Journey finished her plate, keeping the sheet around her like a frightened animal. I didn’t like it. Not one bit of me did.
She feared me. We would have to overcome that. But another thought pounding my brain was what Journey was to my wolf. His feelings were clear—he wanted her. I could feel the animal stir, pawing at my head, begging. I could almost shift through the last conversations we had before we were rejected.
He was coming alive again.
Could it possibly be he was returning to me? Ready to establish a connection again? It was unheard of for a rogue to come back.
If our mate rejected us and mated with another, the leftover soul rotted, meaning me and the rest of my brothers. There were no chosen mates for the broken soul.
“Thank you,” her soft voice said. She had become a different person this morning, not the spunky girl I carried to my apartment who was not afraid to ask questions.
Before I could start a conversation with her, Sizzle opened the door. I growled, causing Journey to jump and scurry back to the wall on the other side of the bed. Sizzle glanced down at the plate in my hand and the fork ready to feed another bite to Journey.
His eyes widened, glancing from her to me.
Sizzle was nauseatingly attractive to the females that roamed the bar. He stayed away from the bar unless it was absolutely necessary, hiding in Saturated Ink to stay away from the seductive glances. I wasn’t sure of his story. Most of us didn’t know anyone’s stories except those we’d grown extremely close to. Sizzle had an aversion to women and refused to tattoo any female.
Journey watched him intently. Her body didn’t get aroused at the sight of him, but my wolf thought it would be best to keep him away.
“What?” I growled, the veins in my forearms pulsed, and my grip tightened on the Styrofoam plate.
“Did you?” He pointed to the plate and to her but shook his head. “Pres wants us at the church. Bring the girl.” He didn’t look at her again, his lips pressing into a thin line, and walked out the door.
Journey and I walked side by side, our arms brushing from time to time. At least she didn’t pull away because my wolf wouldn’t have it. He wanted her close. Wanted to bury our nose in her skin, smell that floral hint that had become stronger. I was unsure if my chest hurt because of indigestion or heartburn, but I knew one thing it couldn’t be. A bond.
There were no second chances, no matter how magnificent she smelled to us.
As dead set as I was in believing she wasn’t a female we could keep, my wolf snarled again with distaste. He liked her; he never wanted anyone.
I guess that counted for something. But what was that something?
Her skin was naturally pale without the pounds of makeup that decorated her face when we found her. Her eyes were far brighter without the painted lids, and her pink lips much more innocent than the seductive red.
She kept her slender body warm by covering it with large clothing. The occasional shiver ran through her, and it made me come closer to her. So far, I was the only one she trusted, and I would keep it that way.
I grunted, trying not to look at her. My gaze was heated as I looked at her. My wolf wanted her.
Surely she could feel my stares. I diverted my attention back to the broken sidewalk, the worn-down buildings, and the weeds that crawled up the storm drains as we walked closer to the church.
Locke thought it was a beautiful tragedy to pick an old church as the center of the Iron Fang. Once the church had been filled with human sinners begging for redemption, now it was stuffed with those who had no souls to save.
Locke bought out the previous owners with what money he had. We started from the ground up, giving us enough money for supplies for the businesses around the three blocks where we all stayed.
We were set with an apartment complex, tattoo parlor, bar, mechanic, garage, and bodyguard services. Set enough for us to live comfortably until our animals finally arranged for us to leave this world alone.
The old church was left unchanged. It wasn’t repaired like the rest of that small part of town where we congregated. The cross that hung over the front door had lost a nail, so it dangled upside down, swinging in the wind.
Old stained glass, dusty and filled with cracks, slowly deteriorated. Locke wanted us to keep it this way, a reminder that the only savior of the world was us. We were on our own.
No one believed in the Moon Goddess anymore. That ship had sailed long ago. We’d burned a wolf skull into the wood of the pulpit. That was what we were. Nothing but empty vessels that used to house our souls.
Today’s meeting would be held in the bishop’s office. The round table was meant only for Locke’s closest brothers—me, Sizzle, Hawke, Switch, and Beretta, the only female anyone trusted. She was a black panther shifter with a crazy obsession with guns. The small gun shop and arsenal she ran for the club proved most helpful.
She was one of the only ones that didn’t deserve to be here. Her mate had died in front of her when the alpha male of her tribe sought to take her as his chosen female. She fled her pride so the alpha wouldn’t force a claim. But with her mate gone, her soul started to die as well. That was not to say that she hurt any less than the rest of us who had been rejected by our mates.
Journey stiffened when we strolled into the room. It was filled with old books, papers, and dust-covered busts of saints the humans either worshipped or prayed to. We never paid much attention to what they believed in.
Locke sat at the far end of the table. His smile brightened when we appeared. He was the least dangerous-looking male in the room with that damn smile, yet people feared him. Maybe it was because of that playful exterior that he liked to show to the enemies to lull them into feeling more comfortable. But I damned well knew why he smiled.
