Roaring Up the Wrong Tree (9 page)

The man speaking kept droning on and on only now his attention was on her as well. He’d moved on to blessing the pack, licking his lips between statements.

Heath wrapped his other hand around her throat, his thumb pressed against the hollow beneath one ear while his index finger stroked the other. His palm spanned her neck and it’d take one rapid move to tear her throat from her body.

From the corner of her eye, she watched Mrs. Scott’s gaze swing to her and then flick to Heath. “You can’t kill her. Your father wouldn’t have wanted that, more’s the pity. Just be thankful that his will requires her to stay near her ‘family’ in Boyne Falls.”

Heath leaned down, speaking to her once again. “I won’t kill you, will I, Tris? This is just a game we play, Mother. One that I’ll win this time around and with father’s last wish, we’ll get to play this game for a long time coming.”

Trista didn’t hear the rest of the speech. No, she was too focused on the pack watching her, on Mrs. Scott staring at the blood that now soaked into her shirt, and on the wounds Heath inflicted.

The fingers in her shoulder weren’t the only ones that burned her. No, he tightened his grip on her throat, squeezing harder and harder with each passing second until his claws pierced her skin.

More burning assaulted her. More heat and agonizing pain pumped through her veins in an increasing tempo. Even she smelled her blood now and she cursed her mom for making her come to this stupid funeral with this stupid pack.

She cursed herself, too. She’d never told her mother about Heath’s treatment. Her wounds had always been healed by the time she got home from school. There was no point worrying her. Besides, Trista’s pain was nothing when compared to what her mom would endure if her mother went to Mr. Scott and complained about Trista’s abuse.

Trista complained once, and only once. After her mom came home covered in bruises and smelling like Mrs. Scott, Trista never said anything again. Ever.

She shoulda said something before they left the apartment.

While Heath dug his fingers deeper, she held onto Mrs. Scott’s words.
“You can’t kill her. Your father wouldn’t have wanted that, more’s the pity.”

She just had to endure.

Tears pricked her eyes, gathering as more agony filled her body. It was so much worse than ever before and she wondered when it’d end,
if
it’d end before she passed out from the pain.

When spots danced before her eyes, she wasn’t so sure.

Heath dragged his index finger across her throat, digging into her skin, and she wondered if he’d cut her there, too. When another round of rolling pain hit her, she decided he had.

She gasped as it joined with the rest of the hurts bouncing through her, assaulting her with invisible claws.

This was different—new—and she decided she’d never, ever, come to Boyne Falls again.

The man speaking finally finished his speech, still not talking to the crowd, but focused on her. They were all intent on her, on her wounds.

Hungry.

They looked so very, very hungry.

Trista swallowed, forcing Heath’s nails even deeper, and she tried to remember some of that stupid biology class she was taking this year. Was he near one of those “holy crap, I’m dead in a minute from blood loss” artery things?

She hoped not.

Then again, that’d be killing her and Mrs. Scott said—

“He’s been laid to rest. Are you ready to go to the house?” Heath murmured and she remained still, fighting not to flinch. “Or would you like to go home?”

Home. She wanted to go home.

“We’ll leave the territory now, if that’s okay, Alpha.” She prayed that using his new fancy title would make him happy and he’d let her go.

The pain was overwhelming her now, pushing deeper and deeper until she wondered if it’d reach her soul and crush it.

“Hmm…” He straightened and tugged his hand free of her shoulder, scraping furrows into her flesh.

Tears streamed from her eyes then, coursing down her cheeks, and she didn’t care if all the stupid hyenas saw.

“I suppose you’re free to go.” He gave the same treatment to her throat, drawing a line over her skin.

The second she was free, she bolted to her feet and headed toward the gathered crowd. It was the quickest path to her mom’s car, to her mom, to safety.

Heath’s cackling laugh chased her and she increased her speed, forcing her to move faster, to almost break into a flat-out run.

Other chuckles flowed in her wake, the sounds of their animals and not men. Then—she was gonna die—the snap and crack of bones reached her. They were shifting. One or all? It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter because Mr. Scott told Heath and Mrs. Scott they couldn’t kill her, but she didn’t know if that applied to the rest of the pack.

Trista shoved past the last line of shifting hyenas, breaking free of the crowd. Blood flowed down her neck and stained her shirt, but she forced herself to run, to push beyond the bone-melting pain that filled her.

They’d swarm her, attack her, if she faltered. Hell, she didn’t even know if she’d make it to her mom’s car.

Her mother’s vehicle came into view just as the first hyena snapped at her jeans, jaws barely missing the cloth. Stricken eyes met Trista’s, her mom’s face paling, and she could only imagine what she saw.

This was what she’d hidden over the years and now it was being shoved in her face.

Her mom reached for the door handle and Trista shook her head. She needed to start the car. When indecision covered her mother’s face, she shook her head again. Then she clutched her shoulder, squeezing it in an effort to stem the pain. It burned so hot and she thought she’d die from the agony of the wound.

Teeth finally did snag her pants, almost tripping her and sending her to the ground, but she righted herself and kept moving. Stopping would get her killed.

As soon as she neared, her mother unlatched the passenger door, allowing it to swing open.

The heated breath of a hyena on her left teased her, telling her of its closeness, and she shifted right just as it snapped at her shirt.

When it came near again, she focused, bent her arm, and elbowed the animal in the face. If she had the energy, she would have smiled at its pained yelp. Instead, she pushed harder, ran faster.

The car was only fifteen feet away. Then ten.

Another bite had her jerking away from the attacker on her right and she fought to keep her balance. She was so close…

It did it again and this time she spared a moment to kick at the animal, nailing it in the shoulder. She smiled when it went tumbling to the ground. They seemed to forget who they were chasing, who’d fathered her. Even if her mom was human, Trista was still strong as heck.

Another thing that pissed them off.

Trista stumbled the last few feet, grasping the edge of the door, and she used it to stay upright. She scrambled into the passenger seat, snatching her foot back just as one hundred fifty pounds of hyena slammed into the panel, shoving it closed.

Her mom didn’t utter a word, didn’t make a sound as she slammed the beat-up car in reverse and peeled out of the parking spot.

The rest of the pack flowed toward them like a claw—and fang—lined river, swarming their car.

“Go, Mom!” Trista yelled over their snarling attackers while she waited for her mother to slam the car into drive.

One furred body slammed into the side, sending them rocking. Another jumped on the trunk and fell against the back window, cracking the glass. Yet another hyena vaulted onto the vehicle, sliding across the hood with an earsplitting screech. Finally orange-brown eyes met hers; familiar eyes. Its paws were soaked in her blood and the redness surrounded his maw. Hers or someone else’s?

When he dropped a shoulder and attacked the glass, it didn’t matter. One slam became two, became four, and still her mother sat frozen as Heath fought his way through the front windshield.

“
Go!
”

Before it was too late. Before Heath succeeded. Before— A final crunch gave him space to reach his arm past the glass and Trista ducked. He caught her hair, yanking the strands, as well as a hint of her flesh. The claws scraped her jaw, sliding along the curved line.

Trista’s fear filled her voice, pain on its heels, and she screamed once again. “
Go!
”

A scream rent the air, snatching him from his restless sleep and into wakefulness in an instant. Keen’s bear recognized the source before his human half realized his eyes were open. Fur burst from his pores, his hands transforming into claws, and his teeth pushed through his gums in a stinging rush.

He gained his feet in a fluid dash, rolling from the bed and striding toward the bathroom. He shoved the pocket door aside, sending it crashing into the wall, and the one leading to Trista’s room received the same treatment.

His bear scanned the area, its senses focusing on their surroundings while the human part of his mind got his body into further motion. He flew over the carpet, racing to the struggling pile of woman and blankets near the window. Her heavy panting reached him as did the rapid beat of her heart. The bear was attuned to her, intent on securing her and assuring her well-being.

Nothing—no one—lurked in the shadows which meant he could focus on Trista. He lowered to a crouch and clawed his way through the blanket enveloping her. His nails sliced the material into floating ribbons, revealing Trista with every cut and tug. It didn’t take long to find the baggy T-shirt that covered her upper-body, nor did he have trouble getting to her loose shorts.

Then he focused on her body, running his hands over her arms and legs, ensuring she wasn’t hurt. All the while, she panted and moaned, struggling against him, her hands clawing at her throat.

Her scent finally penetrated his focus, smacking him in the face with her emotions. Panic. Fear. Pain. Hyena and… what?

He pushed the question away and focused on her terror. A nightmare… or memories. He couldn’t imagine what caused her terror, but he needed her to calm before she hurt herself.

Redness surrounded her throat, her fingers clawing at her flesh, and he snatched her hands, gathering her wrists into one fist while he tugged her close with his free arm.

“Hush. Easy. Trista…” His bear raged at her fear and the scrapes now peppering her skin. “I’ve got you.”

The words were garbled, warped due to his beast’s muzzle, but she seemed to recognize him. She slowly quieted, the gasps and cries gradually lessening to low mewls and whimpers. He stared at the woman in his arms, the tears streaking her face and the redness of her eyes.

“I’ve got you…” This time he sounded more like his human self and he realized his bear had retreated. It still paced in his mind, grumbling and growling, but seemed to have accepted that his human half could better take care of her. “I’ve got you.”

I’ll always have you.

The thought ricocheted through his mind, pinging off his memories and thoughts of the future. The bear snatched the idea from its travels and held it close, growling when Keen attempted to mentally wrench it from the animal. It was then he realized one thing with pure clarity. He wanted to have her as his. Now. Forever. Longer if it were possible.

“Keen?” Her eyes focused on him, shifting from glazed to laser sharp. “What…?” She shook her head. “What happened? Why am I on the floor?”

He released her, convinced she wouldn’t hurt herself any longer, and used his free hand to stroke her face. He brushed aside lingering tears, capturing the droplets with his fingertips and making them disappear.

“You had a nightmare,” he murmured, watching her gaze for recognition.

It was swift in coming, her eyes widening as she sucked in a harsh breath. Her heart rate picked up once again, the rhythmic beating reaching his ears thanks to his inner-beast. Air whooshed in and out of her lungs and the scent of panic, terror, filled the air in a resurging wave.

“Shh… You’re fine. You’re okay, Trista.”

She brought a hand to her neck and he tensed, worried that he’d have to subdue her once more. Except, this time her touch was light, fingers fluttering over her skin. She danced across the line of her throat and paused by her ears before retracing her path. She sought something, but what?

With one final pass, she brought her hand before her gaze, flipping from one side to the other, staring at her pale skin. Finally, a soft sigh escaped her lips and she relaxed in his arms.

He reveled in the embrace, knowing it probably wouldn’t last long once she realized a bear held her close. His animal enjoyed it as well, begging him to breathe deep so they could memorize her sweet scent. Honeysuckle and sunshine. Sweetness paired with happiness. She could be his happiness if he could just convince her to put away her prickly, defensive exterior for a while.

It lasted exactly two seconds. She went from dazed and panicking to furious and fighting in two seconds. She shoved and pushed at his hands and he allowed her to pull away.

She scrambled backwards, finally colliding with the wall. “I’m—”

The click of the bedroom doorknob being turned cut her off and a jiggle of the metal immediately followed. Then there was a heaving crash of wood and plaster as the panel was crushed beneath the weight of his eldest brother. “What the hell?”

Keen pushed to his feet, his animal rushing forward for the second time in less than five minutes. What should have tired him, exhilarated him. The partial transformation sent a rush of energy through his body as the bear took over. He snarled at Ty, baring his teeth and allowing the animal to increase his size.

His clothing stretched taut over his muscles, straining the fabric, but he didn’t care. Ty had invaded Trista’s space while she was a trembling, crying wreck and he’d be damned if someone else frightened her.

Keen’s inner-bear gave him a mental high-five followed by a roar he interpreted as “fuck, yeah.”

Ty froze in the doorway, the frustration and anger in his brother’s expression quickly transforming to trepidation. “Keen?”

He growled in response. Ty was still in the room, still standing within Trista’s space, and he nearly lost his shit when she whimpered. “Get out.”