Bending Steele (6 page)

Steele reached out and caught her by the
shoulder, shaking her. “Get a grip. Where was this?”

“I don’t know. I just ran.”

“Could he have followed you here?” Steele’s
voice trembled a little over that last word and Hexe’s eyes
narrowed.

“You know something?”

Steele cut him a glance, but she didn’t
answer him. Her attention was pinned on the woman still kneeling in
front of him. She took a step closer, the threat of violence
filling her. “Could he have followed you here?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know!” She gripped
Hexe’s jeans tighter, her body starting to shake. “I bolted when he
started coming down… I watched though, he just sat down by Liam. He
had a knife; he didn’t look like he was going to follow me.”

Steele turned for the door and Hexe lurched
to catch her, grabbing the wrist with her knife out of habit. She
froze, her lips lifting in a hiss but he didn’t back down.
“Wait.”

“Mark or not, I’m not staying here.” But
there was nothing in her eyes that showed fear. Just anger—raw,
tormented fury that filled her, ricocheted through her gaze and
tore at him. This, this was part of her story. The part he needed
to know.

Hexe tightened his grip on her wrist. “We go
together.”

Something flashed in her eyes, surprise
maybe, but it was gone too fast for him to be sure. She started to
jerk away, to leave anyway, but he didn’t let her go. “Steele.
Wait. I’m going with you.”

He turned back to the woman still kneeling in
front of him. “Go home. Lock yourself in and don’t come out until
I’ve given word.”

Her lip trembled. “I don’t want to go
alone.”

Of course she didn’t. Hexe couldn’t blame
her, but she didn’t look like the kind of woman who wanted to go
hunt a killer. Steele on the other hand was damn near gnashing her
teeth over his command. Hexe blew out a sharp breath. “Then stay
here.”

He stepped away, moving for the door but she
scrambled after him. She caught the edge of his shirt and tried to
drag him back, raw terror flashing in her eyes. It tore at his
heart. She needed time, comfort. She’d seen something most people
would go their whole lives never having seen.

But he couldn’t afford the time to
linger.

Hexe caught her by her upper arms and hauled
her to her feet, placing her steadfast in front of him. His gaze
was firm when it met hers. “Stay here.”

“Don’t go. Please, please don’t leave me…”
Another sob escaped her and she reached for him, only to jerk to a
stop as Steele pressed a knife to her throat. There was nothing in
those gunmetal eyes that spoke of warmth, just cold
determination.

Steele stepped closer, forcing the woman back
a step. “Stay here or go home, but shut the fuck up so we can
go.”

Steele jerked the knife away and left the
other woman standing there. Her eyes were round with fear, but she
didn’t move as Steele jerked open the door and strode out into the
cold. She melded into the forest. The wind whipped snow around in a
blur and Hexe had to blink into the darkness before he spotted
Steele. Crouched along the edge of the house, she slipped into the
shadows of the forest. The sky had grown dusky with an oncoming
storm, darkness creeping in. Hexe followed, his front door swinging
shut behind him.

The woman inside didn’t so much as make a
peep in protest.

Steele’s boots left marks in the snow, easy
enough to track normally, but with the wind picking up, blasting
snow across the ground, they were fading fast. Hexe muttered a
curse and jogged after her. The howling gales of an oncoming storm
left the sky lighter than normal despite the evening hour, but when
it finally closed in, they’d be left outside in the dark, with a
blizzard moving in. The last thing he wanted to do was get stuck
out in a storm.

“Tell me what you know,” he said as he caught
up with her, stepping carefully into her tracks. An experienced
tracker would easily see two sets of prints, but with the wind and
darkness coming, they’d soon fade all together.

“Poacher.” Steele glanced back over her
shoulder, her eyes molten to the core. There was nothing left under
that anger, that fury. That look was almost enough to make him
stumble. Whoever they found tonight, Steele was going to kill.

“Why would a poacher carry silver? He would
know that Liam was human. He had to have seen them”

Her smile turned dark, wicked in the lack of
light. “He saw them. That’s why…” The muscle in her jaw flexed as
anger rippled through her, a flash fire that burned in her eyes as
she looked at him. “He’s not poaching for cat fur. The leopards are
rarer than us, but they’re easier to catch.”

She shook her head and the long, black tail
of her braid snapped in the wind. “He’s poaching for shifters. For
us
.”

“What the hell for?”

Steele crouched low as she tilted back her
head to scent. The wind swiveled towards them, bringing the scents
of the night to them. Hexe tipped his head back too and drank it
down. A marmot had passed by not too long ago, probably from one of
the cliff faces. A hare lay somewhere close.

Steele turned back to him. “Magick. Witches
and the like use them for sacrifices, skinwalkers like a new coat
every now and then. They’re worth a fortune to anyone willing to
dabble in the black arts.”

That was news to him. Steele started forward
again, and he realized she was tracking the redhead’s path up to
his house, just giving it a wide berth. Her eyes warily dancing
over the surrounding forest. He could be anywhere, armed with a gun
big enough to bring down a leopard and he was packing silver. A
shudder rolled through Hexe. This wasn’t the smartest thing he’d
ever done.

He stepped up alongside Steele, back stiff as
he scanned the surrounding area. “Well if he was poaching for
skins, why let one get away?”

“They have to be skinned immediately. He
didn’t have an option until he’d harvested the first. He’d be
stupid not to track a second though. We’re not exactly common.”
White teeth flashed back at him. Another smile, but there wasn’t
much about Steele that was friendly right now.

“You know an awful lot about this.”

If he’d thought she’d been cold before, he’d
been wrong. Steele went utterly still in front of him. Anger left
her eyes white hot and her smile turned into a snarl. Her knife
trembled slightly in her hand.

“One killed my mother.” The soft admission
came as a whisper, nearly lost to the empty air she spoke it so
low. “I made it my mission to know.”

Shit. He hadn’t… Hexe winced. “I’m
sorry.”

Steele jerked her head in a sharp nod.

“And your father?”

Her breath hissed out, a low snarl rippling
from her. Hands locked at her side, she leaned into him until Hexe
felt her breath wash over his lips. “He was a bastard who ran for
the hills. Just like that girl.”

She slashed out with her knife in the
direction of his house.

“He didn’t even look back while that man
butchered my mother.”

Raw pain stared out of her eyes and Hexe
wanted to tug her against his chest, hold her. But Steele didn’t
look like she wanted to be held. She slashed at the air again. “He
left her.”

Silver was fatal. A clean kill shot would
kill them instantly. A skilled hunter meant her mother never would
have had a chance. Hexe didn’t say it though; he wouldn’t take her
father’s side. Besides, if she’d been wounded, if there’d been any
hope of her being alive, then her mate should have stayed.
He
would have stayed. Hexe reached out, tentative, and
Steele shrunk back, lips curled in a snarl.

“And where were you, Steele?” he whispered.
There was no accusation in his voice, just understanding. He
knew
. By the haunted look that crossed her eyes, he
knew.

Steele swallowed, her body tensing as she
gulped down a breath of air, as if fighting back a scream. Hexe
reached for her again and this time she didn’t jerk away. His
fingertips found her jaw and they slid higher to find the wet
streak along her cheek made by her tears.

“I’m sorry.”

“I was right there. I hid in a goddamned
tree.”

Hexe made a sound low in his throat, gentle,
soothing, and he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to
him. Steele closed her eyes, but she refused to lean into him. “I
just watched her die. I didn’t run like my father, but I just sat
there and let that bastard kill her.”

“There was nothing you could do for her.”

“I could have slashed open his throat before
he butchered her. I could have killed him before he
skinned
her.”

A sharp gasp sounded from her and she leaned
into him, a tremble running straight through her. “I could
have...”

“Steele.” He breathed her name out, one hand
slipping behind her head to hold her to him. “How old were you? The
woman I’m holding now, she’d have done everything you said. But a
little girl?”

He dipped his head to brush a kiss over her
temple. Along her jaw.

“I was eight, but I’ve known how to use a
knife since I was six. My mother always taught me—”

“You were
eight
. That’s still a
child.” He pressed his face against hers, felt the cool touch of
her tears against his cheek. “There was nothing you could have
done. Not against a grown man. An armed man.”

He curved his hand around the back of her
neck, his thumb traced along the edge of her jaw before he pulled
away, tilting her face up to meet his. Her gray eyes were wet with
the sheen of tears. Hexe wanted to kiss them all away, but this
wasn’t a pain he could ease.

“And you’re nothing like the bastard that
left her to die. Your father...” He shook his head, a growl trailed
up his throat but he held it back. “He could have done everything
you want to do now. He
should
have stayed and protected his
daughter. You were a kid, Steele. You couldn’t save your mom, but
he damn well should have been there to save you.”

Hexe leaned into her, his forehead touching
hers before she could protest.

“And you have never let her down. I promise
you that. She wanted you safe, not dead. She’d be damn proud of the
woman you are now.” His thumb traced the edge of her lips. “A woman
who’s going to a hunt a man just like the bastard that killed your
mother. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

There was a heartbeat where she did nothing
but stare up at him, a small tear trailing down her right cheek. He
didn’t know what to say or do that would make her believe him.
Wounds that old wouldn’t heal just because some man wrapped his
arms around her and told her what he thought she needed to
hear.

Then she stretched up onto her tip toes and
pressed her lips to his. They were wet with her tears and it took
everything Hexe had not to deepen the kiss. His hand tightened
around her neck, holding her close, but he let her go the moment
she pulled back.

“Thank you.”

And everything in her metal colored eyes told
him she meant it.

Chapter
Six

Exhausted, Jacks hauled himself over the top
of the ledge, his gloves scrabbling for purchase in the snow as he
hurried away from the edge. He knelt, head upturned to the sky,
watching as his heavy breathing came out in white puffs that faded
into the darkness. It was dangerous to keep hunting this late, but
it finally looked as if he’d found flat ground for awhile.

And so had his prey.

The wind ran ragged up here, violent gusts
tossing up snow, but he could still see the faint outline of her
tracks. Distant thunder called, a rolling sound that shook through
the air, revitalizing him. “You can run, sweetheart...”

Jacks staggered to his feet, his legs shaky.
Breathless and exhausted from the climb and the thinning mountain
air, he stood there breathing deep into the dark. Snow buffeted
around his legs and he shifted his rifle to his other shoulder,
eyes scanning the shadows around him. This would all be worth it in
the end. Enough money to make his family happy for forever. All he
had to do was haul ass for a little bit longer, nab his cat, and
then buckle down for one more night in this winter hellhole.

The furs from these shifters were damn near
unheard of. Even the best poachers didn’t normally try and nab a
shifter, let alone trek through mountains like these to get an
elusive snow leopard. Too many people considered them still human.
Hell, back home they had laws and their own personalized police
force. Everything to make shifters
sound
human. But at
heart, they were animals.

As far as Jacks was concerned, they were
animals too. And no one gave a rat’s ass if you shot a rabbit.
These just paid better than the average hunt. Jacks could only
remember two of these furs hitting the market in the past thirty
years. And one of them had been his.

Another pair back then too, but the male had
gotten away.

A shame. The males had the bigger pelts and
therefore the bigger price tags. Not that he could whine over the
score he’d made from the female. He’d traveled the world on that
paycheck. Set himself up nicely. Met his wife. About time
everything came full circle now. A grin slashed his face as he
hiked through the calf-deep snow, the cold slowly nibbling down to
his bones.

Back aching, Jacks studied the prints and
labored after them. She’d run in long, leaping bounds as she’d come
up over the edge of the cliff, but a good fifty feet in and she’d
shifted, her strides shortening to the booted foot tracks of a
woman on the run. She wove through the forest and he could see
where she’d stumbled, thrashing through snow banks and over ferns
bent heavy with ice.

Slipping on his snowshoes, he plowed after
her. Careful to keep quiet, Jacks strained to hear over the wind
rattling through the old pines. Cold needles scraped at his face as
he did his best to angle his way through the darkness without
snaring himself on various branches. A voice sounded in the
darkness and he paused, head tilted.