Summon (11 page)

Slumped until his torso curved, Conall rubbed his
whole face then pushed his hair back. “Agreed. This time I will be present to
ensure my sister is protected during the discussion. We need rest.”

Breandan stiffened. “She was protected.”

Conall’s gaze narrowed in challenge. “Not well
enough.” He strolled out of sight and Lochlann followed, face repentant on
behalf of his irritable Warrior.

Breathing easy, I used the grooves in the wood to
climb onto the platform outside the dwelling. My footfall soft, touch light, I
eased the door open and peeked inside.

On a raised bed in the corner of the room Ana
slept. Her uneven breathing was harsh in the silence. Hides piled high over her
body, a furry mound she snuggled under to the neck. What I could see of her
face was gaunt and pale.

Curious, my eyes swept over the large space, and
richly carved furniture. A brazier maintained a balmy temperature in the curved
room. Its soft glow cast shadows on the nut-brown walls. An opening in the
floor revealed stairs that led to a lower level deeper in the tree trunk. Weak
beams of light filtered from above, and I glimpsed the sky through the leaves.
The floor was a knot of roots polished with wax that smelled sweet.

Letting the door close, I worried my lip, but ended
up shaking myself.

Ana looked peaceful enough. The ritual drained her,
and she desperately needed rest, not me eyeballing her as she slept. Breandan
confessed she’d lost a hand during the resurrection. Conall induced a magical
coma to accelerate her healing, but she’d be in immense pain unless he’d healed
the stump.

Will regenerating
her hand prove too troublesome?

It was something within the realms of my power, as
a giver of life. The missing hand was her consequence from the spell, and I
couldn’t be sure if replacing it would aggravate the higher powers.

Realising I stood in plain sight, cautious, I
popped her head over the edge of the platform to check I was alone.

Breandan stood at the foot of the staircase with
his head tilted back. His lips twisted with amusement. “Were you born at the
Wyld this is how I would dream of courting you, a pink sky and a cloudless
dawn. I’d tempt you to the stream with promises of poetry, feed you, and offer
gifts.”

I cringed. Poetry? Imagining it, Breandan’s lips
brushing my ear as he whispered in his sensual voice, my body heated, and a blush
stained my cheeks. “Why only dream?”

His eyes darkened. “I would not have possessed the
courage to talk to you. You were our destined High Priestess, therefore, my
Elder’s betrothed.”

“Not if Devlin was, well, y’know, alive.”

He crossed his arms. Uncrossed them. “Has
Tomas–”

“You’ve seen him?” I asked in a rush.

Arms tightening, Breandan shook his head.

I hoped my question didn’t suggest I felt an
interest in Tomas. I just thought it wise to give any topic concerning the
vampire phantom as wide a birth as supernaturally doable.

Unsure of what to do with my body or how to
maintain the exchange, I twisted my hands together, trying to think of
something interesting say.

Nurturing at Temple was hugely different to
Breandan’s upbringing. As a human, my life focused on survival. As a Disciple,
I learned to protect my species. I never dreamed of a family, of a loved one.
Boyfriends were common, but real relationships, the kind lasting until death? Too
risky. The Clerics viewed them as distractions, and those wanting to live
avoided anything that left them vulnerable. Love brought compromises I’d never
thought I’d have to make. Breandan’s romantic attachments before me were
limited, but he’d harboured dreams of being a father and mate alongside his
ambitions as Wyld Guardian.

Children and marriage felt alien to consider in
relation to myself, so I’d start simple.

Part of becoming a better life mate was holding a
conversation that didn’t concern war or death.
As soon as I figure out what to say, I’ll make a terrific
conversationalist.
My mouth opened then closed.
Kissing is better than talking in my opinion.

Breandan cleared his throat. “Conall’s looking for
you, so is Lochlann, but when are they not?”

“I’ll be gone before Conall’s back, but if you
could stall both of them for a while….”

“Alright.”

A brown bear stomped into view beside Breandan.

I scowled. It couldn’t be more obvious where I was
if the werebear stayed. Frustrated, I hissed, hoping the mountain of fur would
take the hint and get lost.

He grunted, rubbing his hunched back on a crooked
root.

Breandan winked then headed after our brothers,
showing no protest to my furry stalker.

I watched him walk away a little glassy eyed,
attention fixed on his long stride, and the contraction of muscle down his
broad back when he rolled his shoulders and shook out his arms as if gearing up
for a fight.

Astounded by how he’d changed my life, how deeply
his faith touched me, how hot his ass looked in those armoured trousers, I
hoped one day I’d be an inspiration to him, as he never failed to be for me.

Tearing my eyes from Breandan’s retreating
gorgeousness, before I drooled, I glanced at the wooden door. I needed to speak
to Ana, urgently, but my interest in why Baako followed me grew ten-fold.

Confident in my inconspicuousness, I descended the
stairs carved into Conall’s dwelling. “Can you Change?”

Baako bumbled off, returning sometime later. I
ended up seated with my chin in my hands playing a woefully unfair game of
chicken with a mouse.

The bizarre herd of woodland animals following me
bordered ridiculous. Rabbits, weasels, squirrels, badgers, hedgehogs, and voles
hid in the undergrowth and shrubs, all the while gaining the courage to shuffle
closer. Woodpeckers and owls in the canopy were common in the Wyld, but
starlings, thrushes, and finches chirping
all
the time
weren’t. The vibrant explosion of orange lichen crusts, claret
fungi and their fleshy mushroom spore sprouting with weedy grass wherever I
stepped was odd, but tolerable. The snuffling and twittering tested my
patience. Hiding at the Wyld would be impossible as people realised the
restless fauna meant I hid close by.

Baako held a bundle of fabric clenched between his teeth.

My brows lifted in exasperation. “Ask me to glamour
you a pair next time.”

He sniffed and walked around the tree for privacy.

Tapping my foot, I waited.

After watching several members of the Pride Change,
I felt no desire to watch another shifter endure the grisly transformation. It
was a fascinating thing, an astonishment of nature, but uncomfortable to
witness.
I’m thinking only shifters
appreciate the beauty without focusing on the ugly phases.

“Nothing will make me leave your side.” Baako’s
surly declaration wrenched me from intense contemplation of my bare toes.

The were-bear crossed massive arms over his chest.
Bands of muscle rippled at the defensive movement. He was a full head and
shoulders taller than me.

I craned my neck to ogle.

Hollowed cheeks angled sharply to Baako’s temples
creating a stern visage. Contradicting his harsh expression, large, dark eyes
crinkling at the corners were all warmth. Puddles of cocoa complimented by the
rich golden brown undertones of his skin. Hair shorn to his scalp, the shadow
of a beard accentuated his square jaw.

The edge of a leaf tickled my side. Huffing, I
plucked it off.
I need to find real
clothes.
Maybe I’d pilfer some from an abandoned dwelling like Baako.

He wiggled his hips, expression creasing with
discomfort. The armoured trousers stretched too tight across his thickset
thighs and calves. “I go where you go.”

I poked his pectoral. Rock hard. “I have a
protector, not that I needed one. I’m able to take care of myself. I know at
times I seem–”

“Naïve?”

“
Distracted
,” I clarified,
churlish. “Occasionally my emotions get the better of me, and it makes
me–”

“Careless?”

“Indecisive.” I gnashed my teeth and stabbed him
with a
condescending
look to counter his languid
disdain. “I over think things, a lot, which makes me confrontational because I
don’t know how to deal and feel pressured to have answers. I’m not trained at
hiding my uncertainty. Subterfuge was part of my Disciple training at Temple.”
I tapped my chin. Shrugged. “I failed that class.”

The bridge of his nose was flat, but his nostrils
wide. They flared now. “I’m your Familiar.”

“Say-so.” My brows mashed together. “Not sure if I
should be insulted.”

“I know you’re not a witch. The tiny blonde who
worked the spell to bring you back is. I like her.”

“Most people don’t.”

“She reminds me of you.”

My smile stretched into a grin. “Exactly.”

His bark of laughter caught him unawares. Softening,
he regarded me with bemused suspicion. “You’re not going to fight me on this?”

“I get into enough fights.”

Baako grimaced. The expression lowered his
prominent brow until his eyes twinkled like stars in darkness. “I get you.”

“Good.” I gave him a dismissive flick of the wrist
I’d seen Lochlann use to masterly effect. “Off you go.”

“Seriously? That works for you?”

“Never tried it before.”

“A humble suggestion, don’t try it again.”

I smiled in genuine pleasure because he was kooky,
and I felt the kinship he claimed. Witches used Familiars as spies and
companions. They were usually woodland creatures or domestic pets. Baako was a
ferocious werebear, a giant when in animal form, and impossible to imagine as
anything but a two-natured warrior. Yet he readily admitted he was not just a
Familiar, but also
mine
.

I supposed the Familiar of a godling needed
fierceness if it wished to survive.

I tugged on my hair and shifted my weight side to
side wondering what the odds were that going along with my impulse would result
in catastrophe.

“The cat’s right,” Baako mused. “You
are
twitchy.”

In the interests of peace and goodwill, I ignored
the barb. “You can’t get in the way when I’m being sneaky.”

“Lochlann knew you were up there.”

“Na-uh.”

“Uh-huh,” Baako teased. “He knew.”

Shoulders hunching, I folded my arms and tucked my
hands into my armpits. I valiantly fought a pout. “Breandan gets jealous.”

“Fairies have long memories as a people. Judging by
the ink scrawled over him, Breandan was Wyld Guardian meaning he inherited a
bunch of memories and spells. Familiars are rare, but not so rare he can’t
recognise the kinship for what it is.” Baako leered. “Not that I wouldn’t,
you know
,” he waggled his eyebrows, “if
you weren’t mated and all.”

“Don’t be gross.” I drummed my fingers on my sides.
“There may come a time I risk my life for reasons you don’t understand or agree
with. You’d have to accept it and let me be. Could you do that?”

His reply was slow in coming. His head dipped as if
weighed by the question’s importance. “If in no way would my help assure a
better outcome, no problem. Nothing I do is to cause you harm, physical or
emotional. Stopping you from doing what you think is right would cause you
pain.”

“I’m not understanding what you get out of this.”

“As your power grows so does mine. I’ll not just be
an Alpha shifter, but the most powerful judging by what I feel coming off you.”

My eyes narrowed to slits. “Power hungry much?”

“Nah, but I’m cunning enough to take it when
offered in a mutual exchange.”

I chewed my lip, clearly trying to think of a way
to get rid of him. “Well….” I had nothing.

A raven-winged brow arched in derision. He wasn’t
going anywhere.

“Fine.” I rolled my eyes at his grin, a flashy show
of bright teeth against tanned skin.

Baako grabbed my forearm as his face partially
shifted bear, and his teeth lowered into sharp points. He yanked and spun me,
clamped his other arm across my shoulders then sank his canines into the crease
of my elbow.

Arm tingling, disbelieving, I gaped at him as he
let me go, casually licking blood from the corners of his mouth.

“Are you angry you died?” The grim nature of
Baako’s question was softened by concern, conveyed by his voice deepening in
pitch.

“
You bit me
.”
Staring at the crescent of scars that mirrored his teeth, I hissed and whacked
his stomach. “
What the hell was that
?”

“It’s my mark.” Baako didn’t try to hide the
smugness as he pointed at it. “That tells other shifters a Familiar claims
you.”

My face was hot. “But you bit me.”

“So? Anyway, you don’t seem glad we brought you
back.”