Kelly Meade - Black Rook

Brynn didn’t censor her startled laughter.

“You saved my life,” he continued. “They’d have killed me if you hadn’t distracted them. Thank you.”

Brynn’s eyes burned with grateful tears. “It was my turn. Since the day we met, you’ve saved me more times than I can count.”

“I’m not keeping score.”

“If you keep me around, you may want to start.”

“No ifs, Brynn.” He gazed at her with an intensity that made her insides go liquid and her pulse race. Uncaring of her audience, she leaned forward and tried to kiss his cheek. He turned his head at the last moment and found her mouth with his, instead.

The kiss was gentle and sweet, the reaffirmation of a promise made the day before and nearly broken by the actions of others. She wanted to build a future with him, here in Cornerstone, and she put that silent desire into the press of her lips and the touch of her hands. His head moved ever so slightly, as if nodding his agreement.

She pulled back just enough to see his face, her entire body thrumming with life and purpose, and her heart filled with emotion. She’d walked into town five days ago certain that the precious man in front of her was a murderer, and now she would do anything to keep him safe.

I love him.

“He’s going to be all right?” Brynn asked, directing the question over her shoulder to McQueen.

“According to Dr. Mike, yes,” McQueen replied. “Rook needs to shift at least twice today, though, to make sure the muscles heal properly.”

Rook made a grumpy noise.

“Shifting while injured hurts a lot more than when you’re well,” Knight said. “Think of it like running a marathon over broken glass with two sprained ankles.”

“I needed that mental image, thanks,” Rook said.

“No problem.”

“Bite me.”

“I think I’ll leave that one to Brynn, if you don’t mind.”

Rook laughed, while Brynn blushed to the roots of her hair.

“You’ll get used to it,” McQueen said as he placed a warm hand on her shoulder.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Having more big brothers than you know what to do with.” He gave her shoulder another squeeze, then slipped out of the room. She stared at the half-shut door a moment, grateful for the silent acceptance into his family.

Brynn was finally home.

Rook finished toweling off, then cinched the blue terry around his waist. He stared at the fog-covered bathroom mirror, a little nervous to clean it off and look at the new him. After two grueling shifting sessions—made slightly easier by having both Brynn and Knight there—a six-hour nap, and one more thorough exam from Dr. Mike, Rook had been declared well enough to go home. As long as he took it easy for at least two days.

For a loup garou, “take it easy” was as simple an order to follow as flying a paper airplane in a hurricane.

He’d agreed, though, simply to go home again and sleep in his own bed. With Brynn by his side the entire night. She never commented on his scars, and he hadn’t wanted to see them. So while she went downstairs to check if there was any news on the three remaining hybrids, he hit the shower.

He cracked the door to allow some steam out, stepped up to the mirror, and swiped his palm across the condensation. Angled the left side of his body toward the mirror. His shoulder wasn’t as awful as Dr. Mike had feared it would be. Rook had lost a chunk of meat, thanks to Geary’s teeth, which made the height of his shoulders uneven. The skin was a craggy mess of scars, like someone had poured melted candle wax from his neck to just below his armpit. It would never hold a tan, but he hadn’t lost any use of the arm, and he was grateful for that. He’d make a lousy enforcer for his father—and one day, for Bishop—with only one good arm.

The other scars on his throat and legs were thin and nearly invisible unless you knew to look for them. He didn’t mind those.

The detail that bothered him the most was his left ear. The shell was intact, but the lobe was gone. Completely. He traced a finger over the jagged piece of cartilage and couldn’t help wondering which of his attackers had swallowed the missing steel gauge. His hearing didn’t seem to be affected at all—another thing he was grateful for—but the result made him look . . . incomplete.

The floorboards outside creaked, and Brynn’s floral scent tickled his nose before she knocked. He opened the door. Her startled eyes dropped to his towel for one brief, arousing instant, before returning to his face. She had a small box in her hands and an odd look on her face.

“What is it?” he asked.

“My father sent me a package.”

They took the book-sized box into his room. She hobbled a bit, taking her time, still getting used to the walking boot Dr. Mike had strapped to her ankle. He scented the box, but found nothing unusual or potentially harmful. Inside the shipping box was a smaller wooden box with a brass clasp. Brynn opened that. A folded note card fell out onto her lap. In the box, on a bed of red velvet, was a gold necklace. Attached to the chain was a pendant the size of a nickel, a simple clear jewel on a flat gold setting.

Brynn unfolded the card, which had a message written in fancy letters. “My daughter,” she read, “Please accept this gift as my most sincere apology for the lies that I have told you. You were innocent in these lies, and yet you have taken the brunt of the consequences. Wear this necklace. It will warn you when the remaining hybrid children are near. This is all I can offer in the way of assistance, as you have clearly chosen your loyalties. I never meant to hurt you. Be well. Archimedes.”

Her hands were shaking by the time she finished reading the note. Rook pried it from her hands, put the card and box on the bed, then pulled her into his arms. She curled against him and tucked her head beneath his chin. He held her tight, rocking gently, stroking her hair.

“Do you think the necklace is legitimate?” he asked after she’d stopped trembling.

“I do. He gains no advantage by sending a fake. I think he’s as scared of the hybrids as we are. With Fiona gone, he won’t be able to control them.”

“Frankenstein has lost his monster.”

“Exactly.”

“Why would he do this? He despises the loup. Why try to help me when I’m loup myself and have chosen to live with his enemies?”

“Because you’re his daughter. Fathers love their children.”

The statement was certainly true for loup parents, but what about the Magi? Had Archimedes loved Fiona? Or the triplets? Would he be able to murder his own child to stop the monster he’d unleashed? Rook didn’t know. He was only glad that Brynn’s father didn’t seem to hate her completely. “I love you,” he said. The words popped out, startling Rook, and his pulse jumped.

Brynn pulled back so she could look at his face. Her eyes gleamed, and she was smiling like she’d just discovered the greatest secret in the world. “I love you, too,” she said. “Given our beginnings, I’d have never expected to love you so much so quickly.”

He drew a finger down her cheek, from ear to jaw. “Me too. You’re mine.”

She did the same across the rougher skin of his left cheek. “And you’re mine. Ragged ear and all.”

He laughed, and then she did, too, and together, their laughter created the most beautiful music he’d ever played.