The spirit stood, military straight, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression curiously gentle despite the savage cast of his features. He was dressed in military fatigues, the shirt stained with blood. His blood if the torn cloth at the chest was any indication.
He laughed when he was boy, the spirit said softly, the voice filled with regret.> He had a coyote pup that would come out of its mother’s den and play with him. His laughter always reminded me of his mother.
Pain flickered across those hard features, and though he spoke to her, he never took his gaze from Dog.
I lost her, in childbirth. He glanced at her, but only for a second. She was too weak, from the damage to her body days before, when they’d found us again, to survive it. As she held our baby, she slipped from me.
Cassie didn’t speak; she didn’t think he expected her to speak.
He was ten when they found me. I’d left him in the mountains while I went for supplies. He looked at his chest and sighed before looking at Dog once again. I’d tried to train him to survive in case I didn’t return at some point, but ten is so very young for a child to be left alone. Even one trained to survive.
Ten was far too young, she agreed silently.
I swore to his mother I would always watch over him, so she could go peacefully to the other side. That I wouldn’t desert him until his mate found him, as mine found me. A thread of amusement touched his whispery voice. He’s a stubborn boy. Getting him to that island and getting him into place so I could draw you to the balcony that day took considerable effort, you know?
It was his presence she had sensed all those years ago, she realized. Hidden from sight but pushing her all the same. He was the reason she had agreed to those deals over the years, trusting Dog when logic told her it was insane. Because he was there, assuring her that Dog could be trusted.
You knew. I didn’t have to tell you. Though sometimes, I admit, I may have whispered assurances to the creature inside you. Your animal listens far better than you when it comes to my boy. He tilted his head as Dog shifted in his sleep, his hold tightening around her.
He survived, he whispered, once again somber. A boy, no more than ten. Alone. And until you, he never forgot he was alone. With you, he found hope.
And he’d given her hope. But her heart ached for the spirit who stood watching over his grown son even as he must have watched over him as a boy.
You should accept your animal, girl. It’s not truly Wolf, not truly Coyote, but a being as unique as your creation. It’s one creature, instinctive, accepting as no other could ever be. To survive, you must accept it as it accepted you, he warned her, taking his eyes from Dog only long enough to level a demanding look her way.
I named him Cainis, I called him Cain, the spirit told her, turning back to his son. I didn’t know how to be a father, but as I held my son and watched my mate die, I knew that small being was all that mattered. And as I died, unable to reach him, I couldn’t leave him. I’d sworn.
She felt a tear slip down her cheek, hurting for this Breed and for his loss, as well as Dog’s.
Now his mate has found him, and mine’s calling to me, he told her, his expression gentling as Dog’s hand gripped hers, holding it to his heart.
The spirit turned his gaze to her, his expression hardening then. Warn him, Cassie. Before you leave this place, warn him. His enemy knows him for who he is, for what he is now. The princess consorts with the enemy, it’s whispered, and Cain’s image has reached him … The voice trailed off, and fury flashed in eyes nearly black as the image wavered.
She could see him talking, his lips moving, his gaze fierce as he faded from sight, leaving only his regret and his fear for his son behind.
“Cassie?” Dog whispered her name, his voice scratchy, his hand stroking her arm as she realized she’d jerked upright, staring at the image as it faded, trying to read lips that she couldn’t see clearly to begin with. “What do you see, baby?”
Her head jerked around, staring down at him, and she realized she was shaking, trembling in reaction.
“Cainis, he called you Cain,” she whispered, her voice strangled as she fought to breathe. “It’s said the princess consorts with the enemy, and your image has reached him. He knows. He knows who and what you are …”
Fear tightened in her chest, a cold sweat breaking out across her flesh as Dog jerked upright and pulled the quilt around her before dragging her to the warmth of his chest.
She was so cold. Brutally cold. Ice flowed through her veins and she swore she could feel death breathing over her shoulder.
“It’s okay. Shhh. It’s okay, Cassie.” Dog kissed his mate’s brow and tried to warm her as he drew her back to lie against his chest. “It’s okay. Let me get you warm.”
It took long minutes to calm her breathing, to warm her, to convince her to just lie against him. It took even longer for her to drift back into a restless sleep. And all he could do was stare into the dark, the hairs at the back of his neck stiff with warning.
Cainis, though the spelling was different it meant the same thing. Dog. But his father had called him Cain. He barely remembered the father who’d raised him, who’d trained him to survive in a harsh wilderness. But he’d always remembered the warnings. If he was ever caught, his name was Cainis. He was created in Red Lab Three, but it was destroyed the year of his creation and he was rescued by a nurse who had since died. Always remember his enemy was Major. His mother was an angel. The warnings were always clear, repeated to him daily, and he’d repeated them back.
Until the day the man he called father hadn’t returned to the wilderness.
Cain. His father had called him Cain, but he was to never, ever allow the shortened version of his name to be known. If he was ever asked his name, he was Cainis. He was Dog. He was to beware of Major, and his mother was an angel.
He still carried the picture of his mother that his father had kept in the cabin. Blond, eyes a pretty blue, she’d stood tall, close to five-seven, and she’d stared up at her human mate dressed in military fatigues and glaring at the camera as though it were the enemy.
That picture was tucked in his pack, hidden in a slit he’d cut in the leather.