Page 3 of Queen of Rebels (Shifters of Sherwood #3)

The floorboards creak under my shoulder, and the unfamiliar sound throws me awake. It’s not the easy give of the hardwood floors at Rob’s, but the stubborn groan of ancient pine. I can hear the change before I can even think it, like I’m diagnosing an engine.

Different house, different sounds.

Different everything.

The warmth, at least, is still here. LJ's massive form curves around me like a living wall, his breath stirring my hair in steady rhythms. Even in human form, he radiates heat like a furnace. Tuck's pressed close on my other side, glasses folded neatly by his head. Even now, he's positioned to watch the door - old habits from too many close calls.

Will's managed to make sleeping on bare wood look somehow refined, silver hair catching the grey pre-dawn light. But there's tension in his jaw that sleep can't quite smooth away. The kind that comes from grinding your teeth all night, from bad dreams.

And somewhere, in a cold, ugly cell, Rob is...

The thought breaks off, too sharp to hold.

LJ stirs behind me, pushes up to sit. “Princess,” he says gruffly. “You’re awake.”

“Barely,” I answer, even though my heart is hammering like I’ve had three cups of coffee. I sit up, too, folding the old blanket around me, which is enough to rouse Tuck, blinking away sleep.

“I wasn’t asleep,” he says, unconvincingly. “I was just...resting my eyes.”

“Relax,” I say, smiling a little. “It’s fine. We’re all here.”

Except we’re not , I think, the thought like an arrow to the heart.

“And so lucky to be here, too.” This from Will, rolling to an elbow and pushing his hair out of his eyes. In the lemon-colored morning light that floods the room, his disdain is more visible, etched in the furrow between his eyebrows.

“How’d you sleep, Maren?” Tuck asks good-naturedly, pushing his glasses back on.

“Oh...fine, I guess?” I shrug. “I mean, given the circumstances.”

Will snorts, rolling and stretching his neck, but says nothing. LJ throws him a glare.

“You were whimpering,” he says to me. “In your sleep.”

“I was?” Heat floods my cheeks. LJ’s mouth turns up at the corner.

“I restrained myself,” he says. “But yes.”

My face goes even hotter. In spite of everything, my mind flashes back to my first night back with them, with LJ, in his apartment, his firm hands on my body and pulling at my hair.

I swallow, hard.

“We should find some water,” Tuck says, getting to his feet and stretching an arm overhead. “Don’t want to risk dehydration. If we can find a pot, we can probably boil it on the stove to make sure it’s clean.”

Another snort from Will. This time, Tuck turns and cocks his head. “What?”

“Nothing,” Will says, swiveling around to sit cross-legged, shaking his head. Tuck throws me a puzzled look, and I lift a shoulder.

Search me. Maybe he’s cranky after a bad night’s sleep. It’s not exactly comfortable in here, I’ll give him that.

“I’ll go,” LJ says. “Find me something to fill.”

Tuck obliges, and strides over to the sagging shelves to grab a few bottles, which he hands to LJ.

“If you see anything—”

“I’m not stupid, kid.” LJ flings the door open and leaves.

I blow out a long breath, staring at my hands. What the fuck are we going to do? It’s the only thought I can manage, and it’s not a very productive one. I run my fingers through my hair, fruitlessly combing out tangles. I must look like a mess: escaped in my pajamas, torn up by branches, smudged with dirt, and now with bedhead and morning breath to boot.

“ Ah! ” Will scrambles up from his place on the floor, staring at a spot on the floorboards. “Spider.”

Tuck looks up from examining the stove and laughs softly. “Arachnophobic?”

Will stares at Tuck like he’s stupid—which Tuck definitely isn’t. “No,” he says sharply. “Just fucking disgusted.”

Tuck, to his credit, doesn’t take the bait. “It is the forest,” he says. “Gonna be bugs. It’s their home too.”

“Home?” Will says, laughing humorlessly. “This is not our home. My home.” He casts a sidelong glance at me. “You can’t have been comfortable sleeping there all night.”

I look down at the makeshift bed of crates and blankets. “It wasn’t so bad,” I say. “I’ve slept on worse.” There was the occasional night I’d crash on the floor of the garage if Uncle John locked me out...or I just didn’t want to go home. Old wood and ratty blankets beats concrete with a coveralls pillow anyday.

A pained look flickers over Will’s face, quickly erased by a grim frown. He mumbles something I don’t quite catch.

“I think this’ll work,” Tuck says, straightening. “Assuming we can get some fuel in here, it should hold temperature just fine. No problem to get some water going on here.”

“Oh, is that what you’re giving her for breakfast this morning?” Will says. “Freshly boiled creek sludge?”

His attitude digs at me, even though he’s directing at Tuck.

“Hey, hey, hey,” I say calmly. “Relax. I miss coffee too.”

Will glowers. Tuck blushes.

“I’m sorry I can’t do better,” he says. “But if we can get out and forage, or hunt—”

The door bangs open again and LJ returns, toting three sloshing bottles.

“Stream’s not too far away,” he reports, holding one up to the light. “Looks pretty clean.”

“You can’t see dysentery,” Tuck says, and takes the bottle from LJ. “I’ll get this one going.”

LJ, though, is staring at Will. “Who pissed in his cornflakes?”

Will gives a short ha. “If only. That would mean we’d at least have cornflakes.” Again, he looks at me. “You’re hungry.”

“I’m...” I want to protest, but my stomach chooses that moment to rumble. I flush a little at the sound.

“Not her fault,” LJ says, an edge of warning to his words.

“No,” Will agrees. “It’s not. It’s ours—or, I should say, the rest of yours. Look at this fucking...” His voice raises, in tension and volume, and he turns on LJ, ticking off fingers. “She’s sleeping on rat-infested century-old horse blankets. Nothing to eat. Nowhere to shower. Being hunted like an animal...”

The sound of flesh meeting flesh cracks through the darkness. Will staggers, catching himself against the wall. LJ towers over him, massive fist still clenched, chest heaving.

"LJ!" I start forward, but Tuck's hand on my arm holds me back.

“Get it together,” LJ grits out, rubbing his knuckles. “And quit whining. You think you’re too good for this place? Tough.”

Will touches his jaw, something like dragon-fire flickering in his eyes. For a moment, I think he'll shift—think we'll witness a battle between dragon and bear right here in this shack.

But then, as if sensing my attention, his eyes flutter over to me. The dragon's gold rings his pupils for a moment before fading to familiar steel-blue. His gaze sweeps our surroundings, taking in the rough floor, the cobwebbed corners, the utter lack of anything resembling comfort. And something like shame flickers across his features.

“I’m not,” Will says roughly. “But she is.”

Guilt plunges down my throat, pools in my stomach. Tuck and LJ both look at me, curious, and I feel like shrinking under all their gazes.

“I’m not,” I say quickly. “I mean, this isn’t my top choice of lifestyle, but—”

“See?” Will says, rocking his head back against the wall.

“Hey!” I pivot on him. “Will, knock it off. You know I’m not some spoiled brat. I spent most of my life working twelve-hour days cutting my knuckles on engine parts and using work rags for hair ties, remember?”

“Oh, I remember,” Will says darkly.

I sweep my arms around the shack. “So, what, you think I can’t handle something like this?”

“I think you left something like this,” he says, the words raw and ragged. “And I don’t think you want to go back.”

I stop in my tracks, mouth open. Unsure what to say. “I don’t understand.”

“Don’t you?” He pushes up from the wall, strides closer to me, so we’re less than an arm’s length apart. "All of this—" His gesture encompasses the rotting timbers, the dusty bottles, our own bedraggled forms. "This isn't the life you deserve. The life we promised you." His laugh is bitter. "No more cushy beds. No more fancy food. No more luxury living or designer clothes. No more comfort. No more safety . No more..." He swallows hard, and when he speaks again, the words are tight and sharp. “Everything we gave you. Everything that made us worth staying for. It's gone."

The truth hits me like physical pain. Will Scarlet, with his Boston breeding and refined tastes, thinks I’ll leave him. Leave all of them.

And it’s killing him.

I step towards him, close the distance between us, aware of LJ and Tuck's eyes tracking my movement. My fingers find Will's jaw, turning his face to mine. "You think I stayed for the thread count?"

“Not entirely.” Will’s voice wavers. "The security. The life we gave you—“

"The life we shared ," I correct him. My thumb traces the spot where LJ's fist connected, feeling the heat of forming bruise. "The weird little... family we built. You really think that's less important to me than...than fucking...” I cast around for something. “... stuff ?”

Will casts his eyes at the floor, but presses into my hand. Then he takes my wrist, holds me to his face.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, voice rough. “But you deserve better than this. Than sleeping on bare floors in abandoned hovels, than running and hiding like—"

"Stop." The word comes out sharper than I intend, making Tuck jump a little. I gentle my voice. “C’mon, Scarlet, look at me."

He does, and the raw vulnerability in his expression makes my chest ache.

“Let me be clear, okay? I never cared about the mansion. Or the fancy clothes, or the cars, or any of it." My fingers tighten on his. "I care about you. All of you. This floor?" I tap it with my toes. "It's not bare. It's holding the people I love most in the world. Well...” My voice catches. “Most of them.”

The dragon gold flares in his eyes again, but this time it's accompanied by something else. Something that looks suspiciously like hope.

LJ's growl has softened to something almost gentle.

"Idiot,” he mutters.

Almost.

Will licks his lips, pulls my hand to his chest, and then pulls me in fully for an embrace. I stand there, held by him, head nestled just under his collarbone, for a long, long moment, and when I pull back, I kiss him.

The move is automatic, an instinct, just what I need to do at that exact moment in time, but it sparks something in Will. As soon as my lips graze his, he clutches the small of my back, pushes me into him, his mouth hard on mine and his skin flaring with warmth. It surprises me, but warms me, softens me, and I lean into him, the surroundings going blurred and fuzzy around us as his tongue darts against mine, his free hand cups my ass.

“Whoa,” I hear Tuck mumble, and Will rips away from me, eyes blazing.

“You can stare, or you can join,” he says. “But spare me the color commentary.”

I rub my mouth, sore and swollen and wet, and feel my pulse kick up into my neck and rush down between my legs at the same time. I glance at Tuck, whose face goes blank with surprise, then rosy with desire.

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” LJ says. He reaches for me, eyes dark and half-lidded, but Will’s arm tightens around my waist again.

“Not yet,” he breathes. “Let me taste her again.”

He clasps my jaw in one hand and swivels my face back to his, crushing me in a second kiss that’s harder, hotter than the first, like his dragon’s flame is lurking somewhere inside it. I grasp at him, ripping the shirt from his body and over his shoulders, and someone does the same to me—LJ, I realize, shucking me bare from the waist up.

“Beautiful,” he growls, and bends to capture a nipple in his mouth.

“Ah!” I gasp as the rough rasp of his beard meets my skin, the bristle sending waves of slick heat down my thighs. This is crazy, I think, somewhere in my distant, rational brain.

And yet it’s not. All the adrenaline, the nerves, the sheer goddamn luck of getting away, is welled up inside me. Inside all of us.

And now it needs out.

As LJ works his tongue over my hardening flesh, he hip-checks Will out of the way and pulls me to his massive form, one thick-fingered hand sliding into the front of my pajamas.

“Good,” he groans, stroking me. “Oh, she’s wet.”

“I fucking bet she is.” Will’s stumbled back to sit on a crate, panting. I watch him stare as as LJ strokes me deeper and deeper, and a strangled cry escapes my mouth as Will frees his cock from his pants and glides a hand slowly up and down, up and down, eyes half-lidded in pleasure.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “God, Maren, you’re—”

“She’s ours.” LJ withdraws his hand and drags a finger across my lips. “Perfectly ours.”

He glances at Tuck. “Kiss him.”

Need pulses through me, and I nod, almost tripping on my way to wrap my hands around Tuck’s neck and bring his mouth softly to mine, letting his lips linger on the taste and feeling a deep ache inside me when he shudders.

I kiss him harder, deeper, and pull back, taking in his dazed expression.

“Tell her what you want, pup,” LJ orders.

“I...” Tuck stammers. My eyes drift to the straining fabric of his pants, and the knowledge of what lies beneath, plus his sweet hesitation, springs me into motion.

“I know.”

SPICE TK

—

"Though the stuff was admittedly quite nice," Tuck adds, and the tension breaks like a fever.

Dead leaves crunch under my feet despite my careful steps. The morning air carries a bite that makes me wish I'd borrowed one of the guys' jackets, but we left everything behind. Everything except what we're wearing.

The stream's sound guides me through unfamiliar trees. Simple mission: find water. Get back before they worry. My hands feel empty without a bottle to fill.

A twig snaps.

I stop breathing. Time slows, marked only by the stream's steady murmur and the hollow thud of my pulse against my ribs.

"Maren."

Zayn stands by the water's edge, his deputy's badge catching the filtered sunlight.