It seemed like he would be caught forever in that long-ago moment, stuck betwixt and between, unable to walk forward into the home he had shared with his mate or return fully to the present. It was a subjective eon, but only a few seconds inreal time before the reliving passed as they all had—so far—and he stood, once again, on a mountainside next to his car.
Sudden grief consumed him, as fresh as the day he’d found his mate’s body. His lungs refused to move and his heart forgot how to beat. If he could turn back centuries and exist only in a time where his Sarai lived, he would do that. He rested a hand on the open door of his car, grounding himself with the cool metal as he put his head down and fought to breathe through the pain.
He had not been able to figure out if such moments signaled an attack by the wolf who shared his battered, worn-out soul, or if it was some trick of the half of his brain that was human. But he had not had such a strong remembrance since his foster daughter, Mariposa, had died, at last, a few short years ago.
Dead or not, in each of the last two dates, Mariposa had taken a starring role. It was only to be expected that memory would hit him hard. But he would have preferred memories of Mariposa—she didn’t tear out his heart. Anymore.
The brisk mountain air cleared his head, but his wolf was enraged or grief-stricken—or possibly both. Asil could not tell. He considered the wisdom of taking a stranger on a date today, especially given the results of the first three dates. He needed to go back to the Marrok’s pack, where there was someone strong enough to stop him if he lost control of his wolf. Someone merciful enough to end him if he did not emerge from one of his relivings. He needed to cancel this foolishness.
In response to that thought—and he was certain that it was absolutely in response to that thought—a sudden stillness traveled through him from head to toe as, for that single moment, he felt something,someone, turn their attention to him.
And then that moment was gone.
Cold chills slid down his spine. He’d felt as though there was something afoot beyond bored werewolves who’d decided to involve the Moor in a game they could not win. There had been too many coincidences. Three dates—and all of them involved Asil putting spokes in the wheels of paranormal predators who were abusing innocents. Two of them had him cleaning up messes his foster daughter had left behind her.
Asil didn’t believe in coincidences. He did not.
Now he had confirmation that there were larger forces at work. Of course Allah had chosen the Moor to work his will. There was no better warrior at his disposal. Asil, who felt nearly as old and tired as he was, wished that there were someone more capable. But, of a certainty, there was not.
Asil smiled grimly. It appeared that he was going on a date, no matter how his grieving heart felt. He started toward the house.
It was unfortunate that the door to the big house opened at just that minute. The man crossing the porch and jogging down the stairs had not bothered with a coat—wolves didn’t feel the cold the way humans did, and this wolf in human form had no need to blend in.
He was bigger than Asil—not an unusual thing because Asil was not a tall man. The stranger’s face was scarred—most likely the marks of a knife. He carried authority on his shoulders with the unconscious grace of someone who was used to being in charge and getting things done, a mantle worn by people who knew what it was to kill in order to protect their own.
What he was not was the Alpha of the Emerald City Pack.
The world brightened and the shadows lost their power asAsil’s beast, frantic from the last few minutes—the reliving and the touch of Allah—focused on the approaching stranger with intent. Asil himself was mildly affronted at the insult—the Moor was not a lesser foe, someone to be handed off to lackeys. But it was his wolf who was, momentarily, in control.
Asil couldn’t push the wolf down—yet—but he did manage to stay where he was.
The big man, more observant than some, stopped, too, while there was still some twenty feet between them. The stranger’s eyes glinted with secret gold before he closed them. His muscles tightened as he fought, in turn, to hold his beast in check while Asil’s wolf’s presence stirred it to violence.
“My Alpha’s apologies,” said the man, keeping his eyes closed. He bit out those first three words as though every syllable caused his tongue to bleed. But he regained control of his voice and muted it to more courteous tones. “He had intended to be here, but one of our pack had a run-in with the police, and he had to go negotiate that wolf’s release.”
Andhe, the Moor, had been deemed the lesser threat? Asil’s wolf half lidded his eyes to better disguise his next course of action, deliberately keeping his muscles loose so the other wolf would not know when the attack would come.
“My Alpha said,” continued Not-the-Alpha, “if the Moor wishes us to die, we will die. He does not need me to give him leave to come to my city—it is a courtesy that he comes to us. Tell him that he is at all times a welcomed guest to me and mine, a thing freely given that we acknowledge the Moor could have taken if he chose.”
Oh, those words were sweet, like the words of a bard. They rang with sincerity and truth that allowed Asil to snatch backcontrol and rein in his wolf. It took a few moments, during which the Emerald City wolf waited silently.
Once Asil’s beast resettled itself into the dark corner of his soul, Asil relaxed and considered again the Emerald City Alpha’s words, delivered by his messenger. The speech had been both humble and clever, he decided, a statement designed to hold the Moor in chains of courtesy. That “guest” bound not only the Emerald City Pack but also Asil to an ancient and unwritten set of laws that this pup was probably too young to understand, though his Alpha, a cunning and vicious chess player, well knew how Asil would hear them.
The Emerald City Pack had just offered him a key to their territory, and such things could bite back. But he did not intend to do anything this day that should reflect badly upon the pack. If unexpected events changed that, Asil would let Angus decide what he wanted to do about it.
“I accept those terms,” Asil said.
Angus’s messenger looked up, and Asil realized how much effort he’d expended to be so quiet while Asil regained control. His eyes were wolf tinged and wild. Asil could tell that though this one was strong of will and power, he had not yet seen half a century as moon called. He was thus vulnerable to the wild turbulence of Asil’s wolf, when his own would have been unsettled by the task of delivering a message of submission to a strange wolf.
Especially a wolf who looked like Asil, who in human form was not large and was much too beautiful to be a threat. Asil had used that combination to his advantage. Countless wolves had fallen to his fangs, betrayed by their underestimation of just how dangerous he was.
It was not Asil’s purpose today to abuse his just-acceptedstatus as guest by forcing this perfectly fine and trusted member of Angus Hopper’s pack to attack him so Asil’s wolf could taste his blood.
That he was still considering doing that very thing meant Asil’s self-assessment of how well he was controlling his wolf was demonstratively wrong.
If not for his understanding that this mission was important, he would have driven back to Montana. In Seattle, the Marrok was too far away to help him. The Omega wolf Anna was too far away to help him. And he was reminded just why he had given up his Alpha status in Spain to travel all the way to the backwoods of Montana.
He had only himself here. He pulled that old wolf back again, tucking him deeper into his mind, trapping him in the steel of his will.
