****
Raul looked around as he approached the flophouse he’d left Keira at the day before. Scenting the air, he filtered through the different smells: feral cats, a few squirrels, a rat or two. No sign of wolves—and no sign of panthers, either. He strode towards the front door of the tiny, ramshackle house tucked away in the woods and considered the course of action he’d taken.
Keira’s clan-mates had, in fact, met their death the morning after he’d spirited Keira away. Raul had hated to see it—he had hated the fact that he’d had to bear witness to such a brutal, unjust execution. The mood in the pack had been divided ever since—some of the Alpha’s most fervent followers were more than a little pleased with the course of action Reginald had taken, but it was obvious that there were many, many more who were doubtful of the wisdom of the act. Cam himself was less than thrilled, and Raul knew that his second wouldn’t snitch on him.
Keira’s escape at the hands of her clan-mates was an accepted cover in the pack. Certainly, Gary and Lachlan hadn’t disputed it; they had kept their mouths completely shut, not even saying anything in their own defense as Reginald read out the charges against them. Raul felt cold in the pit of his stomach at the memory of the two men, led out in their copper chains. He knew he would have to tell Keira as soon as he went into the safe house to bring her food; and he knew—from his own bonds with the members of his pack—what kind of grief she would feel.
He had, in fact, brought a bottle of whiskey with him, along with some food to last for a day, just for the purposes of drinking to her fallen family members. Raul took a deep breath, summoning the moral courage to face the pain he was about to give a total stranger, and turned the knob on the front door.
Keira sat in the gloom, half-sprawled on the couch, watching him as he entered. “They died,” she said dully. Raul closed the door behind him and nodded.
“I brought food and booze,” he said, crossing the room to the dilapidated old chair next to the couch. “I hope you like whiskey.”
“I like anything that will get me good and drunk right now,” Keira replied.
“There should be some glasses in the kitchen,” Raul said. “I’ll put the food in there, too.” He looked away from the were-panther, feeling uncomfortable. I should have known that she would have already felt the loss of her clan-mates, Raul thought, stepping into the tiny kitchen in the safe house and opening the fridge. He shoved the bag of food into the fridge and turned to the cabinets, opening one and reaching for two glasses.
He brought the bottle and glasses back into the living room and sat down in the chair once more. “I knew they were going to die,” Keira said quietly. “I mean—intellectually I knew it. But when I felt that wrench…” she sighed. “And when you walked in I could see it all over your face.”
“If I could have stopped it, I would have,” Raul told her. He cracked the seal on the whiskey bottle and poured them each a healthy shot. “Even if you are a glorified housecat.” He extended one of the glasses towards Keira and she snatched it from him, barely waiting for Raul to settle the other glass in his hand before she knocked back the contents. Raul smiled with more than a little bit of respect for the neat way the woman drank down the burning alcohol.
“So, what are we going to do now?” Keira put her glass down on the coffee table and Raul refilled it, doubling the shot.
“Now we’re going to drink, and in a day or two, I’ll start putting out feelers for a contact in your clan.” Raul finished his shot and exhaled sharply. Keira waited for him to pour his second shot and then as one they knocked back their liquor.
“I’m going to miss those assholes,” Keira said, setting her glass down and sighing. “I mean, Lachlan was one of those guys, you know—totally had to be kept in his place, unpredictable, thought he was so much better than everyone else—but he was family.”
“I know what you mean,” Raul said, smiling a little sadly. “This feud thing has to end.” Keira hesitated a moment and then nodded slowly.
They drank a few more shots and then Raul went into the kitchen, retrieving some of the food he’d brought for Keira. She wasn’t drunk, but she was definitely more than a little tipsy. “God,” she said, tilting her head back against the arm of the couch. “I almost can’t believe that Lachlan is dead.”
“You were close?” Keira snorted.
“He wanted to mate me,” she said, shaking her head. “No chance of that.”
“Do you want to mate at all?” Raul raised an eyebrow.
“I won’t mate with anyone who can’t take me in a challenge,” Keira informed him. “And so far, no one in my clan can take me.” Raul chuckled.
“I almost took you,” he pointed out. Keira looked at him sharply for a moment and then slowly smiled.
“Almost,” she said.