Coveted (13 page)

 Chapter Fourteen

A
iden should have known
that a harpy hid under that angelic appearance. She promised him kisses and
pleasure, then stole it back from him before he had a chance to show her how
perfect they could be together.

The way things were going,
she’d rather stab him than offer to help rescue his men. He needed a way to tame
her. Or the very least, prevent anyone from harming her until the threat was gone,
then he’d have no reason to keep her. His wolf rose beneath his skin, baring
his fangs in protest, pressing his paws against Aiden’s chest until breathing
became difficult.

As he entered the
hall, the few whispers that lingered in the air vanished, the silence smacking
him in the face. Aiden jerked his mind from the woman to see every man in the
castle, some forty of them, packed within the walls.

Watching him.

“Well?” Mac was the
one who spoke, his casual posture belying the tension holding the room hostage.

“Well, what?” Aiden
couldn’t suppress his snarl. He marched toward the main seat at the head table,
plopped down and filled his plate, no longer hungry.

“Is she one?”

The gulp of wine he
took slide down the wrong pipe. Aiden coughed and slammed down the cup. “One
what?”

“Is she one of the
Beloved?” Mac pushed away from the wall.

Aiden ducked his head
to avoid his friend’s too-perceptive gaze. “How the hell am I supposed to know?
It’s not like I can ask her.”

He stabbed at the
food, shoving it into his mouth, but nothing could rid him of the taste of her
on his lips from the all-too-brief kiss he’d stolen.

“She has you chasing
your tail like a pup. What did you do?” That came from one of the oldest of the
group, McHenry.

Aiden clamped his jaw
shut, refusing to be baited.

“You kissed the lass.”

No, he didn’t, not
really, and that pissed him off all the more. Aiden’s scowl deepened, his
fingers clamped down until the fork was reduced to a tangled ball of metal in
his hand. It landed on the table with a dull thud. “Leave it alone.”

“Did you claim her,
lad?”

“No.” And that’s what
pissed him off most. He still wanted her, ached to have her back in his arms.
He replayed the incident over and over, trying to pinpoint when he’d lost
control.

After careful
consideration, he had to admit the defining moment appeared to have been the
instant she literally dropped into his life.

“Then she is still
available.”

Aiden’s head snapped
up, his wolf shoving forward to push home the command. “She will not be
touched.”

“Of course not. The
woman has the right to choose her mate.” McHenry waved away Aiden’s glower. “I’m
an old man, too old for love. I’m sorry she won’t have you, but she’s too
important for the pack to dismiss.”

Muscles bunched under
his skin as he struggled to resist the urge to leap the distance between them
and rip into the old fart.

“If what we suspect
is true, the other alphas must be informed.” Mac spoke low, so only Aiden heard.

“I’m in charge of
protecting this pack. It’s too dangerous for them to return. We can’t risk one
of them being taken captive. Besides, only one alpha can be in residence at a
time.” The longer the alphas remained in close proximity to each other, the
more they fought for dominance. By the end of a week, none of them would be
able to be in the same room without coming to blows.

Aiden clenched his
fists at the thought of Duncan or Cam anywhere near Shayla. Duncan was their
figurehead, a charmer who never had a problem seducing women into or out of
anything. Cam, their financier, had the wits to stay two steps ahead of his
prey. He could give women what they wanted before they even voiced their desires.

Aiden was the brute
strength of their triad—a glorified thug.

The very caveman
she’d accused him of being.

Aiden lurched to his
feet, the chair scraping across stone. The walls closed in on him. The need to
run surged through him, but he refused to leave Shayla alone. The trapped
feeling made him as cantankerous as a cat in heat. He needed to work off the excess
energy before he did something stupid.

Like beg Shayla to
give him a second chance.

“Outside. Training
yard.” A match with his men was just what he needed. Maybe he would even be
able to forget about Shayla for a few precious seconds of peace.

As he strode out the
door, his wolf whiffled, amused at the futility of his wish. Aiden stripped off
his shirt, flexed his shoulders, ready to beat the crap out any man that dared to
think they deserved a chance with his Shayla.

They would have to go
through him to get to her.

* * *

He’d left the door
unlocked.

Shayla bit her
thumbnail, debating the wisdom of venturing beyond their rooms. Of escape. It
was light out. She could make it to town.

Yet she hesitated.

Again.

Aiden had never hurt
her. He might have dragged her across country while being chased by hounds and
men alike, but he could’ve left her to the not-so-tender mercy of their
pursuers at any time. Instead, he’d kept her safe, sheltered her at great risk
to himself.

If she left, she
would be looking over her shoulder at every man who passed, wondering if they
were after her. She was safe here. But that wasn’t what caused her to pause.
She had always been able to take care of herself.

No, she hesitated
because of him.

He would never admit
it, but she’d hurt him with her cruel taunts.

She had two choices. Remain
a prisoner of a sexy man determined to keep her safe, one who had the power to
kiss her senseless…or face possible death?

Decisions, decisions.

It was time to talk
to Aiden, discover the truth. They made a good team. She just had to convince
him of the error of his way.

After she apologized.

Taking a deep breath
for courage, Shayla slipped into the hallway, surprised when no alarm blared to
report her transgression.

Indeed, there were no
sounds or people at all.

She reached the
bottom of the stairs and peered into the room. It was as if the inhabitants of
the castle had disappeared. Feeling like an interloper, Shayla rubbed her arms
and eyed the door, second-guessing her decision with freedom in her grasp.

Cheers erupted in the
distance. Curiosity got the better of her, and Shayla allowed herself to be
lured away. Following the noise to a side door, she trailed out into a yard
that had been transformed into an obstacle course. A circle of men stood in the
center.

She came to a stop
next to one of the youngest men there. “What’s happening?”

“Training.” He responded
automatically, then glanced up at her. And blushed so profusely that his face
matched his flaming red hair. He took a giant step back, as if terrified of
accidently touching her.

Burn scars twisted up
the side of his face. The injury had turned waxy as it healed, and she smiled
when he ducked his head away from her perusal. “Training for what?”

The kid gaped at her,
his mouth hanging opened as he floundered about what to say. An older man in
front of them turned, a sparkle lighting his eyes when he saw her. “That would
be Connor. He’s a wee bit shy around pretty lassies such as yourself. As to the
training, we’re a bunch of old fools burning off steam. They call me McHenry.”

Shayla couldn’t help
smiling back at his roguish grin. The old man had shoulder length salt and
pepper hair with a single braid at each temple. He vibrated with vitality.
Covered in worn and scarred leather, she’d swear that he’d just stepped through
time from three hundred years ago. “I’m Shayla.”

Shayla stood on
tiptoes to get a better view, and McHenry elbowed those around him to give her
room. The eye-popping sight of Aiden and Mac stripped down to their pants
caused her to gawk like a she’d never seen a man before.

And maybe she hadn’t,
at least not one like Aiden.

The men grappled back
and forth, evenly matched despite the size differences. Aiden stood taller and
leaner due to his recent captivity. Mac was shorter, if you could call being
over six feet short, and broader in the shoulders.

They broke apart,
prowling around each other, circling as they watched for an opening. There was
a savage grace in the way they moved that compelled her.

Then she saw their
eyes.

Where they
glowing?

Small wounds were
scattered across Aiden’s torso. A smear of blood was on his arm. Half a dozen bruises
along his face and torso. But even as she watched, the wounds knitted back
together, the colorful bruises faded.

Impossible.

A pit in her stomach
yawned open. Air became short. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the fight
as her mind slowly processed the truth.

Werewolves were real.

And she was smack dab
in the middle of a pack of them.

The back of her neck
prickled, and Shayla rubbed her palms against her skirts.

They were reputed to
be fierce warriors in search of their mates, soldiers who devoted their lives
to protecting humans.

Guardians.

She used to dream of
being rescued by her very own warrior. She’d romanticized them. Now that she
was faced with the truth of their existence, the reality of it was everything
she’d imagined and so much more.

Even the boy, Connor.

Then she realized
that those burn must be the ones she’d inflicted with her torch the night they
were rescued. Shayla winced at the damage, but instead of anger or resentment,
those who noticed her, gave her nods of respect.

She saw the rest of
them now, could pick them out of the crowd. There were seven werewolves. There
was a stillness to them, a restless energy boiling beneath the surface, as if on
the verge of springing into action.

As the first wave of
fear faded, Shayla stirred the embers of her gift until a little wick of a
flame answered her call. The shadow of every man in the place shrank, melted into
the form of a wolf. They were shades, remnants of magic that had taken life. But
when she looked at the seven men, instead of wolves, their shadows were sucked
into the soles of their feet and filled their bodies. The sight of huge-ass
werewolves in their two-legged form became superimposed over the men, bleeding
through their human form.

As if sensing the
touch of her magic, those wolves turned toward her. One by one, the men fell
silent and stopped watching the fight to watch her instead.

Most of them just
looked curious, a few were a little too interested, and Shayla curled her
fingers into fists to keep from tugging up the front of her dress.

Only then did she
recognize her rookie mistake.

They were magic, of
course they could sense it as well.

Dread clamped down
hard and vicious on her chest, like all the air had turned to water in her
lungs. Shayla went rigid as magic swelled under her skin. She refused to
succumb to the almost overwhelming need to use it. They had no proof she’d done
anything. As long as she kept her mouth shut and remained in control, she would
be fine.

She would not lose it
in front of them. 

She was the one in
control, not her magic.

She was strong enough
to keep it from devouring them.

Aiden straighten
abruptly, his gaze unerringly finding her. Then his eyes narrowed dangerously
as he scanned her from head to foot. Something inside her eased a fraction,
allowed her to breathe.

Panic receded as
their gazes clashed.

He didn’t notice the
punch Mac threw at his face.

Shayla gasped, ready
to run to him, but instead of dropping, Aiden hardly staggered.

She could almost
swear he growled.

And if she squinted,
swear that those were fangs peeking from between his lips.