Chapter 6 - Mara
It’s a trick of the light, I tell myself, or maybe my nerves are just shot, but the alpha Rowan’s skin looks almost incandescent in this cold mountain daylight, and every time he moves, the room seems to flicker around him.
I watch him from the safety of a kitchen chair, knuckles white around a mug that’s long since gone cold, and try to focus on Willow instead.
She’s the only other woman here, the only one who seems built for warmth rather than violence, but my attention keeps sliding back to Rowan like he’s a black hole sucking the air from the room.
They’re all here, and they introduce themselves as the alliance of alphas: Cade, Brooks, Alder, Kaiden…
and Rowan, Rowan with his bizarrely intense stare and the way he seems to see straight through me.
Cade hovers behind me, always between me and the rest, and maybe I’m imagining it, but I swear I feel him watching my back like he’s on guard duty.
Maybe he’s just making sure I don’t run, but it almost feels like protection, which is the dumbest thing I’ve ever thought. I’m the hostage, after all.
Willow slides into the chair beside me, blue coat slipping from her shoulders, and gives me a smile that I don’t quite trust. She’s got a face you’d find in old oil paintings, all pretty soft lips, big eyes, a little too much emotion and kindness in her eyes.
Her hair is the color of burnt sunshine, and for all her delicate, breakable energy, I sense she’s the strongest person in the room. It makes me wary of her a little more.
“You must be Mara,” she says, voice low. “I’m Willow.” She doesn’t offer to shake, just watches my hands before tucking her own under the table. “Sorry about the way you came here. Cade has explained that things got a little…out of hand.”
“It’s fine,” I say, because I don’t know what else to say, and because there’s no version of this conversation where I get to sound tough when even I can sense my fear radiating off me. I know shifters pick up on everything.
Rowan sits on the other side of the table, leaning forward with his elbows on the surface, and his eyes, which should be brown, catch the overhead light and turn silver, making me do a double take.
“I hope you understand why we needed to talk to you,” he says, with the care of someone who knows a single wrong word can blow the whole thing up.
I shrug, but my tongue is glued to the roof of my mouth. I focus on Willow, who seems to sense the panic, and gives me a smile that might actually be real.
“I know you’ve been through a lot,” she says, “but we really do need to run some tests. Just blood, nothing else. We can explain, if you want.” Her palm is up now, like she’s offering me something.
“Blood,” I echo, and the word feels like a curse. I remember the last time the hunters asked for my blood, and gave me the vitamins, and a thought spills out before I can stop it. “Why does everyone want my blood?”
Cade’s voice rumbles from behind me, closer than I thought he was, “Because you don’t smell human.” The words drop, heavy, and I roll my eyes.
“Well, I am,” I snap. “I’m certainly not a shifter, and if I had magic, don’t you think I would have conjured up a better life?”
Willow chuckles, and the sound catches me off-guard, taking the wind out of the sass I was trying to throw at Cade.
She waves her hand almost in apology, “I’m sorry, it’s not funny, I know,” she says, and then leans forward slightly.
“And you’re right, I don’t think you’re hiding a wolf in there.
I don’t have one, either, but we’ve learned people aren’t always what they seem, so we run tests just to check.
I promise it won’t do anything bad to you. ”
I roll my eyes again, but she has me intrigued now; if she has no wolf, why is she with the shifters? “Fine, if it stops him thinking I’m not human. Do it.”
I watch as Willow produces a small medical kit from her bag and automatically rolls up the sleeve on the arm I’ve been using for the blood draws.
Willow reaches over cautiously and turns my arm over slowly, revealing the cluster of marks from last week's blood draw, and then looks at me.
“Why have you been giving blood so much?”
I shrug. “Universal donor, apparently. They needed extra, probably from fighting with shifters.”
That statement gets a grunt or two of amusement from the other alphas, who have so far lingered near the kitchen island, but I don’t look at them; I keep my eyes fixed firmly on Willow as she takes my blood.
Willow makes quick work of the needle, barely a pinch, and then she’s already sealing up the tube, labeling it with a date and my name, as if I’ll be around long enough for them to need to keep it straight.
She looks at me, and for a second, I almost forget that she’s one of them.
Her eyes are so soft and so full of something that looks a lot like pity that it makes me pause for a moment, and I don’t even realize that one of the other alphas is talking to me until he repeats the question.
“…I said, let’s get down to it. What’s your role with the hunters, and why did they give you up like that? Seems weird to me,” he says, sounding vaguely bored.
I turn and realize it’s Alder asking. I take a breath before answering; I’ve had plenty of time since last night to get my answers straight.
Don’t give too much away, because if I’m going to get back to the hunters and finish what I started, I can’t give it all up to these guys.
I also can’t have them thinking I’m a member of the Order, because they’ll kill me.
They need to think I’m just a broke girl tending the bar and of no importance—they did hand me over to a monster, after all, so they clearly don’t care about me.
I put as much vacant indifference into my expression as I can. “I told you, I just worked there.” A shred of honesty, or maybe just exhaustion, leaks through. “I needed a job, and the bar was hiring.”
Brooks, with the fresh buzz cut and stubble, leans against the counter. “And you didn’t notice you were working for a group of supernatural-hating extremists?”
I drag my eyes from my mug. “I pour drinks. I listen to old men bitch about taxes and how much they miss their ex-wives. I don’t ask about their hobbies.” I make it sound like a joke. Nobody laughs.
“Let’s make this simpler,” Alder tries again. “How long were you with them?”
I pretend to think for a moment. “About a year.” Technically true.
“And before?” Alder’s voice is gentle, but I know that tone; he’s looking for any inconsistency in my story, but he won’t find any. I’ve been doing this too long.
“Did a year at a bar in the valleys, bounced around before that. No family, no fixed address. Not everyone has a dynasty to run.” I look at Cade, as if daring him to contradict me.
Kaiden, who hasn’t spoken yet, finally pipes up. He’s softer, not as showy, but the way he keeps his arms folded tight to his chest tells me he’s the one who’ll remember the details I let slip. “The Order’s been recruiting hard. They must want even their bar staff to be all in?”
I shake my head. “I’m not exactly their target market. They didn’t care what I thought.” Which is a lie, and the way Willow’s eyes catch mine, I know she spots it.
Rowan leans in, resting his chin on folded hands. “Mara, I know you’re scared. But we’re not here to hurt you if you give us no cause. We just need to know what you heard, even if it’s just rumors. Anything about what the Order’s got planned?”
His voice is velvet and ice, and for a second, I almost want to tell him everything just to see what he’ll do with it.
I settle for, “They didn’t tell me much. I was a nobody to them.” Which is, in the hierarchy of lies, the best kind, because it’s shaded by truth. The other key ingredient is to give them a little something to chew on. “But I did overhear stuff, sometimes.”
“Like what?” Cade, from behind me.
I pretend to dig deep. “Talk of new weapons, something they were getting from Europe. They kept saying there was a big play coming. That’s when the city guys showed up.
” I look up. “I’m sure you already know most of this.
They don’t exactly keep it quiet when they’re drunk and shoot their mouths off everywhere they go. ”
Brooks snorts. “Did you ever get any names?”
I shake my head, but I’m lying, because I remember every name, every code word, every loose scrap of conversation I ever heard.
Suppose I get out of here and back to the compound.
I’ll have escaped and can feed them some information about the shifters; they’ll welcome me back.
I’ve got nowhere else to go, as far as they know; no wonder I’d go crawling back.
It’s a good plan—if I can get out of here, of course.
The questions continue like rapid fire, but I keep them going in circles until the frustration in the room begins to feel palpable.
Good. Best-case scenario, they decide I’m a useless human with no credible intel and let me walk out of here.
I don’t allow my mind to drift to the worst-case scenario because I’ve seen what shifters are capable of.
Eventually, the questions start to slow, the energy in the room shifting from interrogation to something more bored than productive. I begin to settle a little in my chair as Alder and Kaiden head outside to make some calls.
I clear my throat and push my chair back. “So, if I can’t be of any help…Am I free to go?”
The silence that follows is almost comical.
Rowan smiles, but it’s not friendly. “Not quite yet,” he says.
“We’ll need to wait on the test results, and your answers weren’t as, ah, complete as you probably meant them to be.
You’re not leaving until we know what’s in your blood and what triggered the hunters to”—he gestures, vague and dismissive—“gift you to Cade.”
“Great,” I say, and it tastes like battery acid. “So this is just a hostage situation.”
Cade leans in from the wall, arms crossed over his chest, and for a second, I think he’s going to take my sarcasm as a challenge and start the whole cross-examination over again.
Instead, he just shakes his head, once, the movement oddly final.
“You’ll stay here until Willow gets the results back.
And you won’t be mixing with my pack. My wolf…
he doesn’t like your scent, and I’m inclined to listen to him. ”
I’m about to say something cutting, like pointing out the last thing I want to do is mix with his pack, but when I look at him, my body betrays me: my scalp prickles, my heartbeat tripping into a weird rhythm.
I know they can hear it, and I hope they just think I’m scared rather than… whatever this is.
Willow stands and gives me another soft look that, for a moment, makes me want to confess everything again. What is it with these people? She nudges Cade as she walks by. “She should eat more. It’s a rough transition between…places.” She winks and is gone, along with the others.
I’m not left alone, though. Cade walks back in and types something into the keypad I’d already clocked by the door before closing it. For a moment, he just stands there, and I realize that for the first time since last night, I’m not afraid of him, not really. I’m not even angry. I’m just tired.
Of all of it.
I sigh and look up at him, and there’s a weird, hollow ache inside me.
I try to breathe through it; it’s not fear, and not quite pain, either.
It’s worse than that. Like a need, sudden and deep, crawling out from beneath my skin and anchoring itself in my stomach.
My cheeks burn, and I’m suddenly so warm I think I might faint.
Sweat beads on the back of my neck. I reach for the glass of water someone put on the table earlier, but my fingers are clumsy, and I knock it sideways, spilling water all over the table.
Cade is there before I can even react with a towel.
He doesn’t look at me, but I think he feels it, too, because the air between us has gone electric, every molecule vibrating with the same weird, feverish energy.
He mops up the water, his knuckles brushing mine, and I flinch away, nearly knocking the chair over.
I stagger back, chest heaving, and blurt out, “I need to be alone.” The words are too loud, shattering the weird silence in the kitchen.
I don’t wait for a reply; I just run for the guest room and slam the door behind me.
I brace myself against it, palms flat, head tipped back.
The rushing in my ears is so intense that I can’t hear anything else.
It begins to fade after a few moments, but the ache in my core remains.
What the hell was that?