Chapter 14

Briar May

“I’m not taking him as my mate. You had no right to go behind my back.”

She’d never seen her bother look so at a loss. Kieran’s mouth opened and closed while he tried to find the right words.

“One day,” she seethed. He sat on her couch, in her living room, drinking the tea she’d brewed for him. She’d even brought out the cookies she’d made, though she could barely stomach them. “I’ve been back one day and you’re already trying to control me.”

After admitting the full truth to him, including the fact that she was pregnant, he’d asked her to allow their parents to come and get her from Casper and drive her home to the pack so she could see Brooke Wind.

“Little sister. I’m not trying to control you. I just thought that when you asked me to find a way to have Castor returned here so you could ensure he was unharmed and still maintain the peace, that you’d see that this was the only way I could do that.”

“Just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean I’m going to commit my life to a man I barely know.”

“I’m so confused,” Kieran admitted. He turned his palms up to her so she could see how sincere he was. “I thought this was what would make you happy.”

“I never once mentioned taking him as a mate.”

Her brother just stared at her.

She set her hand on her stomach. “You think I’m being irrational because I’m pregnant. Let’s go over to the big cabin and see what Zora has to say about a statement like that.”

He paled when she mentioned his mate. “I certainly am not implying any such thing. If you don’t want to take the man as a mate, no one is going to force you.”

It probably didn’t help that when she’d called him, she’d ended up weeping. All the hurt of losing Castor, all her heart sickness at not knowing if he was alright, all her bitterness at being left by him and not so much as contacted afterward, spilled out right at the beginning of the conversation. It seemed as though everyone was trying to decide her future for her, without asking what she wanted. And while she’d entertained thoughts of Castor and a life they could have together—would he truly want this?

He was a warrior, a free spirit. Somehow, she couldn’t imagine him settling down in the wilds of Wyoming. He’d been released to return to his pack, now her asshole brother was recalling him, and was he actually going to force Castor to marry her?

“You could have asked me.”

“I could have. Yes. I should have. I’m sorry. It was the only thing I could think of. You have to know he can’t stay here unless he’s your mate. Even so, it would be a hard ask, to have our people accept someone like him.”

There she was, adamant that she wasn’t about to do something as sacred and life altering as become Castor’s mate, and the next minute she was willing to tear her brother apart at even the hint of that slight. “Someone like him?” Her lips pulled back from her teeth.

Kieran leapt off the couch and put a hand on her arm. “Briar May. This has been hard for you and for all of us. All our emotions are strained to the point of breaking, but yours especially. The man is an outsider, from a brutal, war-like pack. He’s as different from us as anything anyone has ever known. Trusting a man who is a known killer, who kidnapped you and was held here as a prisoner, it’s a big ask. We don’t accept outsiders here unless they are mates or adopted into a family. I’ve made changes but they can only go so far.”

Tears pricked her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. She was so ashamed. It felt like her world had changed so much over the past few weeks that her mind and body were having difficulty catching up. Her body clearly thought that Castor was her mate, she’d spoken with her mother about the bonding scent and the incident after her kidnapping that had set everything in motion. Usually, it was something that happened during sex to bring the couple together. She’d burned with embarrassment as her mother had explained this and had noted to herself, that nothing had happened when they’d actually slept together.

Her mother had told her that sometimes it could happen during moments of great emotion or fear too, as a way to draw the mate closer for protection. Briar May supposed that’s what had happened in the Jeep, her body panicked, and Castor had responded. He’d saved her. But did this mean that everything was her fault? Did she actually have feelings for him, or was it all forced? She bowed her head because she couldn’t even look her brother in the eye. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Like I said, it’s been hard. Zora said the whole time she was pregnant, her wolf struggled with being trapped inside her. It felt like she was at war with herself in addition to carrying twins. She was exhausted.”

“I want to know who says we can’t shift while we’re pregnant. Someone has to have done it. Why not just stay as a wolf the whole time and—”

“Kieran!” Zora burst through the door, heaving and panicked.

Briar May’s heart nearly tore straight out of her chest at the scare. Something was wrong. The twins? No, please no. There she was, being pathetically selfish instead of the least bit grateful that her brother had tried to help her, all the while a horrible tragedy was unfolding.

Kieran grasped her arms and bent down to her. “What is it, Zora? What’s happened?”

It was clear in a second that whatever tragedy had unfolded wasn’t anything related to the twins. It was about her. Zora shot her a sincere look of apology before she responded. “Tavin and the other guards just brought… they brought Castor in.”

“What do you mean brought him in?” Kieran was calm, but Briar May stumbled back. She fell into the chair. The room tilted and something was making a terrible sound. The wind, whipping through her cabin. No. Not the wind. Not the scream of the weather. Not torn open shutters and broken glass windows and doors thrown open. It was her. She was making that terrible keening sound.

When her eyes focused again, she found Zora right in front of her. Her sister-in-law wrapped her arms around her neck, pulling her close. “Sweetheart. I didn’t mean like that. He’s alive. He was dropped off at our border, from what we’ve gathered. He hasn’t said much. He’s…”

Briar May waited. And waited. She cast her eyes to the side and saw Kieran doing the same, pensive and pale. His face hardened too. It was his alpha face, the inscrutable look of a leader who had to think first and let emotions come second, at least while everyone was watching. He could take the time later to process and talk and try to make a wise decision. She’d seen her father do the same and look the same so many times throughout her life.

“He’s what? Tell me!” Briar May pressed, though the words rose up in her throat along with her stomach. She swallowed over and over until the bitterness passed, until she was no longer shaking. She was still sweating. Her whole body was cold even though the cabin was warm, and the height of summer bloomed in its rich palette of blue skies, green grass, myriads of flowers, and golden sunshine. “Zora. Please.”

“He’s not himself. He’s fevered. I don’t know how he even knew which direction to walk. It’s like he’s not seeing anything at all. My mother would probably call it delirious, though most people can’t even get out of bed when they’re like that.”

“What?” Briar May tried to shoot out of the chair again, but Zora pressed her back.

“Easy. He’s been taken to the big cabin. We’ve already sent Tavin for your mom. I came to get you because I need to prepare you.”

“He’s sick. I need to go to him.”

Zora glanced at Kieran sidelong without meaning to, begging him like she needed the strength to say whatever it was that she’d seen. Was it so awful she felt that she had to protect and shield her from it? Yes. Whatever it was, Zora had come with the clear mindset that it was so upsetting, she needed to go slow or risk something terrible happening given that Briar May was pregnant.

She was no delicate flower. She’d been healthy her whole life. Brooke said that morning sickness was a good sign, even if it was difficult to endure. The ginger and peppermint teas Brooke prepared and left with her and the huge bag of peppermints she’d been given to suck on at pretty much all times helped tremendously.

She needed one now. They were in the kitchen. She could already feel the saliva gathering in her mouth.

She burst out of the chair and Zora, having been pregnant herself and also having attended countless women under her mother’s training, anticipated exactly why Briar May moved so fast. She got out of the way, but she followed her to the bathroom. The cabin was small, so thankfully she made it in time. Zora leaned over with her, holding her hair out of the way and stroking her back.

It was always so painful, so forceful, like her entire insides were struggling to come up along with whatever small amounts of food she actually could get down.

Briar May leaned back, panting.

Zora flushed for her, then got her a cloth and a glass of water. The peppermints were kept in every room, in little glass jars. Zora got her one of those too. It was the chalky kind, circular shaped and thick. Briar May accepted it on her tongue with gratitude. She slowly sipped the water and she let Zora wipe her face clean.

“I’m sorry.” She was so embarrassed. So small. So lost.

“Honey, my mom is a midwife and a healer. I trained with her since I was a little girl. Plus, I’m a mother myself. I am definitely no stranger to any sort of mess.”

“You won’t tell me what happened. You think it’s going to hurt me.” She swallowed convulsively. “It won’t. I’m strong. Please. None of you can keep me from seeing him. If you don’t want me to shift and tear apart every single person standing between me and him, then you have to tell me. I can’t control the wolf unless you tell me. If she thinks he’s dying, I don’t know what she’ll do.”

She’d just said Castor wasn’t her mate, and there she was, contemplating the same bloodthirsty berserker behavior Rome had displayed when his beloved was taken from him.

Never officially his mate, but she was. Shewas.

Sweet, submissive, darling little Briar May who used to pretty much be afraid of her own shadow, who had tried to talk herself into being okay with a life that was stagnating all around her, who had experienced nothing of the outside world. She was, barely holding herself together, but only because what wanted to come out of her was something vicious and scary. The wolf in a way that no one had ever seen. She wasn’t far enough along in her pregnancy for the shift to truly do any harm, at least she thought, but even still, she wasn’t going to let the wolf have control.

But there was a point where she wouldn’t have any say any longer.

“No one is going to keep you from him.” Zora’s hand was blissfully cool on her forehead, and then she cupped her face like someone twice her age, someone twice as wise, would do. Like Brooke would. Zora looked so much like her mother. They were both dark haired and beautiful. Soft. Trustworthy. A person you could tell just by looking at once that they had a great amount of love and knowledge, tenderness and goodness in them.

It was no wonder Kieran had taken one look at Zora when they were practically just kids and fallen completely in love.

She waited as Zora searched her face, waiting for her to calm down. She tried to steady herself and her breathing, but that was easier than it sounded. It was still choppy. She inhaled and scented her brother. He smelled like fresh herbs, the kids, like sunshine and earth and familiar wolves. He was still there waiting for them in the living room, probably tortured and uncertain and pained. He wasn’t just her alpha. He was her older brother and he felt responsible for her wellbeing.

He wouldn’t leave without Zora either.

“Where are the twins?”

Zora’s soft smile was full of a mother’s love. “With your mother and Silas in their cabin. I brought them over immediately.”

“Did they see?”

There was the smallest hesitation, then Zora exhaled forcefully. “Yes. For a second. Not everything. They know someone is hurt and has to stay at our cabin and that their grandma is coming. They’re not afraid. They have all of us to protect them.”

“I’m so glad they’re okay.” The sight of their tears when she’d made it back home would forever be burned into her memory. They didn’t seem to suffer any ill effects of that day. They’d made it back to the big cabin unharmed and told Kieran everything. They’d just been so happy she was home they wouldn’t stop crying and hugging her and telling her how much they loved her.

“Okay.” One inhale. A huge one. One long exhale. Zora’s, not hers. She couldn’t manage even that much. “Castor’s pack, they gave their word he would be unharmed, but he’s not.”

“No!” Briar May’s fingers grasped Zora’s upper arms. They bit in hard, but Zora didn’t even seem to feel it.

“We don’t know what happened, his pack alpha said it was family business,” Zora said, though her words seemed to float in the air. All Briar May could think of was that this was all somehow her fault.

“He’s running a fever, which has to mean something is infected, but my mom will treat him. She’s the best healer in the state. I have faith in her. He’ll be okay from what I saw, but that was just a quick assessment. I know he’s a hardened man who has done things. He was raised in the kind of environment I can’t even imagine. Like something from centuries ago. He looks like he’s been lost in time, dropped in the wrong era, but this kind of barbaric deed, it’s unfathomable.”

Briar May let out a keening wail and Zora clutched her face tighter. “I’m sorry. I’m making it worse. I just need to prepare you, but there are no words. He’s clothed, but I can’t even begin to guess what’s underneath. His face is a wreck. Broken, swollen, and cut up. I think the rest of him is in worse shape.”

She choked back a sob. “Please. Help me there. I don’t know if I can even walk, but I’ll crawl if I have to.”

“No. No. Darling, no. Kieran! Kieran!”

Kieran careened into the bathroom looking half like a ghost. “Will you carry Briar May to the cabin? She’s in shock and she’s not well, but she needs to be there with Castor.” His doubt was visible, but Zora pressed on. “Please. She needs him and he needs her just as badly.”

Though he was alpha and a big man in the prime of his life, Kieran bowed his head to his much smaller, daintier wife’s decision. His trust and love for her shone so plainly in the look they shared, that Briar May started sobbing when he wrapped his arms around her. Zora kept one hand on her back as she was lifted and she walked beside them all the way out of Briar May’s cabin, down the gravel road one street over, and into the big cabin.

That cabin, above all other buildings anywhere, would always be special to her because it was the place where she’d been raised. The exposed beams in the ceiling, round golden logs, the huge porch, green door, wood stove and fireplaces, the soft curtains and bright splashes of art normally cheered Briar May, but now they barely registered.

The sight of the two guards, Philip and Stefan, at the foot of the large wooden staircase with the huge log posts made her heart catch. She thrashed in Kieran’s arms, suddenly desperate to be put down. She had to get past those men. She had to fly up the stairs and find which bedroom they’d put Castor in.

Briar May couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d somehow cursed him. She’d had a bad feeling that he wasn’t okay being sent back to his pack, but she’d waited to act.

“Where is he?” Kieran still hadn’t put her down yet, even though she was twisting and turning in his arms. She put the question to both men, but they just tilted their faces to the top of the stairs.

Kieran brushed past them, carrying her without jostling her. He didn’t set her down until he’d checked every bedroom and found the one they wanted.

Nothing could ready her for the sight of what had been a strong, whole, beautifully fearsome warrior now broken and bruised. He sat on the edge of the queen bed.

Kieran could hardly set her down before she was moving. She flailed through the room and threw herself at Castor’s feet. He was dressed and wearing boots, but the parts of him she could see were so wrecked that it was almost as though he’d already joined the ranks of the dead. His one eye was completely swollen shut, and the other was only open a crack, just enough for her to see the blood and fog.

He didn’t look like he knew where he was, though how she could read anything from a face so battered and torn, everything swollen and cut up, she wasn’t sure. He proved her wrong when he inhaled and turned his face to her.

“Briar May…”

“Yes! Castor, I’m here.”

He reached down and somehow, he hauled her up. His arms closed around her. A broken sob tore out of her, but she was relieved to feel the strength in his muscles still, even if he was trembling. His hand shook so badly that it was like he was patting her head when he tried to touch her hair.

“Are you real? Are you safe?”

“Yes.” She wanted to touch him all over, but she was afraid that she’d hurt him. “I’m safe. And so are you.” She pushed her face into his shoulder, afraid she wouldn’t have the fortitude to get through this. She needed to be strong because all he had was her. She couldn’t break down or break apart now when it mattered more than anything. “I know how much you hate people taking care of you, but please, let me. Let us.” She tried to reach around to put her hand on his back.

He didn’t make a sound because he wouldn’t, ever, no matter what kind of butchery was done to him, but she pulled her hand away and moaned when her fingers came away red. She couldn’t panic. She swallowed that down too, shutting it up inside her.

“We need to see. To help you, we need to see, Castor. Will you let me? Can I take off your shirt? Will you let me touch you? I’ll be as gentle as I can, I promise.”

He inclined his head like he was looking up at her, but she doubted he could see anything at all except a blurry haze through the one barely open eye, and maybe nothing even then. He finally gave a tight nod.

She trailed her fingers down to the hem of his black t-shirt. He looked so much the same as before, in those black fatigues, but she knew he wasn’t the same man at all. That same dread washed over her, that she wasn’t strong enough to be able to do this. She wasn’t strong enough to be what Castor needed.

She didn’t have a choice. She knew that. Even if she did, she wouldn’t allow anyone else near him. She knew that too.

She inched the t-shirt up from the front, each minute seeming to take an hour. She wasn’t aware of anyone else in the world. It was just them. When the cotton stuck and wouldn’t inch up any higher, it felt like a bomb went off in the room, the shrapnel hitting her right in the chest.

“I think we need to soak it off.” There was fresh blood, but obviously old, dried blood too. She wasn’t about to tear off his flesh and cutting the shirt off wouldn’t work either. “Will you come to the bath with me? It’s just down the hall.” There was an unblemished patch of skin under Castor’s right ear, like it had been missed in the horrible onslaught of death rained down on him. She put her lips there. Inhaled. Exhaled. He barely smelled like him. Blood, salt, pain, earth. No bright lemon, licorice and dark spices.

The pressure in her chest built until the only thing she could do to release it was to sob, but she wasn’t going to break down again. She could do something else to release that pressure. She could do something horrible. War and violence. She wanted to take vengeance on whoever had done this to him. She wanted to make them pay.

“Castor? Will you come with me?”

His face rubbed hers, their noses almost touching. He gave a weak nod.

She stood up and put one of his arms around her shoulder and tried to pull him to standing. He tried to help her but couldn’t quite manage.

“Little sister.” Kieran appeared in her field of vision like a shadow. She wanted to lash at him and punch him and scream at him not to touch Castor, but that would be ridiculous. He only wanted to help. She had to get herself under control.

Kieran was gentle. He supported the broken man as carefully as he’d carried her. Together, they walked down the hall. She’d said the bath, but the best option seemed to be the walk-in glass shower. It was large and easy to get in and out of with someone who was barely clinging to consciousness.

She didn’t have to say anything. Kieran headed straight there. He opened the door, and they slipped in together. She turned the spray on, blocking it with her own body until it was warm. Castor made a noise of shock when the water washed over him, but only because he was so fevered. She could feel the fire coming off his skin in waves. She adjusted the water, turning it down to lukewarm and then a little bit colder. She was right about the temperature when Castor leaned into it, craving that chill against the inferno of his body.

Kieran tilted him enough that she could work his t-shirt off. She went slow again so she didn’t damage him past what had already been done to him.

“Fuck,” Kieran hissed. She hadn’t looked at Castor’s back yet.

Her brother stopped her, tilting Castor away so she got his chest.

How could his back be worse? She gasped at the partly healed, weeping, red wounds there. Not just knife marks. Letters.

Betrayer.

She was astonished that it was possible to even feel so much anger. The violence in her was real. She felt unstable. She wanted to scream out bloody vengeance. She wanted to find them and kill them all. Tear them apart. No one hurt Castor that way. No one.

“They gave their word.” Her voice was dangerous. Brittle. A hiss. She sounded half possessed. “Their word means nothing. They broke their oath.”

Vengeance will be mine.

“Briar May!” Kieran’s hand closed over hers. She didn’t realize that she’d pressed her nails into her palm until she’d drawn her own blood. Kieran forced her hand open. She wanted to tear her clothes. Her hair. Tear great gashes in her arms. “I know what you’re feeling, but he wouldn’t want that under any circumstance. He’s alive. He’s hurting badly. He needs you to stay right here, little sister. Don’t go there. Not in your head. Not in your heart. Not with your wolf. Just one breath.” Kieran drew one in. Castor groaned and leaned harder against her brother.

Because she needed to get out of the shower and get Castor in bed, on his side, where they could clean and examine his wounds, where Brooke Wind could see him and treat him, where healing could finally begin, she breathed in until her chest felt like it would explode. She brought her own hand up to the back of her neck and squeezed, wishing it was Castor’s firm, rough, grounding touch.

He wasn’t her mate yet, but he’d stamped his ownership all over her in every way and she knew she’d change nothing.

She was his.

They were fated.

Rome was right even when he’d argued both sides. He was right about all of it, and how did that even make sense?

“Kieran.” She drew her brother’s eyes to Castor’s chest.

He exhaled roughly then, nearly losing control of himself. Their eyes met, a clash of fire and blood, but they both let the falling water extinguish it because they had to.

“They’ve flayed the skin from his back too. I know you’ll see it, but I wanted to prepare you first. There’s nothing left.”

She was on fire now. Her heart beat too hard. The urge to fight and kill and hack and maim, to take up Castor’s axes and wreak vengeance herself, was unbearable. Her hands closed into fists again and she forced them open with difficulty. She set them on Castor’s hip, on bruised skin. There wasn’t a single space that wasn’t wounded.

Kieran eventually turned off the spray. They walked Castor back to the bedroom. “I don’t know how far those injuries go,” Kieran said, lowering Castor onto the bed. He helped him in, doing most of the work, pulling back the blankets and getting him onto his side. There was no way he could be put down on his back or his stomach. Her brother’s gaze clashed with hers again. “I’ll leave you to take the rest off. Pull the sheet up over him if you can, but only if it’s not going to stick to him. I think healing trumps modesty, but even so, I’ll make sure only Brooke comes in here when she arrives. It shouldn’t be long.”

The unthinkable reared itself in her head. How could anyone survive such barbaric atrocities? What if Castor still couldn’t?

“Brooke will be able to help. She’s healed some nasty wounds before. We’re stronger than just humans. We heal fast. This looks bad and the scars will be deep but… He’s a warrior, if he’s survived so far, then he’ll live. It’s going to be okay, I promise.”

Another promise that means nothing. Another word given that could be broken.

Her brother wasn’t Castor’s pack. He hadn’t known this would happen. There was no way he would have returned Castor if he could have foreseen this. She couldn’t be angry with Kieran. He’d probably bargained long and hard to get Castor back. It probably galled whoever had done this to him deeply that they hadn’t been able to finish the job.

“He’s not safe here,” she stated, all the emotion finally having bled out of her. “Tell them he died. We’ll leave together when he’s well enough.”

Kieran’s eyes widened. He was struggling with himself over that. Before he could promise her anything further, Zora knocked sharply on the door and appeared, holding her hands over her mouth, tears glistening on both cheeks.

“My mother is here now. I’ll send her up if you’re okay with that, Briar May.”

They were asking her permission now, as though Castor was her mate already. Like he belonged to her. She was going to be in charge of his healing. She wouldn’t leave his side. She’d protect him no matter the cost.

Even if that meant faking his death and ultimately rejecting him so that he could live a free life somewhere where no one from his pack would ever find him again.

Somewhere far away from her, and the trouble that she had brought to him.