Chapter Nine

Santa Hands out Free Concussions

Angus Denning was an underwhelming sight.

It was almost like getting catfished on Tinder. You had all these great expectations about what a person looked like. And then…well, you got to meet them in real life.

Angus was just like that. He wasn’t exactly short or ugly. In fact, by most standards, he was pretty good-looking. He was a head taller than Lyla, with a mess of silvery blond hair swept across his forehead. Blue eyes gazed back at her, giving her a once-over. For a man who had to be somewhat older than Tristan, he looked almost youthful.

But that was exactly the problem. She’d expected someone else—someone murderous and terrifying, with bloodshot eyes; a man who’d gone through hell and come back frothing at the lips to exact vengeance. This guy? Take away the sword and fur coat, and he could be a businessman working in a corner office. Nothing was imposing or scary about him except for the eight men flanking him on both sides with weapons drawn.

Pretty long, shiny swords , Lyla observed.

In her experience, most cronies carried semi-automatic rifles and pistols, blades if they were the masochistic kind. Longswords took things to a whole new level. And something told her these guys weren’t exactly novices.

“Angus,” Tristan said softly. “This is all a misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding?” the village chief repeated, scoffing. “You bastard. You murdered both my sons. Do you have any idea how horrible the last few weeks have been for me?”

“I do. It’s why you came after me—”

“I would have scoured the entirety of Frost Mountain to find you.” The man’s lips twitched. “Fortunately, I don’t have to. I have found you now. You will return to Elron with us. Justice awaits you there. The people are not happy with you, Tristan.”

“I can imagine. I—”

“What you did was irresponsible.” Angus stepped closer. “Running away? You not only confirmed your guilt, but you also abandoned your nephew in the village, with no one to look after him. What kind of a monster are you?” He chuckled mirthlessly. “I suppose we all know the answer to that. I should have you struck down where you stand.”

Angus’s hand shifted, and for a second, Lyla feared he might reach for his own sword and attack them.

Fear and tension swept through the air like an electric current. Struggling to brush aside her discomfort, Lyla weighed their odds. These men had come for Tristan, but there was no way they’d let her go free. After all, she’d been discovered with the alleged murderer. As far as they were concerned, she was just as guilty as he was.

She and Tristan didn’t have many options, either. They could try to make a run for it, but she doubted they’d make it very far before these men struck them down. Then again, if they stayed and allowed themselves to be captured, they’d lose their heads the second they were back in Elron. Whatever they did, it didn’t look like they’d be breathing for much longer.

There had to be some way out of this mess.

An idea popped into her mind just then: She could give him up. She was a bounty hunter, after all. And Tristan was very likely the criminal they suspected him to be. But she soured on that idea quickly. Somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She wouldn’t hand him over to these guys to save her skin. Not to mention—

“Seize them!” Angus cried.

Three men advanced toward Tristan and Lyla, swords gleaming in the sunlight.

The next few moments were almost a complete blur.

The first man reached them and tried to grab Tristan. Faster than Lyla thought possible, Tristan whipped out his own blade. There was a clang and an explosion of fiery sparks, and the crony’s sword hand was knocked out of the way. While the man was wide open, Tristan planted his foot in the man’s chest and sent him stumbling backward into the nearest comrade. They both toppled over onto the snow.

The rest of the men stared at one another, then at the men lying in the snow. Then they charged.

With the way they swung their swords, Lyla had no doubt they’d taken Tristan’s assault on their comrades as a license to maim or kill, but he didn’t seem the least bit concerned. He took a wide stance, facing them with nothing but a hunting blade. Lyla couldn’t help noticing the wary looks on the men’s faces, like they were expecting him to turn into the monster from last night and rip them apart.

“Take them!” Angus cried courageously from behind his armed guards.

“I’m innocent!” Tristan protested as one of the men reached him.

The man struck with his sword, but Tristan quickly parried the attack with his own blade, swinging his other fist at his opponent’s skull. The man went down instantly. Tristan dodged an attack that would have taken his head off and delivered a punch to the next guy’s chest that sent him sprawling backward.

Lyla had to admit, he looked a little odd, claiming his innocence while giving concussions to Angus’s men like Santa handing out Christmas presents.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted one of the men approaching her and braced herself for his attack. The man reached out to grab her the second he reached her, his fingers closing around her arm.

Big mistake.

Lyla dug her heels into the snow, then twisted and heaved as hard as she could. There was a surprised yelp as her assailant sailed over her and landed in the snow. As he tried to get up, fumbling for his sword, she grabbed his face and slammed it down on her knee. This guy was going to be needing a nose job.

“Come here, you,” hissed a voice behind her.

Before she could whip around, more hands grabbed her arms, making it impossible to reach the blade under her coat. Lyla strained against the hands that held her, but there were four of them. Both men stood by her sides, keeping a safe distance in case she struck out with her legs.

“Let me go,” she snarled.

“What are you, his woman?” Angus was suddenly standing in front of her, his features set into a frown. “You know about his crime, don’t you? Yet you travel with him. You must be aiding his escape.”

His lip curled. Lyla saw the punch coming before his arm moved. His fist slammed into her gut, and she doubled over.

“You know what he did to my sons?” Angus raised his fist again. “I found them lying in a pool of their own blood, their throats—”

He never got to finish his statement. Something massive slammed into the village chief, sending him flying several feet. Angus crashed into a pile of debris and lay there, groaning.

It was Tristan. The men holding Lyla raised their weapons, but he moved like lightning. A moment later, both men lay sprawled in the snow.

Tristan marched over to Angus, grabbing him by the coat. Fear shone visibly in the village chief’s eyes.

“Touch her again,” Tristan snarled, “and I just might kill someone.”

He let go of Angus, who sank back onto the pile like a sack of potatoes.

Lyla gazed around. Angus’s men were all scattered about in the snow, either unconscious or groaning in pain. Her eyes landed on Tristan, who looked murderous. The second he met her gaze, his expression softened.

“Let’s get out of here,” he told her. “We need to keep moving.”

***

By the time they stopped to rest, the sun had begun its descent below the horizon. They paused by a tree, panting with exhaustion and relief.

The sunlight cast an orange tinge across Tristan’s face as he stared at her, his dark eyes searching. “Are you okay?” he asked. “You must be—”

“Tired,” she finished for him. “Yeah, I am.”

“I was going to say hurt .” He was at her side in an instant, cupping her jaw in one hand. A shiver traveled through Lyla’s body as his heated gaze traveled from her forehead to her neck. “You’ve got a few cuts and bruises.”

The dismay in his voice nearly stopped her heart. Slowly, she nodded. “I think I am injured under my coat, too. I didn’t even notice until now.”

Not all of her injuries had come from the skirmish with Angus and his men, she realized. Her little interaction with the big bad wolf from last night had caused a lot of cuts and bruises. She’d been so determined not to end up as the wolf’s dinner that she’d barely felt anything. Now she did—dull aches and pains in different parts of her body.

Was it just her, or did guilt flash across Tristan’s face?

He let go of her, and she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “You must be injured, too,” she said.

Tristan shrugged. He glanced through the woods behind them. “They should be far behind us now.”

“With the injuries you gave them,” Lyla replied, “I’d be surprised if they still bothered to chase us.”

“They will. I attacked Angus and probably wounded him. The next time he finds us, he won’t bother taking us back to Elron. Angus wants blood, and he’s not going to stop until he gets his wish.”

Images flickered through her mind: Tristan knocking Angus down away from her. Tristan picking Angus up.

Tristan with a ferocious look on his face.

Touch her again, and I just might kill someone .

“What are you grinning about?”

She blinked, heat rising to her cheeks. “What? Nothing.”

He stared at her for a moment, which did nothing to settle the warm flutter that had arisen in her belly.

“We need to get to my sister’s as soon as possible. Hopefully, she’ll give us sanctuary.”

Hopefully? “What is the deal with your sister, anyway?” she wanted to know. Her stomach growled, but she ignored it. “You never did tell me.” A thought occurred to her, and she decided to back down. “I guess it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.”

They sat in silence for the next few seconds—or was it minutes?

Tristan broke it first. “My sister hates me.”

She frowned. “Whatever for?”

“She blames me for the death of our brother, Jason.”

Whoa . “Lewis’s father? The one who died in an avalanche?”

He nodded slowly, keeping his gaze on the snowy ground. For a few seconds, he said nothing. He was taking his time, she realized. Merely thinking about his brother must be painful for him, much less sharing the details with her.

“Jason was a lot like me,” he said. “He loved to hunt. Back then, decades ago, we didn’t live in Elron. My family has always traveled across Frost Mountain over the centuries.”

“Because of the curse,” she guessed. “You had to move each time something happened.”

Another nod. “Jason and I would hunt together. When he died, his son Lewis was merely a child. The day it happened, we were out hunting. We had been snowed in due to a storm, and we needed more food. Jason and I left Ariadne behind, promising to be back by evening.” He fell silent again. Then: “I returned alone the next morning.”

“I’m so sorry,” Lyla breathed.

The sunlight cast a dark shadow across his face. “Sometimes, I believe it was my fault. I could have stopped him. I knew it was dangerous; Jason should never have pursued that reindeer across the hill. One second, he was there, and the next…”

“There was an avalanche,” she finished, feeling a tightening in her gut. “That must have been painful for you to witness.”

He gave another shrug. “When I returned, Ariadne was just as distraught as I was. But she was also furious. She drove me away and asked me never to return. She blamed me for Jason’s death. I took Lewis along with me. I felt he was my responsibility. Together, we traveled up the mountain until we found Elroy and settled there.”

He said nothing more. Lyla studied his features. This man had more on his broad shoulders than she’d realized. A brother whose death he blamed himself for, a nephew he’d raised as his own…if she had to guess, as much as he denied being responsible for the deaths of Angus’s sons, a part of him blamed himself for it.

The more time she spent with him, the more she wondered just how much she’d gotten wrong about him. It was getting harder to believe that the man who’d saved her life over and over was the same werewolf that had tried to rip her apart last night.

But if Tristan wasn’t the werewolf, then who was?

She frowned, unable to shake the feeling that there was something she was missing. Whatever it was, she had no idea. As far as he knew, he might as well be the culprit after all. Somehow, he and the werewolf never seemed to be in the same place at the same time. If she understood his curse well enough, he had little control over his transformation. The curse took effect whenever, wherever, and he was helpless to it.

But that didn’t make him innocent, did it?