Page 93 of Blade's Battle
“The offer to join them scared me, so I ran. I didn’t think I deserved another pack after failing my own.”
“You didn’t fail them,” she said, suddenly remembering Damien’s comment before they’d left. He’d stressed that Blade hadn’t failed anyone. Was this what worried Blade? That he’d fail his new pack? Fail her? “You can’t blame yourself for not being there when they were attacked.”
“I never told you the full story. I had scouted the hunting lodge that was built about ten miles from our territory. It had gone up rather fast. A basic two-story lodge with eight bedrooms, kitchen, fireplace. Nothing elaborate. Only a single dirt road had been cleared to get there from a state route.
“As soon as construction was done, a bunch of hunters moved in. I watched them to get a feel for who they were and what they were doing out there, to make sure it wasn’t anything more than hunting game nearby. I did what I do best. I infiltrated, got in really close, close enough to listen to their conversations. I reported back to my alpha that they weren’t a threat. A bunch of humans who planned to hunt on weekends, vacations, and so on. There were several bankers, an accountant, one doctor, and a professional gambler who was very good at cheating at their nightly poker games, by the way. I learned a lot from him.”
“Good to know. Never playing strip poker with you.”
He smiled. “I’m gonna stop sharing my secrets if you use them against me.”
“I’ll make it up to you.” She ran her hand inside his shirt, enjoying the feel of his muscles and the heat against her numb fingers. “Finish your story.”
“Anyway, the hunters went hunting here and there, in between drinking. A rowdy bunch, lousy shots. They seemed harmless enough.”
“But they weren’t, were they?”
“Oh, they were. The only thing we had to fear from them were stray bullets. It was the next group after them that proved deadly. What I’d failed to realize is that the first group of hunters had only rented the lodge. They didn’t own it. The next group that came along, when I was off on another assignment, were hunters, professional hunters hired by the WSSO.
“I returned home to a graveyard. Everyone was dead. Every fucking shifter in my pack, down to the babies, dead, their bodies riddled with bullets.
“I shifted, ran, and howled to every cabin and guard post in the territory, searching for anyone who was still alive. I chased off countless animals already picking at the dead, tearing them apart. My entire pack. . . They were all dead, and I couldn’t even give them a proper burial, any of them. It was. . .”
Blade swallowed, then fell silent for several long, heartbeats. “I dragged the ones who were in the main compound into a pile, then put gasoline on everything, including the cabins where there were more dead. After I set the fire, I ran for hours. I don’t even know how long I ran. My next memory was in South Dakota, two states away. I think I lost a month in there. I’m still not sure. It took me a while to come out of shock.
“Is that when you got the tattoo?” she asked as she traced the wolf on his arm. She peered at it closer. “And why does it look like there are little hearts in his fur? Like what I used to draw on my homework when I was ten?”
“Hearts? You see hearts?” he said, not quite pulling off the innocent look.
“I didn’t even know a shifter could get a tattoo. I mean, I thought your wolf would heal the area, like a wound.”
“Oh, we can scar. You’ve seen Hayden’s chest and arm, right?”
“Yes, but–”
“If the wolf is too taxed to heal the shifter, scars can form. Or in my case, if alcohol is involved, you end up with a tattoo.”
“Seriously? You went on a bender and ended up with a tattoo?”
“More like Frank challenged me to a drinking game, and I lost.”
“Lost, meaning what?”
“He got to pick out the tattoo.”
She tilted her head to look at the image upside down. “Those are little hearts I see in there!”
“Seven little hearts, two smiley faces, and I can’t even say the last item.”
“What is it?” She loved that easy-going look on his face. He was so relaxed, more than he had been in a while, and that was because he was recalling some happy memory with Frank and his friends in his current pack.
“How about I tell you my given name instead?”
“Nope. I’ll figure that out in time. I want to know what’s under that wolf.”
“A cat. A friggin’cat.”
“That’s so cute!”
