3. Mischief and Murderous Intent

3

Mischief and Murderous Intent

FLOR

B rand was magnificent, and terrifying, and watching him react in such a protective way to what he called an "unforgivable insult" by Vanessa went a long way to making my fears about how I would handle being at Northern vanish.

Of course, I'd only shared the part about her putting me in the servants' quarters, the crappy living conditions there, and how the maid had seemed to be worried about me.

As I hugged his waist, I decided not to tell him about the Hunt I'd just escaped, at least not yet. If he realized those guys had been chasing me, I had a feeling he'd run off without a word and kill them all. And I didn't want him to leave my side.

"Don't be embarrassed," I said, as he ducked his head.

"Aren't you disgusted?" he asked, his words hard to understand since his snout was still diminishing.

"By your form?" I discreetly ran my hand over the fur on his arm. I was not at all disgusted. I was fascinated. I pulled away, gazing up at his half-shifted face. He was fierce and terrifying, and I didn't want to think about how turned on I was getting, seeing him like this.

Though he could probably smell my desire. I refused to think about that.

His chocolate brown eyes were still the same, and his size, but his wolf's fur was a brown so deep it was almost black, like his hair. He took a breath and closed his eyes, forcing his wolf to subside.

"By my lack of control." He laughed weakly as he finished changing, the fur receding, though he was still covered with more dark hair than many men. I wanted to bury my fingers in it.

Afraid I might do just that, I let go of his arm. "Looked pretty in control to me," was all I said. "I've never seen any shifter who could do that. I thought it was cool."

"Didn't scare you?"

"You couldn't," I said honestly. It was true. As he focused on his return to human form, I let myself ogle him surreptitiously a little longer. Size didn't matter, he'd said. If you asked me, the extra inches on his chest mattered at least a little bit.

For some reason, the idea of measuring every inch of his skin, exploring it like he was an uncharted land, popped into my mind. One of the seams of his shirt had ripped when he shifted, and I could see exposed flesh peeking through the gap. So. Damn. Sexy. I shivered at the thought of stroking it.

"You okay?" He turned his head, and his short beard gleamed slightly reddish-brown in the morning sunlight. I wanted to reach out and touch one of the tiny sparks of red, see if they were as warm as they looked.

"I'm fine. I might need a cold shower after I eat something, though." I swallowed. "I mean, a shower. Just a shower. Showers at Southern were always cold, you know."

"Hmm," he replied, not looking at me, thank goodness. I knew I'd turned as red as a boiled crawdad.

I dropped back, pretending to tie my sneaker, carefully not noticing the way every single muscle was outlined in those sweatpants. These Northerners should really find some clothes that fit this guy. These were way too tight.

I stopped staring at Brand's butt long enough to admire the rough log stairs and granite paths that led around the sides of the enormous compound. I'd been too distracted by Vanessa to take it all in before, but the Lodge and its surroundings really were majestic.The main building was two stories tall, but sprawled across a considerable stretch of the valley. There were smaller, similar cabins—if you could call four-bedroom lodges cabins —spread out on both sides.

That morning, from the window of my room, I'd seen a vast training ground at the back of the main house, and more modern-looking buildings that might have been armories, gyms, stores, or even schools, for all I could tell. When I'd been running from the young males, the few shifters I'd seen in the distance had moved with purpose. Most of them had been wearing green and black fatigues, almost like they were preparing for war.

I glanced back at Brand's perfectly sculpted ass, fighting my own war against the growing urge to give in to the irresistible attraction.

In minutes, we'd reached the kitchen, where Brand ordered the staff to get me food. Then, before they could comply, he waved them aside, muttering, "I'll feed her myself," before unloading most of the fridge.

By the time he was done, the stainless-steel kitchen prep table was practically groaning with all sorts of finger foods: pastries, small pies topped with fresh berries, mini quiches, chive-topped puffs that smelled like salmon, and a dozen other things I'd never seen before.

"Where the fuck is the real food?" Brand grumbled into the fridge.

"I think this is food," I said, popping a tiny quiche into my mouth.

"Need something more substantial. Fried chicken, or steak. Ham." He grunted, yanking open another silver refrigerator door. "Oh, venison. That'll do nicely."

One of the cooks cleared her throat. "Alpha Heir, that's the dinner."

She snapped her jaw shut when Brand whirled on her. "Did you know this young woman wasn't fed when we arrived?" When the cook only stared at him blankly, he went on. "The same woman who saved Margarette from dying."

Everyone gasped, and the kitchen staff began making a fuss, preparing a plate for me. I dug in, eating fast while Brand watched, and ignoring the whispers from the staff. Finally, when I couldn't stuff another bite in—or avoid the whispers that had become questions—he half-lifted me from the stool and gently pulled me toward the door.

"Where are we going?"

"To kill Glen," he answered matter-of-factly. "Idiot shouldn't have left you. Needs to pay."

I pulled away. "Don't bother him. He didn't know, I'm sure. And he's going through so much with his dad and mom both…"

Brand let out a sigh, then called out, "Need the butler. Norris?"

A door I hadn't even noticed opened in the wall, and a man dressed in a far fancier version of the uniform I had on stepped out. "Alpha Heir, how may I assist?"

"This woman is a guest of the Hilliers. She was mistakenly placed in the servants' quarters. Where is her guest room?"

The man bowed, literally, to me and Brand. "We have been looking for her for hours. Mrs. Hillier has provided clothing and all the comforts in the Goldenrod Room." His eyes fell on me, moving from my ear tag to my tattered and stained maid's uniform. "Alpha Heir, you've been requested to attend Alpha Mate Hillier in the family sitting room before dinner." When Brand snarled, the butler tilted his head to one side in submission, but went on. "If you allow me, I will take our guest to her room myself. I'll be certain she comes to no further mischief."

"Mischief. Is that what they call it here?" I mumbled as Brand lifted my chin with one finger.

His voice was low and intense. "I won't leave your side."

I smirked, though his eyes had me melting just a little. "Gonna get in the shower with me, Bearman?"

His voice was rough as he replied curtly, "If you need me to."

I could tell he meant it. My ovaries practically pulsed. God, I really needed a cold shower now.

A part of me wanted to take him up on his offer, but I shook my head. "I trust Norris here to get me to my room, and Margarette asked for you. I won't leave my room until dinnertime. I'll see you there?"

Brand bowed and murmured, "I'll see you, and I'll feed you, little flower."Then he turned, purpose in his steps.

"Don't kill Glen!" I called.

"No promises," he threw over his shoulder.

I stared into the full-length mirror that sat in one corner of the very plush, but impersonal guest room. The best part of the room—apart from the deadbolt lock on the door—was the en- suite bathroom.I'd spent a half hour in the tub, then used some of the products in the vanity to smooth my short hair into a style, rather than the now-normal ragged mop.

The clothes, though, I hadn't bothered with. They were all fancy, frilly dresses, and none of them had any place to stash my steak knife. After the initial reception I'd gotten here, I wasn't going to take one step out of this room without a weapon.

I'd found a pair of thin navy sweatpants in the bottom drawer, along with a plain sweatshirt, and decided they would have to do. I could run in this, even stash my knife in the holder the Enforcer had bought me.

I strapped it on while I thought about the day's unexpected Hunt. The young males had chased me, but they weren't like the ones at Southern. They'd seemed excited, but also confused that I'd run. I had a feeling Vanessa had told them I was interested in fucking them, and that this was some sort of foreplay thing.

But the way the other unranked girl had said she had somewhere to hide still bothered me. These males had chased unranked women before. Had those females wanted the attention?

I didn't think all of them had.

After the first hour, some older shifters had heard the young males sniffing around the base of the trees where I was hidden, and came to see what was happening. They'd forced the males hunting me to shift, explain themselves, and leave. The older males had seemed pissed at the idea of a female hiding from a pack of males, and had read the riot act to the jerks, but I still wasn't sure what the real story was.

The older ones could've been mad that the young ones had chased me, or that I had escaped them. For all I knew, all the ranked males here helped themselves to the unranked females. And maybe the women were willing.

But I hadn't been.

If those males had thought it was fine to chase down a maid, this place could be the prettiest pack house in North America, and it would still be rotten at the core. Brand's presence—and his promise—was the only reason I hadn't kept running.

I didn't want to think about how it felt to discover Northern wasn't a safe place for me, or possibly for any unranked shifters, not that I'd know who those might be. They didn't wear ear tags here, after all. Maybe they all wore servants' uniforms? My heart sank.

I should have been fine; I was used to unranked shifters like me being treated like shit. But it hurt more for some reason here, now that I'd let myself hope for something better. Fucking hope again. When would I learn?

A soft knock on the door kept me from dwelling on my mistake.

"Who is it?" I called out.

A young woman's voice answered, "I'm here to take you to dinner." I swung open the door."Miss?" The maid's gaze went from my hair to my shoes, and she gulped nervously. "Did you not find the clothes?" Her eyes widened as she noted the ear tag I still wore.

"Are you… unranked?" I asked.

"Yes." She nodded, her hand moving to her neck. She didn't have a tag, but she wore a simple leather choker that must serve the same function: to mark the less worthy. Though it could have been just a piece of jewelry. Still, there were light bruises on her throat around it, like it had been used to choke her, or pull her around.

Once I tamped down my rage, I answered her. "I found some in the wardrobe, dresses mostly. They didn't suit me."

"They didn't fit? I'm so sorry; Miss Vanessa told me you wore small clothes. They're some of hers from when she was younger."

Vanessa again. I cursed quietly. "They looked like party dresses for a ten-year-old."

She cringed, for some reason. When I took a deeper breath and realized her scent had been on some of the clothes, it was my turn to be embarrassed. I hazarded a guess that she had put them here for me.

"Sorry. They're just way too fancy for someone like me. Are you going to get in trouble if I don't wear them?"

She sighed. "Probably not, but dinner here is formal. I'd try to find something else, but the meal has already started and if you're much later, I will get in trouble."

I didn't want that. "If anyone mentions the clothes, I'll take the blame. Where do unranked shifters eat?"

"So you really are unranked?" Her jaw dropped. "Why aren't you eating in the compound? Staying there?"

"Compound?" That sounded ominous. "Sounds like a prison."

"No, it's not like that. It's a block of dormitories on the other side of the training fields. They're not bad. It's just where we have to live until we test into the ranks." Something about her tone made me feel she wasn't telling the whole truth.

"Test?"

"Yes, there's one every quarter. The next one's in less than two weeks. I won't try to test until my little sister is old enough to rank up with me, though. That'll be a few years, so…" She tapped the leather choker again.

Huh. I'd have to ask about that, but she seemed skittish. Curiosity made me keep prying, though. "Why were you shocked I was eating here?"

"It's just… unranked shifters are almost never allowed in the Lodge, unless they're working. There's only twelve of us on the house staff. You met Marla, right? She said you had a room in our wing, but no assignment." I frowned. Her voice dropped below a whisper. "She was the one who told you to run."

I nodded, understanding. She started down the long hallway and motioned for me to follow. "Are the unranked ill-treated here? Starved?" I breathed the words softly, so only she would hear.

"No." Her green eyes flashed with curiosity. "Did someone say that?"

"No, but I come from Southern."

"Wow. I've heard it's a lot worse there." She stopped abruptly. "How bad is it, really?"

I'd been hunted for years, kicked, punched, beaten, starved, and almost killed. But all I said was, "Bad."

"You don't have a mate yet?" she asked, stopping at the junction of two hallways. "Most of the unmated shifters like to eat together."

"Nope. Happily unmated, thank you very much."

"Okay, then you'll be eating in the blue room, I suppose." Chewing her lip, she escorted me down the right hallway, then stopped at a door. The sounds of conversation and glasses clinking emerged from within. "Be careful in there," she whispered. "Southern won't have prepared you for this."

Before I could ask what she meant, I was escorted into a long, sumptuous room, and welcomed by a chorus of shrill laughter and raised voices.

Immediately, every eye fixed on me. Then a male voice bellowed, "Fresh meat!"