witch as his mate, no matter what the Shadow Man attributed to destiny. They hadn’t accepted Hope, and they wouldn’t accept her when she was reborn.

The drive took nearly an hour. Shade didn’t own a phone, cell or otherwise, and he knew he was taking a chance Soren might not be home. It didn’t matter too much. Friends were always around.

Eventually, the trees parted to reveal the quaint town set into an Appalachian hillside. The town wasn’t on any maps. Overhead satellites weren’t able to locate it. Even the turnoff for the road to town was hidden. If a person didn’t know exactly where he wanted to go, he would never find his way. No stranger had ever set foot on their land, not in over two hundred years, unless he counted Hope.

Hands rose in greeting as Shade drove through the narrow streets of the town. He found out before he had gone a quarter mile that Soren was away on business, though no one knew what that business might be. Some speculated it might be a special woman, a theory others rejected outright. If Soren were going to find a mate, it would be one of his own kind. He would not disgrace the town or his family by marrying an outsider, and there were plenty of willing women in town to satisfy his baser needs. Half-breeds were not welcome.

Shade met the gossip with silent judgment. None of them understood why he chose to live so far away. They knew it wasn’t because Soren had won control of the house, the inheritance, and the town. The fight, though vicious and instigated by demons, had been fair. Both brothers sustained damage, but nothing permanent. Shade didn’t harbor resentment against Soren, just as Soren wouldn’t have resented Shade if the outcome had been the other way.

He might have killed him, but he wouldn’t have resented him.

Besides, that was decades before he ever met Hope. He wouldn’t have met her if not for the fight that drove him from Lyton.

The only problem most wolves had with an outsider was they tended to be human. Humans didn’t live long enough to make a relationship with them anything other than temporary. Besides, most humans weren’t built to sustain anything long term with a werewolf. They were far too frail to survive the multiple births and the hard life of the Appalachians. Triplets were as common among werewolf offspring as single births were to humans. Like males, female wolves were larger and heartier than their human counterparts, and they could easily handle having twins or triplets or more.

Turning a human was rarely an option, as most of them did not survive the process. Besides, prejudice against half-breeds was enough to send most decent people running the other way. Life for a half-breed was difficult for many reasons, not the least of which was the lack of a clear mentor or master. Left to their own devices, half-breeds typically did something to call attention to the fact that werewolves were not fiction. Then it was up to the pack to deal with the leak. It never ended well for the half-breed.

Soren was Shade’s closest friend and his biggest enemy. Headstrong and unbending, Soren provided the necessary leadership for the tiny village. However, Soren’s compulsion couldn’t help but come between them. His demons craved power. Hope had begged Shade to forgive Soren. She promised to return. Shade had done the best he could by his brother, but he still waited for Hope.

At any rate, Soren would be home by daybreak. He was most likely roaming the countryside in wolf form. Without the light of the moon, he would stay that way until daybreak. Shade parked his truck in the middle of the driveway that led from the break in the high stone fence surrounding Soren’s estate to the massive house. It would annoy Soren, but that was one of the perks of having a brother.

Opening the unlocked door, Shade headed directly to the kitchen. The staff would have the night off, so he expected an empty house. However, he smelled her the minute he walked in. Tiffany. They had been friends, lovers, and more.

“Does Soren know you’re in his house?” he called, his great voice booming through the cavernous halls.

Within moments, she appeared in the foyer, clad in a minimal amount of clothing. Shade surveyed her offering with cool detachment until she blushed and stammered. “I–I–I was hoping to surprise him.”

He lifted his thick black brows. “He’ll be surprised, but I’m not. It took you longer than I thought to switch your tactics.” Turning away from her, he continued his path into the kitchen.

She found him digging in the refrigerator for leftovers. Alethea, the housekeeper who had been there longer than the boys, was very good about leaving copious amounts of prepared food for both men.

Tall even for a female werewolf, Tiffany stood proud at six-seven. With her large blue eyes and pouty lips, she was more beautiful than any wolf Shade had encountered, and she knew it. Her honey-blond hair fell thickly to her waist. Like most women in their pack, she never cut it. Though human cuts and hairstyles never impacted her appearance as a wolf, Tiffany was a traditionalist. She wanted her life to unfold to reveal the exact fairy tales with which she had been raised, and marrying a prince was part of her plan. If that prince couldn’t be Shade, then she would settle for Soren.

After all, they weren’t so very different. Each man had height nearing seven feet and the proportionally thick muscles to carry it off. Both were exceptionally handsome, though in different ways. Shade was dark, all planes and shadows. His black hair fell in shaggy waves to his collar. Black brows winged thickly lashed, midnight blue eyes. His oval face hid secrets that made more than one woman want to dig deeper, and his lips were full and lush enough to entice them, even when his manner was aloof. His skin was tanned, but not darkly so.

Soren was light everywhere Shade was dark. Light blond locks covered his head, and sunlight glinted from the coarseness of the beard he periodically grew, then shaved away. His warm, friendly eyes were teal, standing out in startling contrast from his bronzed skin, inviting strangers close and friends closer. Where Shade was relentlessly serious, Soren always had a ready laugh.

Tiffany had initially been attracted to Shade’s intensity. Not long after she established a relationship with him, she found herself attracted more to Soren’s joviality.

“It isn’t what you think,” she said to Shade’s back. “Soren and I are…”

He set a covered plate of something that smelled like steak on the counter. “Fucking?” he finished for her. “You have to know you aren’t the only one.”