Page 41 of The Enemy to the Living (The Wild Hunt #2)

After I rap on the door, there’s a charged silence. I know he’s in there. He knows that I know he’s in there.

Just as I’m about to give up and go back downstairs—no one is yelling yet, but Maurice’s low voice is getting faster with his irritation—the door swings open. Grant looks up at me with big red eyes and I wrap my arms around him before I can even remember why that might be a bad idea.

He lets out a little squeak of surprise and then, a second later, hugs me back.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter. “I shouldn’t have had it out with Vlad like that in front of everyone. This was no way for you to find out.”

Grant scoffs and shoves me back, but without any of his vampiric strength. “If you hadn’t said anything, I’d never know, would I? Come in.”

He waves me into the room and, once I’m inside, over to a chair.

I’ve stayed at the base from time to time, though less often since I caved and bought a flat of my own, and looking at it, Grant’s is easily the largest bedroom in the house.

It’s lushly decorated, too, and I feel bad that I didn’t take my shoes off when I originally got here because I don’t want to track dirt into this carpet.

“Don’t worry about it,” Grant says dully when he realises where I’m looking. He drops onto his bed and then collapses to one side, hugging a pillow against his front. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Grant…”

“I’m not going to be able to train, am I?” His eyes flare wide. “Or see Quinn shift, either. Vlad gives me everything, and I know I should be grateful, but—”

“Vlad’s been an absolute—” I interrupt, then cut myself off. Despite it all, I know Vlad has his own reasons for everything he’s been doing. He hasn’t decided to isolate Grant or keep him based on a whim.

“It doesn’t matter,” Grant says again. He squeezes his eyes shut. “He’s still my sire. I have to do what he says.”

“No, you don’t,” I scoff, and Grant’s eyes pop open. “Do you know how many vampires kill their own sires?”

“I don’t want to kill him.”

“Not the point, pup. The point is that you don’t have to listen to him all the time. You’ve got the rest of us now. We should have been keeping a better eye on you both before, and I’m sorry we weren’t, but we’re not about to abandon you.”

“You and Maurice have your mates to spend time with. Jeremiah and Paxton can’t argue with him.”

I snort, then raise an eyebrow. “Do you want to be the one to tell Jeremiah that?” Maurice might be pissed off, but I’m sure Jeremiah is giving him a run for his money downstairs—I didn’t miss that look on his face when Maurice came and told us he and Njáll had bonded.

He wants that, and finding out that Vlad has withheld information from him about the whole thing?

Oh, he’s not going to be happy.

Not to mention that he and Paxton fell head-over-heels for the little wolves they were protecting—they’re soft touches, and Grant should know that.

“Still. No one can be here all the time.”

“Are you worried about being alone with Vlad?”

Grant pulls a face. “No.”

“I’m still going to train you,” I say, “and Quinn has to check with his friends, but even if you can’t go with them all when they run, I know he wants to shift for you. And I’ll get Maurice to talk to Njáll, too. There must be other fledglings within the clan who you can spend time with.”

“You’re sure? Are you actually going to do it?”

“Yes,” I say and don’t take my eyes from Grant’s face. “I promise. Okay?”

He sniffs. He’s sitting up now, though still holding on to the pillow. “Okay.”

“Good. You might be Vlad’s turn, but at least as far as Quinn’s concerned, you’re part of my pack.”

“Pack?”

“You already knew what I used to be, didn’t you?”

Grant bites his lower lip, then nods. “Yeah,” he says in a small voice.

“How?”

He looks at me—looks about two inches above the top of my head, actually—and then away again. “Can see it,” he mutters.

“What?”

“I can… I don’t know. Vlad told me to keep it to myself. But I can kind of see magic. Sometimes.”

“So you could see I was a wolf?”

“Yeah.” Grant frowns and wrinkles his nose. “You look different to the others, though. When we went to Quinn’s challenge, it was really obvious. Made sense then.”

“Because of all the other wolves?”

“Yeah.”

I nod, taking that in. Maurice might have worked out what I am by now, but his magic had no hand in it. Even most fae aren’t aware, though high fae seem to be an exception.

I understand Vlad’s hesitation when it comes to Grant’s powers, but keeping him in the dark won’t help him to develop them, and if the Huntsman is right about this all not being over…

“We’ll all help you,” I say.

“Why? Because you think I’m pack?”

“Because you’re part of the Hunt, too. We need to be better at working together.”

Maybe Rook and Saide wouldn’t have left if we were all closer. Maybe Moreau would keep us updated on where he is and what he’s doing.

The past doesn’t matter. We can fix this now.

“Okay,” Grant says. I know he still doesn’t believe me, but that’s okay. I’m a wolf. We keep our promises, but we’re creatures of action first and foremost. “What about Quinn’s pack?”

“What about them?”

“Are you part of his pack, too?”

“No, I can’t join it.”

“Why not?”

“I serve the Hunt.” An easy answer. Always the easiest answer. “The mating bond might be something the Huntsman accepts, but he would not like me taking a new alpha.”

“Oh. So you’ll be in two separate packs, then?”

I frown, thinking. There have always been creatures that existed between true pack boundaries—even before Deacon asked Kieran to create his pack and officially take care of that problem in London.

Humans who know about wolves or marry in, covens that support one pack or another.

My allegiance must be with the Hunt and this pseudo pack I’m creating, but if I want to be close to Quinn…

“I need to go,” I say, then immediately shake my head, but Grant is smiling.

“Go,” he says. “Trust me, I’m still gonna be right here when you get back.”

“Tomorrow,” I reply. “If I don’t get a job, we’ll start your training tomorrow.”

Grant rolls his eyes. “Next week. Spend time with your mate. I’m happy for you, Asher.”

I get to my feet and reach over, messing his hair up like I’ve seen Maurice do before. I’ll talk to him before I go, though I have the strangest feeling that Jeremiah and Paxton will be staying at the base for the next little while.

“Thanks,” I say. “I’ll see you soon.”

I walk straight through the wards when I arrive at Kieran’s pack house, then stop mid-step.

I know Sam must have modified them to let me through the other night, but now?

Either he’s allowing me through or my connection to Quinn is; either way, I can’t help the half-smile that curves my lips as I make my way up the path.

Kieran opens his flat door after the first knock. Sam, Lucien, and Adam are sitting around inside, and they all watch in silence as I walk inside.

For a moment, I’m not sure what to do. I know why I’ve come here, but I haven’t formally introduced myself to Kieran and now I want to mate with a member of his pack and—

“Fuck, sit down, would you?” Sam grouches. He’s lying on the sofa, his head in Adam’s lap, and doesn’t look inclined to move on my account. “You look like you’re about to pass out or something.”

“Sorry,” I mutter and take the free armchair when Kieran waves a hand at it. Lucien gets out of the other, though Kieran glares at him—for moving, I think—before taking the now-free seat.

“What can I do for you, Asher?” Kieran asks. There’s a gleam of amusement in his eyes. “I take it you’re not here on official Hunt business.”

“No.” I clear my throat and then bare it, noticing the way Sam immediately sits up out of the corner of my eye. “Forgive me, alpha. I should have come to you before now.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“I should have spoken to you before Quinn and I—” I frown. We’ve not performed the rites, at least, and it used to be that the alpha gave their permission—which they always would in the face of a true bond—but I don’t know how things work anymore.

“It’s not up to me,” Kieran says, leaning forward. His eyes are entirely serious now, expression almost grave. “It’s up to you and Quinn. No one else.”

He frowns a little on the final three words. No one else. The Huntsman, he means, but even he has decided against interfering in this.

“It is not in the nature of the fae to deny a true mate bond,” I say, and Kieran nods, mollified. “I cannot join your pack.”

I brace myself for protest, for insistence that I should do it anyway, but Kieran is simply silent for a few seconds. Sam watches us both curiously.

“Okay,” Kieran says.

“W-What do you mean, okay?”

“Okay.” Kieran shrugs this time, settling further into the chair. Lucien’s hand drops to the back of his neck, a gentle, grounding touch. “As long as you’re respectful when you’re here and don’t do anything to harm the pack, I don’t care if you’ve fully joined us or not.”

I scowl. “You should…” What? Run us out?

The words die before they can fully form.

“It doesn’t matter. I can’t join the pack, but Quinn is my mate, and that means I will still look out for each and every one of you.

Above all else, I must serve the Wild Hunt and our Huntsman, but wherever I can, I will keep you and yours safe and I will always, always protect Quinn. ”

Kieran smiles. He tips his head back to look up at his mate. “I suppose we can’t ask for more than that, can we?”

“No, my love, I think not.”

“I’ll go get him,” Sam says and brushes a kiss against Adam’s cheek before he hops off the sofa and out the door. I watch him go.

“Where is he…?”

“To fetch your mate,” Adam says. The smile he gives me is lazy and tempered with caution. He doesn’t quite trust me yet, which is fair. “You did come here to see him too, didn’t you?”

“I—”

The door swings open again, and Quinn is standing there. Drew is at his back and I’m glad to see them together again. They were clearly such close friends, and I would hate for someone such as Tamesis to truly come between them.

“What’s going on?” Quinn asks. He’s not panicked, not really, but I get to my feet all the same.

“Your mate came to ally himself with our pack,” Kieran says and my head shoots around, gaze locking with his.

“I did?”

Kieran raises an eyebrow. “Did you not?”

“I-I did.”

Quinn smiles. “Really?”

“Yes. I can’t join your pack, but I’ll always keep you and the people you care about safe.”

He trembles all over like he’s going to leap into my arms but catches himself at the last second. Drew and Sam slip around him, into the flat, and Quinn reaches out instead, tangling his fingers with mine.

“Whenever you want to perform the rites, let me know,” Kieran says, startling me again. “Deacon can help you choose a place, or if you want to go out of the city, he knows some packs across the country, too. Though I bet you have some ideas in mind, don’t you?”

Just one. I nod. I don’t know if it’s something Quinn will like, and it’s far too early to speak of it yet. But I have been back to the place where I almost died hundreds of times, a place that is still resplendent with trees, and remote, and—

“We’re gonna go,” Quinn says. Of course. He can feel my emotions now, and when I push at my blessing, I get the outline of his, too. Desire. Affection. Disbelief. Relief.

Kieran snorts, then huffs when Lucien says something under his breath. “Fine. Bring Asher for dinner sometime, would you? He needs to meet everyone in the pack properly.”

I stop before Quinn can fully tug me out the door, baring my throat again. Drew gasps and Quinn’s hand tightens in mine. “Thank you, alpha.”

“No problem at all,” Kieran says, “since I figure you know better than to fuck this up.”

“I do.”

He nods and waves us off, and Quinn drags me all the way down the hall and into his flat, where he closes the door by shoving me up against it. I groan at the first touch of his mouth, shivering under his desperate, possessive touch.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” he murmurs against my lips, then kisses me again.