Stryker (Boys of Wynter Book 1)

  My insides felt as if I'd been out in the cold all night. I was frozen. My heart was a solid block of ice, never to be thawed again. Worst of all, I couldn't show it. I needed to wear that big lying mask of indifference until Stryker and Rogue disappeared into the trees for good. I had no right getting emotionally and physically attached to a man like Styrker. I had no right getting attached to any man at all. My mother warned me it would only bring sorrow and pain, and she'd been right. Stryker was no archangel, the opposite in fact, but it still didn't ease the level of heartbreak I was feeling.

  Stryker would leave here as he came, wearing nothing but a pair of worn, stained buckskins. I carried his gun belt out of the bedroom and handed it to him.

  He surveyed the leather stitching that was now holding together two sliced ends of the belt. "Looks like I wasn't the only one benefiting from your handiwork."

  "Yes, but pushing a needle through leather took a bit more grit and finger power than your flesh. I worked on it during those long hours of your fever. I couldn't do anything else for you, so I had to keep myself occupied or go mad."

  He strapped the belt over his shoulder and buckled it at the opposite hip. With his color and strength returned and a gun strapped across his bare, tattooed chest, he looked every bit the dangerous rebel the Boys of Wynter were known to be. And the sight of him, nearly filling my tiny cabin with his shoulder span and dripping with masculine power, caused a surge of heat in my pussy . . . again. I would never forget the way his fingers felt when he strummed me to that shattering eruption of ecstasy.

  But it wasn't just the physical feelings he'd stirred in me. Stryker had touched me emotionally as well. I tried to tell myself that it was just like the happiness I derived from saving an animal from death. I'd saved Stryker and that gave me a certain sense of accomplishment and contentment just like when I sent a grizzly bear off with a healing arrow wound or an eagle back into the sky with a mended wing. I tried to tell myself that was all it was, but I'd been a fool. I was feeling something much more akin to agony than to accomplishment. Stryker would soon ride off, and I would be left behind alone in my cramped little cabin in the middle of an ice covered, deserted mountain.

  "I saved you a few biscuits for the trip," I said airily. I was back in defense mode, avoiding eye contact and hiding behind an indifferent shell.

  "I'll go to the shed and get Rogue," Stryker said quietly.

  I listened for his large boots to finish clomping down the steps of the porch before allowing my forced confident posture to crumple. I moved slowly as if I was trudging through puddles of sticky molasses as I gathered the biscuits in a napkin.

  My gaze brushed past the window, and I caught a glimpse of Stryker walking out of the shed, his horse in tow. It seemed he was moving through the same sticky puddles. Gunner padded out behind them looking a little low in the ear himself. The fox had quickly come to like Stryker, or maybe the poor little guy was just bored of having only me as a companion.

  "Stop this, Willow, " I said to myself as I watched the three outside, leaving three very different sized footprints in the newly fallen powder. "Stryker was injured and you helped him recover. It was never meant to be anything else." I would certainly think twice next time I found another incredibly handsome man in the snow, I thought and then laughed knowing full well the odds of ever finding, or for that matter, even casually meeting a man like Stryker again were about as likely as a piece of faraway star falling to earth and landing directly on my cabin porch.

  I took a steadying breath and walked outside. A brief snowstorm had already blown through leaving behind a periwinkle blue sky. There were a good three hours of daylight left. Stryker stopped and lifted each of Rogue's feet to check for rocks. I plodded down the steps and reached them, but stopped a few feet short. Things happened when we got too close, things that once started couldn't be stopped. I considered the possibility that I would have the same physical reaction to any man. I hadn't, after all, known many, aside from Percy, the mountain man who lived on the next hill with his rancid smelling fur coat and boots. But something told me a golden haired rock star with powder blue eyes and a voice that could melt granite could walk up to my cabin door, lost and looking for shelter, and I would still not have the reaction I had to Stryker. It was profound and overwhelming and seemingly unquenchable.

  Stryker finished checking his horse's hooves and circled around the massive stallion to face me. The unearthly green of his eyes was made more so by the hurricane of emotion in his face. I took some comfort in knowing that it was difficult for him to leave me. Although I was certain that once he reached home and his friends, of whom many were no doubt women, he would forget all about the lonely, half-breed up on the mountain.

  "Willow." He always said my name in a way that made it sound like some exotic love poem, and I would miss hearing the sound of it. I would miss the sound of his deep, smooth voice.

  It seemed the tears I'd been wishing away were not giving up the fight. The first one broke free, and before I could let another fall, I stepped into his arms. He took hold of my face and lifted my mouth to his. It wasn't a passionate kiss so much as a kiss that assured both of us that this had been an extraordinary meeting of two creatures bound to duty by their birth, two people who had no business being friends but fate had brought us together anyhow. Damn that thing called fate. Why did it never finish with a clean, happy ending?

  Stryker lifted his mouth from mine and gazed down at me as if he was trying to take a permanent picture with his eyes. I had already etched every inch of him in my mind, a long, heartbreaking photo album. And I was certain the pictures would never fade.

  Gunner barked sharply, breaking our gazes apart. I looked in the direction Gunner was facing. A bobcat limped out of the trees, dripping a trail of blood and holding one paw in the air.

  "I guess I'll let you get back to your patients. I've been greedily taking up all your time." I nodded and handed him the napkin of biscuits.

  "Take care, love." He turned back to his horse, reached up and grabbed a hunk of black mane and hauled himself up on Rogue's back.

  He looked back only for a second, his pale green eyes stroking me with a second good-bye kiss, before kicking the horse forward. Snow puffed up behind Rogue's massive black hooves as they disappeared over the hill.

  I raced over to the bobcat. The tufts on its pointed ears were dripping with icicles and the poor thing shivered from the cold. I knelt down next to it and gently lifted its paw. A sharp thorn was lodged between the pads. I pulled it free and packed the paw with ice to stop the bleeding. Seconds later, the thankful bobcat ran off with only a slight limp.

  I straightened and glanced back at the hillside, stupidly thinking that something would cause Stryker to return. But he was gone and a piece of my heart had gone with him.

  I hiked through the powder and ice back to the cabin. Gunner ran on ahead of me but then stopped short of the steps and sat down with a frightened whine. His tail moved back and forth as he stared up at the porch. The shadows of the eaves did not allow a clear view, but I saw a flicker of movement. Someone was there.

  I hurried my pace and stopped next to Gunner. "Sabre," I said as I caught my breath. My eyes opened wide, and I looked back toward the hill before turning to face her.

  "Yes, I saw him," Sabre said curtly as she stepped forward and lowered the white hood from her cascading silver curls. "He would have been a hard one to miss. Boys of Wynter don't just slink in and out of places. They ride in like chaos and trouble. They are hoodlums, Willow. They have no business up here on this mountain. It seems I should have listened to my instinct and asked you what the venom antidote was for before I sent it along."

  "It saved his life. And hoodlums?" I asked sharply. Sabre had been a mentor and, at times, the only motherly figure I knew, but she was also expert at angering me. "You mean the boys given away by their greedy parents only to be forced into servitude, sentenced to a long hard life hunting down miserable dwellers of the und
erworld? Seems to me we should be grateful for them."

  "Always so dramatic and outspoken, Willow, and quick to judge, I might add. Those boys are paid a pretty penny. It's hardly servitude. Most would go mad with boredom if they couldn't ride around in Wynter chasing wraiths and monsters. It's what they were trained for."

  "But not born for," I added quickly. "Just like me, through no fault of their own except unfortunate parentage. Their lot in life was planned without consent."

  Sabre came to the edge of the landing and stared down at me with her wise blue gaze. The lines around her eyes grew deeper each day, and it wouldn't be long before she left her position as head guardian angel, relinquishing it to the next in line. "You've fallen for that scoundrel."

  "No," I said with a wave of my hand. "No, it's just that I've gained a clearer understanding of his kind. Sometimes it's wrong to judge someone solely on tall tales and outlandish rumors."

  Sabre's laugh was a bit like a string of bells going off in succession. "I assure you, my child, the tales are not tall and the rumors are far from outlandish. The Boys have a reputation and they didn't earn that unsavory notoriety by being gentlemen." She stopped and looked around as if she heard something in the distance. The soft pink pleats of her weathered cheeks smoothed with worry. Her long narrow fingers emerged from the sleeves of her white cloak. "Come inside with me, Willow. I'm in need of some hot tea, and we need to talk. There is something you need to know, now that your whereabouts have been compromised."

  I took her hand, and we walked inside. Gunner scurried past and went to his rug. Sabre shook her head in dismay. "The rules strictly forbid you to take the animals in as pets."

  "Rules don't apply when you are sitting in the middle of nowhere." I headed into the kitchen. "Gunner doesn't know how to survive in the wild." I turned with the kettle to the stove and lit the fire. "And besides, it is dreadfully lonely out here, Sabre. Would you have me sit in this cabin and talk to the walls?"

  "That's hardly ladylike, talking to walls." Sabre sat on the couch, on the cushion where just days earlier, one of those so-called hoodlums, rested his head as he lay nearly bleeding to death on my cabin floor. She seemed to sense that the stains on the floorboards were the leftover shadows of the blood I'd spent hours scrubbing away and moved her slippered feet back. Sabre was, by all accounts, a beautiful creature with her long waves of silver hair and skin so fair it was nearly translucent. Growing up I'd always been envious of the glistening white skin and hair of the angels, but eventually I grew to appreciate the bolder coloring that came with being half nymph. But I was still more than a little sore that I hadn't been blessed with wings. Angel wings were invisible to the naked eye but they allowed an angel to travel far distances in a short span of time. Like the wings that brought Sabre so quickly to my door.

  With Sabre, even given her lofty status in the angel world, she had always had an earthy edge to her that made her much more relatable than most guardian angels. I had never gotten along with the other guardians, and not just because they had no desire to be friendly to a half-breed but because I was nothing like them. Not in appearance or proprieties or personality.

  I came in and sat on the stone hearth, across from the couch. "I was thinking, Sabre, maybe I should join my mother in the nymph's meadow. I have the animals here, but the solitude is hard to endure. Maybe mother would be happy to see me."

  Sabre laughed and saw instantly that it hurt me. "I'm sorry, Willow. That was harsh. But your mother is never happy unless she is bringing some poor, unsuspecting man to his knees."

  I shot up. "You are still always on the side of my father. I don't know who he is, but something tells me he was far from unsuspecting when he began the affair with my mother. She was, after all, always a nymph. It's not like that little fact snuck up on him." The tea kettle whistled, and I headed back into the kitchen, thankful for the diversion. It would allow me to cool my head before I said something entirely regretful.

  Sabre remained silent, watching me with her ethereal, all knowing gaze as I filled the tea cup and carried it to her. Her long pinky raised as she sipped the hot beverage. "Much better. It is bitterly cold up here." She lowered the cup to the saucer. "Which brings me to something important. You will need to leave here, Willow. I will talk to your father this evening to think where we might hide you next."

  I listened to her words, but they were sounding less and less coherent as she spoke. "I don't understand. Hide me? Why are you hiding me? I thought I was here to take care of the animals."

  "Which you are and you have done yourself proud on that account. You are a very skilled healer, but now that you have had that man in the house, you are no longer safe."

  I stared at her for a long moment. "I need to know everything, Sabre. I'm no longer a young, naive girl. Why have I been dropped here in the middle of nowhere? I thought it was to save my father's reputation, but something tells me there is a far more sinister reason behind it all."

  She finished the tea and placed the empty cup on the end table. "You are right. And it's time you knew everything."

  I settled back down on the hearth. The remaining glow of the fire warmed my back. I looked expectantly at her, and it seemed she was trying to decide where to start.

  She relaxed back. "When you were a young girl, still living in the meadow with your mother, do you remember meeting Feenix?"

  "Feenix, leader of the underworld? Of course, I remember. It would be hard not to. His eyes were like black daggers and there was this sour odor that clung to his gray skin. When he came, I hid in the fields with many of the other nymphs. They shuddered at the sight of him. Not mother, of course."

  "No, of course. Odessa has never had enough sense to fear him."

  "Or maybe it's because she had a great deal of courage," I suggested. Sabre looked down her nose at all nymphs, but she had always held a special dose of revulsion for my mother. For no reason other than she had caused one of her precious archangels to fall off his pedestal.

  Sabre's silver brows lifted with that remark. "Yes, maybe. Anyhow, just as you saw Feenix and have not forgotten, Feenix has not forgotten you either. He was quite taken with you, and once he discovered who your real father was, he used that as blackmail."

  "Blackmail? For what? Archangels own no material wealth."

  "No, he never asked for money."

  The story was growing more twisted by the moment. Never had I expected Sabre to bring up Feenix. He was one of those miserable creatures you hoped to never cross paths with.

  I tilted my head in question. "Then what did he want?"

  "You."

  "Me?"

  "Your father promised Feenix your hand in marriage once you came of age. In return, Feenix would never reveal what he knew about your parentage."

  I swallowed back the sour bile that had risen in my throat, but I was sure it would return. I got up deciding suddenly that the fire was too hot and that there wasn't nearly enough air in the cabin. I hurried to the window and pushed it open. Frigid air blew in, cooling my face and relieving some of the nausea.

  I turned and sat against the window ledge. "So who sent me here? I've been of age for two years." And then a quick calculation made things more clear. "Which is why you sent me here right after my eighteenth birthday. Feenix was expecting his bride. My father did not just want to hide his shame away in the snow. He wanted to send me to the underworld, to Feenix no less." The room spun and I covered my mouth to keep from throwing up.

  "Sit, Willow. Sit down here next to me for heaven's sake before I have to pick you up off this bloodstained floor."

  I moved around and sat next to her on the couch. Her long fingers wrapped around my hand. "Your father regretted his decision immediately. He came to me, and we devised a plan to hide you from Feenix. Your father worked to banish Feenix from ever stepping into the mortal world, so he could never come for you. But his brother, Paygon, who is as mean as he is degenerate, could come after you at any time. Until now, it seemed t
hey had not been able to find you. But I believe the wraith that slipped out of Wynter was sent to find you or at least find a way to draw you out from hiding. And his plan worked. He'll just have to question the man you saved and find out exactly where you are."

  "Stryker won't tell him. I'm sure of that."

  She patted my hand. It felt condescending instead of comforting. I pulled my hand free.

  "My father is a monster. I'm glad I never met him."

  "No, Willow, he is truly angry at himself about this. He'll do everything in his power to keep you safe. Feenix is cruel. He has methods that can pry information out of the bravest—"

  I hopped up from the couch and covered my ears. "No, no don't say more. I'm already dangerously close to retching." I stopped at the fireplace and stared into the yellow flames. Just a few hours ago I was standing secure in Stryker's arms. Now it seemed my entire world was about to be upended just because he'd stumbled into my life.

  I turned back to Sabre. "What do I do now?"

  "I'm off to see your father so we can decide where to send you."

  "And what about the animals?"

  "I'll send a guardian to look after them. They'll be fine. It's you we need to worry about."

  Chapter Fourteen

  Stryker

  I gave the tape bordering the gauze one sharp yank. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." After all I'd gone through, the damn bandage hurt worse than the original gash.

  I stared down at the stitches, and for the millionth time since I'd left the mountains, my mind returned to Willow. I thought about her up alone in that harsh environment with no one to hold her, or kiss her. Hers were lips that should never be wasted. Sabre and the whole group of imperious guardian angels had no right to send her some place so remote. It was wrong in every sense, but I couldn't think of a way to change it. I wasn't exactly the type of human Sabre would listen to if I went to her with complaints. In fact, I was pretty fucking sure I wouldn't be welcome in the angel's realm . . . ever.