Guilt is a dangerous emotion. It’s not one I used to experience before Sara either. I can’t deny its crippling effects, however. Especially when my true mate can see right through my actions. But giving her the hope we might soul-bond tonight seemed kinder than feeling her disappointment at the truth.
We don’t have time to devote to going through the process of bonding, then healing. Finding my almost beheaded blood brother sealed our fate. Death has arrived, and it’s lurking in the shadows, waiting.
I even know how it’ll strike. Ezra’s and Daegan’s unresponsive bodies are the taunting evidence of a confident killer. He’ll take out any protector I have or Soren has, then simply swoop in and end our lives. Had Ezra not been so stubborn and strong, Soren might’ve lost his life already. I can only hope the sheer number of Winchester pack males congregated around the home where I left the keeper of my heart and the innocent life we’ve been entrusted with is enough to deter my enemies until I can eliminate the threat to us once and for all.
My phone dings with Sara’s response to my text. I exhale in relief. Both Sara and Soren are fine. They both got several hours of sleep and something to eat. With those details easing my worry for their well-being, I tuck my cell phone in the cup holder of my car, then reach for the door handle. I don’t want any distractions, emotional or physical, for this meeting.
“You’re wise not to have soul-bonded to your true mate yet.”
Jarah’s voice stops me from opening the door.
“You have no way of knowing if I’ve soul-bonded to Sara or not.” Though if anyone saw the bite mark on her shoulder, they’d probably assume I had.
“Sure I do. True mates wouldn’t need to text each other. A single thought would connect their minds.” Jarah shoves my phone in the glove box before opening the passenger door. “And as I said, it’s a wise decision. If you die, Soren will have someone to raise him.”
If anything, Jarah’s stark and pessimistic views on life have not changed. I shake my head. “Assuming I’ll die already?”
“No.” Deep creases form on Jarah’s brow. “I said if you die.”
Technically, true. Jarah did use that qualifier, but… “A little confidence in me or hope that I’ll rescue Gabriel and overcome the threats to my pack would be nice.”
Jarah snorts. He opens the door, takes the bottle of ambrosia we’ve brewed from the backseat, and rounds the hood. Once my door is closed behind me, he steps next to me. “Hope and confidence are for fools.”
“Then I suppose I’m a fool.” My grandmother would be the first to tell me that. I’ve fallen into the trap of love. Despite knowing I’d be stronger with a soul bond to Sara, I keep finding excuses not to irrevocably tie her eternity to mine. No, not excuses. Truths. It’s true we don’t have time to soul-bond. That’s my fault. I wasted years trying to protect Sara.
“A fool is a man without a backup plan.” Jarah falls into step with me as we make our way across the yard. “And I approve of yours. Sara would be a fierce protector of the last Kane member if you fail. I also have little doubt she’d avenge you.”
“Sara’s human. She’s also mortal without a soul bond to me. She might have the desire to avenge me, but she’d only end up getting herself killed and leaving Soren without someone to raise him if I fail.” I’ll have to find a way to bring this up and discourage such a reckless action, because Jarah’s right. Sara would fight for me. She’s already proven she’d kill for Soren if necessary.
“Do you have such little faith in your true mate?”
I cut a quick glance at Jarah. “Sara has the strongest, kindest, most beautiful soul of any female walking on this earth, but she’s also confined by the limitations of her body. That doesn’t lessen her worth or my faith in her. Her mortality and limited physical strength are facts neither of us can deny.”
Movement from the cabin draws my eye to the window. Owen’s wide chest fills the opening from the parted curtain. With his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face, he doesn’t look too happy with the idea of entertaining visitors.
Jarah stops and stares for a long moment at the single shifter who’s been bonded to my alpha, then turns his back on Owen, a blatant dismissal, and faces me, blocking me from Owen’s sight. “Any weakness can be used to overcome an enemy, and your Sara can exploit hers to her advantage. Most shifters would use the same rationale you have, dismissing her as a threat. That’d be their downfall if she plans the strike against them well. I doubt she’d get more than one chance, though. She’d have to be successful on her first attempt.”
Had Sara known how to shoot a gun, she would’ve taken out the lion shifter with a single bullet. That male had dismissed her as a threat, approaching her and Soren head-on.
I turn my face to the moon, allowing the rays to warm my soul. I should never have questioned my grandmother’s choice in females. Things might’ve turned out differently had I trusted in her. The past can’t be changed, though. I chose to protect Sara from me. It is what it is now.
“But it’s a risk I wouldn’t want my true mate to take.” I meet Jarah’s focused stare. He’s judging my actions and my words. It’s not personal. Jarah has spent thousands of years judging people and situations in order to pick out the truths. “And it’s not a situation I plan on exposing her to. If we can’t connect to Gabriel through Owen, we need to explore other options. Brock had come to this area to meet with Xander, exposing himself to danger and dying as a result, for a reason. As obsessed as Brock was with finding Gabriel, I’m inclined to believe Xander might know more than he’s saying about my alpha’s location.”
Jarah’s unblinking gaze holds mine for so long I’m tempted to speak again, but finally, he inclines his head. “The word that has reached me about Gabriel has come from a witch who’s escaped the facility where Gabriel is being held. She has ties to this area.”
“She knows where my alpha is?” With rage flowing through me and awakening my wolves, I step closer to Jarah and lower my voice to a threatening growl. “Why haven’t you shared this knowledge?”
“I don’t have the knowledge you seek, my son. If I did, I would’ve gone after your alpha myself, saving you from this threat.”
“Then Xander does?” Which makes me question my decision to leave Sara in the Winchester pack’s care.
“Not likely, unless his younger brother knows more than his true mate let on.”
Jarah’s talking in circles, dropping little bits of information each time he opens his mouth. Out of all the people in my life, I would’ve thought the ancient male who raised me would know me well enough not to dance around hard truths. I take another step closer to Jarah. A deep inhale will press our chests together. “Talk to me, Jarah. Which of Xander’s younger brothers are you referring to? He has several. And how do you know of this witch? Can you put me in touch with her?”
“The witch is Eli’s true mate. She came to the Host’s chambers begging Connal, Teague, and me to vote down any request to end Eli’s life. Once she realized we wouldn’t make such a promise, the woman clammed up, then promptly disappeared. The details I shared with you are the ones she gave in her attempt to manipulate us.”
“Eli.” My gaze strays to the moon again, gratitude for my goddess overwhelming me. She’s guided me in ways I haven’t realized. “Eli’s my newest protégé.”
“You’ve taken a feral male as your student?”
The shock in Jarah’s voice is clear. I glance at him. “Eli’s salvageable. I also have his blood vow to guarantee his compliance.”
Jarah looks over his shoulder. The curtain is closed. He steps to the side, exposing my face to the male who’s likely still watching us even if he’s no longer visible. The front door has a peephole. “Then perhaps we want to explore that route and leave this male to his insanity. Unlike your protégé, he’s unsalvageable. Death is kinder for him.”
I don’t agree with Jarah’s assessment of Owen’s state of mind or his fate, but the deliberately spoken words while facing the house have a purpose. At the moment, I can’t imagine what it’d be other than to anger this male who’s been unwillingly bonded to my alpha.
“I care little about Owen’s mental state as long as he remains breathing.” I move forward, closing in on the cabin I’d visited not long ago.
The door opens before I step onto the stoop. Arms crossed over his chest, Owen leans against the doorjamb. “What? No escorts today? Or doesn’t Ethan know you’re here?”
“Do you have so little faith in your pack?” I motion behind me to my parked car. “The only road out here is the one that goes directly in front of your alpha’s home.”
Owen doesn’t look in the direction I’ve indicated. He stares at me. Not Jarah. Me. I can’t help think his dismissal of the ancient male standing next to me is deliberate. “Why are you here?”
“We came to share a little drink and talk.” Jarah raises the bottle of ambrosia. “I was told you might have stories to tell.”
Owen slides his attention to Jarah, but he doesn’t meet the ancient’s eyes. He focuses on the bottle Jarah holds. “I don’t want any of that stuff. Shove it up your ass and get out of here.”
Jarah lifts the bottle in front of his face and studies the dark liquid inside the clear, corked bottle. “But I spent hours brewing this stuff. I’d hate to waste it on my ass, especially considering I’m not a lover of men and shoving anything into my rectum will not be pleasurable.”
Raw, vulgar curses fall from Owen’s mouth. Hands balled into fists, he strides forward, then abruptly comes to a jerking stop. Nostrils flaring, Owen steps back, likely inside the safe range allowed by the band on his leg. “I’m in no mood to play games with anyone, especially a bear. You should all be put down.”
Jarah inclines his head. “My brethren do carry a poor reputation, don’t they?”
“What?” Owen jerks his chin at Jarah. “Are you going to tell me you’re not into torturing and exploiting those weaker than you? I thought that was the standard bears act on.”
“Those who exhibit those qualities, no matter their species, are a disgrace to their ancestors and their goddess if they so happen to have one.” Jarah presses his palm to his chest. “And considering I have a direct line of communication with my mother, I would rather not disappoint my goddess. She’s not exactly nice. More of a bitch, actually.”
While I’ve witnessed the disdain for Jarah based on his skin color and for the animals he harbors within him many times, I’m always impressed by his calm responses, even if they’re only outwardly given.
“You’re a firstborn?” Owen narrows his eyes, studying Jarah with a fresh perspective. “I thought they were all spirits now, trapped in their descendants’ souls.”
“Bonded, not trapped. Most first alphas appreciate that tie to this world and those they’ve come to consider theirs. Shifters are a possessive lot.” Jarah walks forward, not slowing his steps as he approaches Owen. The other male steps to the side, allowing Jarah inside. “But that’s only possible for those firstborns who went on to establish a family. I have not. There are many like me who have not. It’s not a fate every shifter wants. Those who have not chosen to breed live on as ancient sentinels and watchful eyes of the heavens.”
I catch the door as it closes behind Jarah and slip into the room, quietly taking up a position in the shadows. Owen’s attention is on Jarah now, allowing me the moment to judge this man who’s tied to Gabriel.
Sara’s question has been lingering in my mind. Who decides whose life matters more? I can’t help but wonder if my response was the proper one. Familiarity should not be the sole basis of a decision. It’s only the one that feels right.
“If you are that old, no story I can tell will be interesting.” Owen opens the front door a second time and steps to the side. “You might as well leave.”
“Don’t be so quick to assume I know everything.” Jarah sets the bottle of ambrosia on the table I sat at not long ago and walks into the kitchen.
Owen cuts a quick look at where I’m standing against the wall, then kicks the front door closed before heading toward the kitchen.
Jarah steps out with three glasses before Owen can enter, then sets the glasses on the wooden surface with a hard thump and pulls out a chair. Instead of sitting, he looks at Owen. “Do you mind?”
Owen shrugs. “I don’t own this place. I’m just being kept here.”
“Against your will.” Jarah sits and kicks out the chair next to him, a silent invitation for Owen to join him.
Owen stares at the chair for a minute, then sits. “It’s been a long time since I’ve made my own decisions.”
I take the empty chair to the right of Jarah. “Since before you were ambushed and forced into slavery.”
“Yeah.” Owen drops his elbows to the table. “Since then, I’ve been nothing more than a puppet.”
“Especially when Gabriel Kane takes over your body.” Jarah delivers the statement matter-of-factly, then reaches for the bottle of ambrosia. The nail of his forefinger darkens and lengthens into a modified version of a bear’s claw. He shoves it into the cork and pops it out.
Owen’s nostrils flare as the sweet, rich smell of ambrosia fills the room. “Gabriel? Is that his name?”
“You didn’t know?” I’d assumed as much from our earlier conversation.
Owen shakes his head. “That’s why you grilled me earlier.”
“Yes.” I lean forward. “Do you recognize me now?”
“No.”
“But I bet Gabriel is eager to talk to his brother.” Jarah plants his elbows on the table, matching Owen’s pose. “Do you feel him moving in your soul, trying to exert himself over you?”
For a long moment, Owen stares at Jarah. “I have control over my soul.”
“Until you lose it, right?” Jarah’s tone is challenging, demanding. “Your inhibitions need to drop or your primal instincts need to spike, leaving you on edge. Then all it’ll take is a little push from Gabriel to topple you into the darkness and allow him to emerge.”
“You talk like a man who knows things, knows what’s been done to me.” Owen lowers his head, his glare hardened and threatening. “Only those who worked at that place I was kept know these things.”
“I talk like a man who understands what it’s like to share his soul with someone else.” Jarah thumps his chest. “I have a tie with my goddess. She’s always there, hovering in the background, influencing me in subtle ways.”
“You’re immortal because of it.” The disdain in Owen’s voice is thick.
“And you’re immortal because of Gabriel,” Jarah shoots back.
“But if you lose him or your soul tears, you won’t be immortal. You’ll die.” I prop my elbows on the table. “You don’t strike me as a man who’s ready to die. Are you, Owen?”
“No.” Owen’s single word holds a wealth of emotion. He has a reason to remain in this realm. I’d bet money on it.
I lower my voice, letting the compulsion to comply seep into my tone. “Then let us talk to Gabriel. See what he knows.”
Owen stares at me for several long moments. “I won’t give up my life for him. If it comes to it, I’ll ensure we both die.”
Sara’s question repeats in my head. Who has the right to decide who lives or dies? “That’s not my decision to make. My hope is that you and Gabriel can work something out.”
“You won’t know until you can connect with him.” Jarah lifts the bottle of ambrosia and inhales deeply. “At the moment, there’s only one way to do so.”
“Drink that stuff.” Owen eyes the bottle Jarah holds with equal amounts of need and disgust.
“Yes.” Jarah pours the dark purple liquid into the glasses, unevenly favoring Owen’s glass, then slides it closer to him. “And if you listen closely to the whispers in your mind as it works through you, you’ll become powerful.”
“That’s a line of nonsense if I ever heard one.” Owen laughs, but he wraps his fingers around the glass.
“No, not a line.” Jarah takes a sip from his drink. “A promise. This stuff is what the first shifters drank. It allowed them into the heavens. Gave them strength beyond comprehension. Pleasure without bounds.”
Owen lifts the glass and tips it, letting the liquid coat his lips but not drinking. “But at what cost?”
“Their souls. Their willpower.” Jarah takes another drink, a large swallow that leaves his eyes unfocused. “But yours are already gone. Aren’t they, Owen? You have nothing left to lose.”
Owen doesn’t respond. He stares into the dark liquid as if he can uncover the answers from the tempting drink.
“Silence won’t save you, Owen.” Jarah gulps the rest of his drink and sets the glass down. “But maybe Gabriel can. Let us talk to him.”
With Owen’s gaze on me, he drains the full glass and reaches for the bottle, filling his glass again. “Drink up, Ilan. The damned loves company, and you’re about as screwed as I am because I lied. I do recognize you. I also recognize your pack’s spirit. It’s tied to me too.”