Blood Rights [Wicked River 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (15 page)

BOOK: Blood Rights [Wicked River 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)
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“You loved it,” Moira said, tossing his earlier words back at him.

Rolling to the side, he tugged her down between him and Koba. Then he pulled them both into his arms, kissing Moira’s brow and lacing his fingers through Koba’s hair. Maybe if he held on tight enough, the rest of the world would fade away, leaving them to go about their lives in peace.

They needed to shower and get some rest, but he couldn’t bring himself to let go. If there was one thing the last twelve hours had taught him, it was moments like these were not guaranteed. Hopefully there would be a thousand more of them in their lifetimes, and Brock swore he would never take a single one of them for granted.
 

Chapter Thirteen

 

Leaning back against the counter, Moira bumped her shoulder against Callan’s and grinned from ear to ear as she watched the men dancing around her kitchen. Brock twirled Koba, spinning him into his arms and swaying to the beat of the music floating from the stereo on the island counter.

Casey grabbed Joss around the waist, turned him quickly, and dipped him, growling playfully as he bit down lightly on his neck. “What are you waiting for?” She pointed toward the pair as she glanced at Callan. “Go get them.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Biting his bottom lip and ducking his head, Callan looked so shy and unsure.

After a week of quiet, it was hard to remember that they were all waiting on imminent danger to drop on their doorstep. So far, the promise had been kept, though. Moira hadn’t tried to run, and in return, their enemies hadn’t attacked. Even things in town were quiet—no farm animals mauled, no people missing, and no strange, unexplainable occurrences.

Moira wasn’t the type to tuck her tail between her legs and run, but even if she’d wanted to, it wasn’t possible. No one had tried to slaughter them in their sleep, but that didn’t mean they weren’t being watched day and night. Lycans prowled the pack lands during the day, while the Walkers took the night shift, ensuring there was no chance to flee.

Unable to really leave the house, she’d used the time to practice and hone her new powers. She’d spent hours with Casey, learning everything she could about demons. While they’d covered a lot of topics in demonology, there was still too much she didn’t know. The main question that had yet to be answered was why everyone hated her kind so much.

When she wasn’t absorbing knowledge from Casey, Koba was teaching her all he knew about being an omega. They practiced influencing moods, which was fun when they were doing it to each other or Brock—not so much when she’d tried it on Joss earlier in the week. Apparently there was a fine line between excitement and anger. At least he’d repaired the hole he’d punched in the living room wall.

She was getting better at shutting out other people’s thoughts. They still slipped in occasionally when she was distracted or upset, but she hadn’t passed out again. The main issue she was having was shifting into her wolf skin. They all said she should be able to since she was part lycan, but so far, no luck.

“Hello, my lovely lady.” Koba picked her up off her feet and swung her in a circle. “May I have this dance?”

“Why, of course, good sir,” Moira answered with a sophisticated air while thickening her Southern accent.

There was a knock at the front door, but Brock waved her away when she started forward to answer it. “I got it.”

With coverings over every window to protect her and Callan from the direct sunlight, it was hard to tell what time of day it was without a clock, but she was sure it was close to sundown. A glance toward the display on the stove confirmed her suspicions, and she couldn’t help but wonder who was visiting so late.

“We’re supposed to be having fun,” Koba chastised her lightly, giving her a little swat on the butt. “You’re going to hurt my feelings.”

He was right. Whoever it was, Brock would take care of it. So, she wrapped her arms around Koba’s neck and molded herself to his chest, letting him dip and sway her to the music. Casey had finally coaxed Callan out of his corner and currently had him sandwiched between him and Joss. Callan still looked uncertain, but with a subtle tint of hopefulness.

“This is nice,” she whispered, rubbing her cheek against Koba’s shoulder and sighing in contentment.

Koba held her tenderly, pressing one hand against the small of her back and cupping her nape with the other, massaging the tense muscles in her neck. “Things won’t be bad forever, Moira. We’ll get through this. Consider us a…a work in progress.”

“Something smells amazing,” an unfamiliar male voice said from behind her. “I’m starving.” Tall and muscled with long dark hair, he wore an easy smile as he stepped into the kitchen.

“You’re always hungry.” An even bigger man appeared behind the first, with sleek blond hair tied back in a ponytail.

The room was becoming far too crowded, and Moira’s anxiety peaked, making her feel nervous and jittery. “I know you.” It couldn’t be who she thought it was, though. How did they know? Why where they there?

“Damon Lewis,” the blond answered, eyeing her shrewdly.

“Tatum Jennings, but you can call me Tate.” The other guy winked at her and dipped his head. “I’m going to guess you’re Moira.”

“Why? How? I mean…” It was getting harder to breathe, and it suddenly felt far too warm. “Is she…is she here?”

Damon and Tate parted, standing on either side of the doorway, and rested their hands on their hips in identical poses. A petite brunette glided into the room, smiling cautiously when her gaze found Moira. “Hello.”

“Ryah.” She’d spent so many years watching over her sister, doing what she could to keep her away from people who would want to harm her. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Is that all you have to say to me?” Oh, there was fire lurking in that deceptively innocent face. “Well, I am here. So, I suggest you pull that huge stick out of your ass and at least pretend to be happy, because I’m not going anywhere.”

“It’s not safe here. You have to go.” Moira turned on her sister’s mates with a growl. “Why would you bring her here?” She’d spent half of her life protecting Ryah. Dragging the girl into the lions’ den now seemed a bit counterproductive.

“Hey,” Damon said, holding his hands up in surrender. “I get a call that says be here, so here I be.”

“Where’s the baby?” Moira’s stomach twisted painfully at the thought of something happening to her niece.

“Home,” Ryah answered shortly. “She’s safe. Her daddies have an entire army guarding her while we’re away.” She shuffled a little closer, her eyes becoming red and glossy. “You are the only family I have. I’m not leaving if you’re in trouble.”

Tatum cleared his throat and arched an eyebrow in question. “The only family? What am I? Chopped tuna?”

“Hush.” Ryah waved a hand at him but kept her eyes on Moira. “You know what I meant. Don’t be such a girl.”

“I
really
like her,” Koba said in a stage whisper to Brock.

“Go check on dinner and like her from over there.”

Damon chuckled as he leaned one shoulder against the doorjamb. “I guess we know where Ryah gets her temper.”

“I will throw something heavy at your head,
dear.
” Ryah folded her arms over her chest and glared. “Go away.”

“Can we please go?” Poor Callan looked like he was going to toss his cookies all over the tiled floor.

“Uh, yeah, good idea.” Casey ushered his mates out through the back door, following swiftly behind them.

“I think I heard something in that general direction.” Tatum jerked his thumb toward the living room, ducked his head, and disappeared around the corner.

“I don’t know what trouble you’re in, but I want to help.” A single tear overflowed from the corner of Ryah’s eye, trickling down her soft cheek. “Let me help. Or at least give me a chance to know you.”

Coming face-to-face with something she’d wanted her entire life was making her weak, but Moira craved that. She wanted to really know her sister, not just watch over her from a distance. Placing one foot in front of the other, she met Ryah halfway, crushing the woman in her arms as she battled back her own tears. “I’m so proud of you, baby girl, and sorry you were alone for so long.”

Ryah held her just as tightly, sniffling quietly against her shoulder. “Thank you, Moira.”

“Okay.” Moira eased away and wiped roughly at her eyes. “Well, the first thing we should do is feed these men before they start gnawing on the furniture.”

“Knowing Tate, it’s already too late.”

“I heard that!” Tatum yelled from the other room.

Moira fell against her sister and giggled, still nervous, but feeling strangely optimistic. It wasn’t over, and nothing had been written in stone. She wanted Ryah as far away from Mission Landing as possible come the full moon. Just then, she could use all the support she could get, though.

 

* * * *

 

“You could have told me.”

Brock glanced at him over his shoulder and sighed. “Could you have kept it from her? I know she can’t help it, but with Mo rummaging around in our heads, secrets are a rare commodity.”

Koba didn’t exactly see that as a bad thing. “She had the right to know. You didn’t have to just drop it in her lap like that.”

Pausing with his hand on the knob of the back door, Brock turned to face him fully. “Yes, I did. You saw how she reacted. If I’d told her before Ryah got here, she would have freaked out and done something stupid. Mo has spent most of her life keeping that girl safe. If she thought sacrificing herself would spare Ryah, she would do it in a heartbeat.”

“Then why bring her here? Why risk it?”

“We need them!” Brock shouted. “They have information we need. They’re three more able bodies to fight against the Walkers. And…if something happens to us, I don’t want Moira to be alone again.”

Realistically, Koba knew there was little chance of them winning. He’d been fortunate to get out of that basement. He wasn’t so sure they’d be that lucky a second time. “Have you talked to the Elders?” There were four other teams located in different Regions along the east coast. If the biggest threat was in their front yard, surely it made sense to dispatch those teams to Alabama.

“Yes.” He didn’t elaborate, and Koba didn’t think he’d get anything further by badgering. It hurt a little, and pissed him off a bit more. They were supposed to be a team, but how could he help if Brock was keeping secrets?

“Where are you going?”

Brock already had the door open and was inching his way out onto the deck. “Damon is meeting me at the barn so I can introduce them to the team.”

And they can discuss the situation away from prying ears.
Apparently Koba had been voted off the team, but everyone had neglected to tell him. “Casey?”

“Taking our guest down to the barn. Then Joss is going to take him and Callan to his place.”

“Well, I guess you shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

“We’ll talk in the morning.” Then he disappeared, closing the door with a snap.

“He’s scared.” Moira entered the kitchen with her hands laced together in front of her. “He’s not handling it very well, but he’s doing what he thinks he has to do to protect us. Don’t be too hard on him, Koba. He doesn’t mean to shut you out.”

“Damon made Tate stay, too,” Ryah added as she stepped up beside her sister. “He’s sulking in the bedroom. I agree it’s frustrating. They just love us so much that they go a little crazy when they think about losing us.”

“Brock doesn’t think you’re weak, Koba.” Taking a small step forward, Moira held her hand out, beckoning him to take it. “He’s just incapable of realizing that he doesn’t have to save the world on his own.”

Yeah, that sounded like Brock. He carried the weight of the world on his shoulders and refused to share the burden. In the strange workings of his alpha brain, Brock had appointed himself their guardian, demanding he take the full brunt of what they faced.

“Yeah, well, I still don’t like it.”

“I don’t, either,” Moira agreed.

“Boys are dumb,” Ryah grumbled under her breath with a cute little scowl on her face.

“Hey!”

“Well, you are,” she insisted. “Brock and Damon are pushing us away for our own good, or so they think. You and Tate are pouting like a couple of toddlers instead of doing something about it.” Her tiny hands fisted on her hips, and she actually growled at him. “It’s exhausting.”

Koba bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing when Tate appeared out of nowhere, grabbed Ryah off her feet, and whisked her down the hallway. The female didn’t go quietly, though, and he could still hear her cussing him up and down well after the bedroom door closed. Suddenly, the yelling and screeching stopped, replaced by the very distinct sounds of more loving pursuits.

“I need a shower.” Backing away with a shake of her hips and sexy pout on her lips, Moira crooked her finger at him, letting him know without words what she really wanted.

He’d be an idiot to turn down such a blatant invitation, but he still hesitated. It was the first time he’d really been alone with her, though. Logically, he knew they weren’t doing anything wrong, but his thoughts strayed to Brock.

“Baby, you’re sweet, but you’re overthinking it. Would you be jealous if Brock was here and you weren’t?”

No, he wouldn’t, but that was kind of the point. Moira was his mate in every sense of the word, but he knew she had a past with Brock well before he’d come into the picture. Sometimes he had trouble viewing them as a triad, because there was still part of him that thought of Moira as Brock’s and felt like he was encroaching.

“You think I didn’t feel that way at first?” She crooked her finger again. “It’s not me and Brock, or you and Brock. The three of us have something special, Koba, something a lot of people wait their whole lives for. I love Brock. He’s always been The One. There’s no rule saying a person only gets one shot at happiness, though. We were just lucky enough to have a second chance without screwing up the first one.”

It was a strange, convoluted statement, but Koba understood what she was trying to say. He didn’t divide his love between his mates. He loved Brock with his whole heart, and when Moira came into his life, his heart had simply grown to include her as well. There was no his, hers, or mine. “Stay out of my head.” There was no heat in his voice, though, and he even winked to show he was playing.

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