2. Say the Word

2

Say the Word

brAND

I stood at the edge of the water, listening to the click of stone on stone as tiny waves lapped around my feet, wondering what in the hell I was doing here. And where my little mate had gone.

Not that she knew that she was my mate.

Glen's parents had been rushed away the moment we arrived, and I'd been taken to the training ground to report to the Sergeant at Arms and register my weapons—a ridiculous protocol for visiting Alphas and Heirs, in my opinion. The most dangerous weapons I had were my claws and teeth. But my sword had to be approved, and at least I'd been able to secure the Council's permission to come to Northern at all.

Of course, once I'd reported, the younger male shifters had insisted on watching me wrestle Sergeant, until he'd dismissed them all. I'd gone looking for my little flower then, but no one had seen her.

I could have asked Vanessa, but I made a point of staying as far from the annoying young woman as possible. The last time I'd spent the night here, she'd grasped my dick underneath the dinner table. I'd warned Glen that if she did it again, I'd tear her hand off.

I sighed and drew in a deep breath, tasting the slightest hint of jasmine and cinnamon on the back of my tongue. "Flor?" I murmured.

The rocks behind me shifted. As if I'd conjured her, I turned to see Flor standing there, her steak knife held tight in one hand. Her hair was disheveled, her eyes wild, and her clothing…

Wait. Those weren't her clothes. If I wasn't mistaken, she had on one of the maids' outfits.

"Flor? What happened?"

"Is the invitation to Mountain still open?" was all she said. Her shoulders were tight, her whole body trembling like a plucked string. I glanced at the woods, where she had to have run from. Was someone chasing her?

My wolf rose to the surface, instantly enraged. Whoever it was, we would kill them for her and present her with their heads as trophies.

She likes heads, my wolf encouraged.

I tried to regain the upper hand over my wolf side. I took a deep breath, scenting the air, but caught no sign of anyone else. Only the scent of Flor's anxiety.

"Brand?"

"Yes," I replied, my emotions still turbulent, though I kept my face and voice steady. "I'll take you to my packlands now. I can have a car here at any moment. Or we can shift and run there." It would take days, weeks. We would be together the entire time, in our fur. I would keep her safe as she learned how to live as a wolf.

My wolf approved of this idea.

She shook her head, but the tension began to unspool from her. "I haven't shifted since…"

The battle. Maybe some of her worry was from that? Had she been trying to shift in the woods, and been unable to? I remembered years ago how frustrating it had been to try and shift on command, when the moon wasn't full.

"Don't worry about that. The shifting will happen when it happens. We'll take the car."

She grinned suddenly, and it was like the sun had come out from behind a dark cloud. "I can leave at any time, can't I? And you'll take me. Promise me."

"I promise. Say the word, and we're gone."

Her smile grew even wider, and she tucked a stray piece of red hair behind her ear. "I trust you."

I nodded in reply, unable to speak. If I opened my mouth, I would tell her how consumed I was by her. How beautiful she was. How I wanted to honor her indomitable spirit, worship her body with mine, and claim her for the rest of our lives.

But I needed to go slow. Most women were frightened of me, of my size and strength. I couldn't bear the thought of this one, my wildflower, fearing me.

"Okay," was all she said, sinking down to the stones to sit cross-legged. I sat beside her, waiting. We stayed silent for a long moment, looking out at the water together.

"My lake is smaller," I murmured at last, knowing I sounded like an idiot.

"Does size really matter?" she replied after a moment.

I blinked, wondering what to say.

Finally, she burst into laughter, though her face was as pink as I thought mine must be. "I mean, when it comes to lakes?"

When I had myself under control, I agreed. "Size doesn't matter. Not for lakes. Not for many things, not for…"

I took in her small, upturned nose, her slender neck, her narrow shoulders. She was so much smaller than me, almost two feet shorter, and at least a hundred and fifty pounds lighter. The thought that I might hurt her inadvertently if she ever chose to give herself to me, was a terrifying possibility.

Not that I would change her if I could. If I had the chance, I would show her how gentle I could be. I would treasure her, touch her so softly she would think it was a breeze, kiss her lightly, over and over, worship her like the moon-blessed goddess she was, and taste her for hours…

"Brand?" Her forehead wrinkled, as she waited for me to go on.

I cleared my throat. "Take you, for instance. You're one of the smallest shifters I've ever seen. But you had the Northern Enforcers so impressed with you on our journey here, they couldn't speak."

The memory had my jaw clenching. The eyes of the two Senior Enforcers in our shared SUV had landed on her so often, and with such longing, my wolf had all but torn his way out of my skin to savage them. All that had saved them was her utter disregard for them both.

"Wait, what?" She laughed again. " That's why they were so quiet? That can't be true."

"But it is. I heard them say it. They saw what you did in the fight against Trevor. They saw what you did to the one who attacked Margarette and Bradley." I paused, my teeth grinding at the memory. "One of them even wrote a poem about you. Another drew some sort of sketch, with charcoal. A picture of you."

"Really? Can I see it?"

I coughed. "It was not a good likeness." Not after I punched the asshole who'd drawn it in the face, and the paper had been splattered with his blood. He'd deserved it. He'd made some wild guesses as to what my mate looked like without clothing. I felt no regret in taking the drawing from him, and taking the price for his disrespect out on his face.

"Poems and sketches? How mortifying. You're kidding, right?"

She seemed disgusted, and I found myself smiling. "No. These Northerners are very artistic. The winter nights are long. They've had to develop their odd little hobbies."

I could tell she was stunned. "I see. Um, do you have an odd little hobby?" I spluttered and evaded the question, until she begged, "Come on, tell me what you do when you're not hunting or watching the lake. Or doing whatever Alpha Heirs do."

Finally, I sighed. "I make sculptures."

She sat up, her side so close to me, I could feel her warmth. "With stone? Or clay?"

I folded my arms over my chest to keep from drawing her onto my lap. "You'll have to be patient. I'll show you when you visit my packlands."

"Big sculptures, carved out of tree trunks with chainsaws?" she teased. "Enormous, bear-sized saws to fit your hands?"

My heart sank. "I know I'm too big. I suppose you think I'm... slow." I turned my head away slightly, trying not to let her see how her teasing had cut me. "I'm not like Glen, or Finn. Not civilized. Most females don't talk to me." No, most of them only came near if they wanted something. Status, or influence with my father. Bragging rights that they'd been with an Alpha Heir.

"Oh, Brand. Those girls miss out." I wasn't looking, so I didn't see her reach out, but felt her small, warm hand on my arm as she pulled it gently toward her. "I don't think you're slow. I watched you fight. You're big, but you're fast, and powerful. And you make smart decisions in battle."

My heart was pounding so hard, I felt dizzy. Her touch was addictive, even this hesitant, soft one. "You truly think so?"

"I do." Her hand moved over mine like my fingers were fragile, in feather-soft, careful strokes that gave me goosebumps and made me long for more. Like I was the delicate one.

She pulled her hand free before I could return the caress. I shifted so she wouldn't notice the erection now tenting my sweatpants, the uniform I wore whenever I was training at Northern. I needed to change the subject.

"Flor, when you came out here—" Her stomach suddenly growled so loudly, it sounded like a wild animal. She laughed, but I stood, enraged. "You haven't eaten?"

I was going to kill Glen.

"No, and I'm starved. Do you think you could get me something from the kitchen?"

"We have a formal dinner in a few hours, but I'll take you to get something now. If Margarette knew you hadn't been fed, she'd be horrified."

"Would she be?" I thought I heard Flor mutter as she stood.

A howling started up in the forest, the sound of a pack of young males chasing a deer, most likely.

She shivered. "Let's go inside, Bearman."

I forgot what I was going to ask her. I forgot everything including my own name as she linked her arm in mine and pressed her cheek against me, as if I was bringing her comfort.

As if I was her safety in an uncertain world.

"We can leave whenever I want?" she asked quietly, her eyes on the trees, in the direction of the howling.

"All you need to do is say the word." I leaned into her touch.

"Which word?"

"Lake," I replied, as we walked toward the house. I didn't want her to have to say it, but some part of me hoped she would whisper it in my ear someday soon. Then I would carry her away, and show her the second most beautiful sight I'd ever seen. Just being around her calmed my wolf. I hadn't felt peace like this in so long.

"Formal dinner, huh? Guess I might need to change. Would be nice if I had clothes. Unless they want me to serve dinner—in which case, I'm fine as is."

My peace suddenly fled. "What do you mean? Wait… that is a maid's uniform, isn't it?"

"Yeah," she replied with a pained smile, and sketched out what had happened since she'd been left in Vanessa's hands. "Guess I thought the unranked here had it better than at Southern. Don't be shocked if I end up yelling ‘lake' like some sort of lunatic over the first course tonight."

Feeling my claws emerge from the ends of my fingers, I dropped my hand from her arm. Fur prickled across my back and sprouted along my neck, my snout elongating and my teeth growing sharper. In seconds, I was in a half-shifted form, my clothes ripping at the seams.

I knew I was ruining any chance I would ever have with Flor, but the rage that rushed through me at hearing what had happened was forcing my wolf to emerge. It was all I could do not to change fully, hunt down Vanessa, and kill her, presenting her corpse to my mate.

"Brand?" Her voice was filled with an emotion I couldn't recognize, and I rested my shifted, hairy arms on my knees, fighting for control.

"Leave," I demanded. "Leave me, Flor." My words were garbled, but I knew she heard them.

Because instead of running away, she wrapped her tiny arms around my hideous form and whispered, "Not on your life, Bearman."