The Becoming Trilogy Box Set (Books 1-3) (72 page)

'I never knew.’ Connal’s
intense grey eyes lifted to MacTire’s as he shook his head. ‘I swear to you, I
never knew the Morrígan’s plan. She promised to raise the dead. I thought she
meant Aoife and the
child
. I was a fucking idiot, and by the time I realised,
it was too late to stop it. I'm not proud of what I did. There was no going
back. She enslaved me, and yes, I hunted for her, but only the wolves that
chose to stray lost their heads to me. I respected Haven law, and the
thralls
were mercy killings.’

The King rocked back in his
chair, wide-eyed. ‘Would that you had come to me then ...’

‘You wouldn’t have believed
me if I had.’

MacTire nodded slowly. They
both knew the collective grief of the pack would have killed on sight and asked
questions later. ‘A thousand years of animosity can't be just turned on the
axis of one fight,’ the King extended his arm across the table, ‘but you have
my gratitude.’

Connal’s expression
tightened, his eyes fixed on MacTire’s offered hand of friendship. His own arm
was leaden. He had to take what the King offered, but doing so would feel more
like marking him for death than a handshake. ‘What I did, I did for Ash. Not
for you,’ Connal said.

‘Nonetheless, I would have
you call me Brother, and mean it. One day, perhaps.’ MacTire’s smile was warm
as he clasped Connal’s forearm in an affirming grip. Connal’s was grim as he
returned the gesture.

‘Hi.’ Ash's voice was sleepy
from where she was blinking at them in the doorway. Connal's heart leapt at the
sight she made, bed-rumpled and clad in one of his shirts, a gentle flush
illuminating her pale cheeks. The two men jumped apart, distancing themselves,
but her drowsy eyes lit up with a stirring tenderness. She'd seen. ‘I don’t
mean to interrupt,’ she smile
d
, ‘but I think there’s somebody at the door.’

S
tanding in her front garden, surrounded by the other
wolves, Ash frowned at the vehicle as it pulled up to the gates. It even looked
like a prison van. Shiny and black, it was a state of the art model, a
pimped-out truck with blocky sides, small windows and giant wheels. The
thegn
driving it hopped out to spring open the back doors. Hands cuffed at the base
of his spine, Fite was led up from Connal’s basement by a brace of burly
bodyguards. As they forced his head down, preparing to bundle him inside the
van, the silver-haired wolf noticed Ash, and turned to pin her in the ice of
his green-rimmed stare.

‘I do not see why she has to
come. We do not need a farewell wave,’ he hissed, each word blade-edged.

Ash cocked a brow. She opened
her mouth to answer, but MacTire beat her to it.

‘Ashling will come. If the
Morrígan reneges on her promise, she will be close enough to sanctuary.’

She could see the animosity
bristle up the curve of Fite’s spine.

‘It’s only a precaution,
right?’ Ash said. Her gaze went to the moon, full and bright in the sky.
‘There’s no reason for the Morrígan to renege. She’s my grandmother.’ She
turned her face up to Connal, but finding no reassurance in the hard set of his
jaw, her tentative smile evaporated.

The
guards went to
work securing their prisoner inside the van. There was a caged-off area inside,
suited to the purpose. Ash didn’t realise how on edge she was under Fite’s
stare until it left her and she relaxed. A convoy of vehicles followed behind,
and pretty soon Ash’s house was swarming with Mac’s elite,
thegn,
clean-up
team
.

Tyr and the other rebels
emerged next, all cuffed, heads hung low in reluctant submission. The cage
barriers were secured and then the rest of the wolves filed obediently in. It
must have been a regular occurrence, as they slotted onto the benches, clicking
on safety belts and settling down, unconcerned.

Ash hesitated, looking down
the long line of enclosed bodies and mesh lockers. If they turned on her in
such a small place, she’d have trouble defending herself. Mac sat alone on the
opposite side, a furrow in his brow, his eyes on the circle of the moon shining
through the small window.

Warm hands settled on her
hips and she didn’t even have to look to know they were Connal’s. His presence
stirred her blood. ‘Are you sure you’re okay with this?’ he said. ‘We can take
your car.’

Ash could feel the glare he
aimed over her shoulders at a smirking Fite.

‘I’m good, Big Bad.’ Her lips
curved a small smile at him and she swallowed as she reached for the handrail.

The other members of the
s
kuldalid
were watching her curiously. Knutr’s
face was strangely bare, his hair damp and less tangled. He waved from his seat
beside Brandr. The two empty spaces beside Mac seemed the obvious choice, but
Ash found herself second-guessing her next move.

Well, this wasn’t awkward at
all.

In the end, Connal made the
decision for them. He guided her to the bench opposite a wide-grinning Knutr
and closed her in beside Mac. The King took his eyes off the moon long enough
to run her head to toe in a black-fire gaze, and then a flare of his nostrils
turned him from her.

Ash had an apology on the tip
of her tongue. She wore Connal’s scent on her skin like a brand of his
possession. Scooching along the bench, she put distance between them and ended
up frowning at the opposite wall.

‘Smile.’

Her eyes sought Knutr’s as
his voice broke through her thoughts. His face was bright, an exaggerated grin
stretching his mouth. Her lips twitched.

‘Not good enough,’ he teased
and she chuckled, flashing him a smile before letting it fall back into soft
amusement.

Ash reached out a hand to
Knutr’s hair.

‘It looks different. Were you
guys doing makeovers last night?’ Her voice was quiet and she leaned forward,
pretending the glares coming from the wolves either side of him didn’t exist.

‘I found a brush and the
elixir in the showering room killed the tangles,’ his hands smoothed the new,
soft curls and she smiled at the pride in his voice.

‘You’re looking suave, Knutr.
More GQ, less Cro-Mag.’

His cheekbones were high and
sharp, bare of the beard and sideburns he’d sported the first time they met.
She would have killed for his bone-structure. And saner answers. His ramblings
had left her with more questions than she’d started with, and she yearned for
more time with him, when he was lucid and spoke in proper sentences.

This man knew her father, and
he had knowledge of what really happened to her mother, beyond her nightmarish
memories. But with tensions running so high in the enclosed space, now didn’t
seem like the time for a probing Q&A. Knutr beamed across at her, looking
sophisticated, and then the moment passed over a speed bump and his lucidity
went with it. The van was filled with his low mumblings and the
thegn
driver turned up the volume on the radio.

No one spoke as they trundled
through the streets of Dublin. Apart from Mac’s huff when she leaned a little
too much into Connal, the passengers were silent.

The van slid smoothly to a
stop outside Form, the club’s signage catching her eye in a swirl of red and
black. The colour made her breathless. When she would have lingered, Connal’s
warm hand took hers and led her from the stationary vehicle. His mouth was
curved in amusement as she met his eyes, dazed. Wolves piled from the van
around them. His voice was low to her ear. ‘You know you get this look.’

‘It’s the colour.’ She wet
her lower lip in a slow sweep. ‘It’s intense.’ It made her shaky, made her
hungry. She’d forgotten how good it could feel.

‘I’ve got you, Little Red.’
And he did. Connal held her hand and kept her close, supporting her with the
firm reality of his body.

They followed the line of
wolves through the club’s doors. Inside, Form was strewn with bodies,
thrall
-girls
and the occasional guy, sleeping off the full moon lunacy. The girls made her
nervous. It was like walking into a pit of sleeping sirens, all ready to wake
up and try to fuck them to death. She wasn’t sure how they’d react to her.

Stirred by their masters’
proximity, a number of them reached out with their black, half-mooned nails to
brush ankles and thighs, to rub against crotches and claw at the men passing.
Brandr caught at a few girls, stealing kisses as Rún hauled him along with the
rest of the procession into the lower levels.

In her haste to get out of
it, Ash had forgotten how beautiful the club was. Edgy and dark, it spoke of
carnality, a lair for the beasts aboveground. She drew her fingers down the
damask-papered hallway, guided forward by the constant press of Connal at her
back. Lush carpet gave way to polished tile, the warmth of the club cooling to
the stone basement as they filed in.

The click of the door’s lock
straightened her spine and steeled her nerves. Her senses mapped the room,
taking note of space and where each wolf was. They were waiting for something,
the faces of the men ranging from fear to anticipation. Brandr shot her a wink
and Knutr smiled goofily. Before she could respond, Fite’s silhouette cut
across her vision, shaped against the backdrop of the other males. He was riled
up for the journey back, triumph and disgust warring in his hissed words.

‘You better pray the Morrigan
holds up her end of the deal, because if you set foot in Fomor, there will be
war.’

Connal and Mac snarled in
unison.

Ash waved them down and
tipped her chin at Fite. ‘If I can help it, I won’t be going down there, you
don’t have to worry.’

He growled, but nodded. She
could just imagine how he was hoping she’d die before she could make it to the
waters.

The conduit swirled as though
it was aware of their agreement and was beckoning him home. One last scathing
glance, and Fite dove into the black pool, disappearing beneath its surface.
The last threads of his aggression filtered down the channel’s plughole and Ash
exhaled tension. Jostling each other, the remaining wolves fell in pairs into
the black depths, swallowed whole and sucked down into Hell. Ash shivered.

‘Rayvn,’ Knutr sang out, a mad
strain to the tune, and she turned towards him with a frown. But he was
laughing, teasing her. ‘Ah ah ah. I know who you are, Ashling. You are not
allowed to look at me like that.’

The back of her hand lashed
his shoulder. ‘Don’t do that to me.’

He took her fist gently and
she was aware of Connal and Mac moving backwards to give them space.

‘You’ll come and see me,
right? Next full moon?’ Ash pleaded, ‘I have so many questions about my
mother.’ It hurt, more than she expected. He was possibly the only blood,
besides her grandmother, she had left. And, insane or not, he’d protected her.
He’d saved her. He had loved her mother and her father. Sadness welled and he
shushed her, drawing her into his embrace.

‘A wild pack of wolves
couldn’t keep me away,’ he laughed roughly, aiming a pointed look at Mac. When
she looked up, he brushed a curl behind her ear. She sniffed and he smiled.
‘Ah, Ashling, you look so much like your mother. It is pain and pleasure to
know you, child.’ His lips were warm, pressing to her cheek and he released
her. ‘Look after her, Savage. I know where you live.’ Knutr was deadly serious,
and Ash was howling laughter internally at the look on Connal’s face. He was
dumbfounded and wary. Connal nodded slowly and gripped the arm Knutr stretched
towards him in a warrior’s handshake. A blinding smile edged in mania and a
cough of water later, and he disappeared through the conduit.

A deep breath inflated her
lungs. ‘And then there were three ...’ She tried to smile. Her heart wasn’t in
it. It was clenching at the thought of saying goodbye to Mac.

‘Ashling.’ The King
full-named her and it was different to when Knutr did it. It was more tender,
less familial. The blond wolf stood before her with cracks in his armour and
pain on his face.

His fingertips reached to
brush against the key,
his
key, hanging from her wrist. Her voice came
out soft. ‘Would you like it back?’