Page 87 of Commanding Flame and Shield
August’s expression flickered from offense to amusement. “Always.”
That certainty settled in my bones, and I knew it was true. That he would give all he had for me, just as I would for him. This could work—would work.
“I’ll send word to the Westerlunds that you’re coming up. Go get what you need.”
THIRTY-FIVE
WESTERLUNDS
ALVARA
“You mountain dwellers always loved to make an entrance.” That ancient, British bass voice rumbled behind us within a second of our feet meeting the slick concrete floor. The enormous glass wall in front of us stared out to the city lights, nearly as bright as day. I turned on my heel and heard the soft thud of luggage on the floor as our coven dropped their bags. In my periphery, I saw August’s hand rest on the dagger on his hip as he settled and took in the man before us.
Nearly Aren’s size, Marcus towered over me, hands braced on his hips in mock-disapproval, bulging tattooed muscles bursting from his white t-shirt. His dark curls were cropped shorter than when I last saw him. The contrast between that deep amber complexion and electric azure eyes made him even more mesmerizing as he surveyed our little group. His gaze landed on me, before that bright smile stretched across the broad planes of his face.
“Alvara, it’s good to see you, sister.” He closed the gap, and we wrapped each other up in a tight hug. The hard muscles of him like embracing a warm stone. He stepped back and offered me his hand in an embrace like brotherhood. Accepting, my eyes fluttered closed as he shared the last few years with me, like strobe flashes of lightning.
“You have been busy.” I smiled, but let the taunt settle in my tone.
“Don’t let him fool you, he’s been sitting on his ass.” Alec teased as he strode forward to wrap his arms around our Eastern cousin.
“If he’d been busy, we wouldn’t need to be here, now, would we?” Aphaea chided as she strode up behind her mate. Three rumbling laughs filled the living room as Damien and Jason spirited into the space from opposite hallways, their steps silent despite their colossal frames. The round of embraces continued, and then Marcus jerked his chin towards August.
“Who’s your friend?”
“Gentlemen, I’m excited to introduce you to August Porter. August is my first calling.” Jason and Damien both raised their eyebrows—I snorted and shook my head, which earned three sets of narrowed eyes. Marcus was the first to offer the formality of a greeting, stretching his muscled, scar flecked hand out to shake August’s.
“Marcus Westerlund, at your service.”
August gave a nod of thanks, and then reached for Damien, who promptly introduced himself, and accepted the gesture, his smooth accent a match to his brother.
“Which leaves, Jason, if I’m correct?” August and the third brother clasped hands, and I realized this was his first impression of another coven. Of another hierarchy Commander, and his second and third. Frankly, it would probably be the easiest introduction between all the Commanders. The other clans were…different. These brothers led much like Aren, Ansel and I did. Which, I supposed, was why the friendly rivalry had formed between the guardians among us.
Damien and Jason both shared in the chiseled frame of their eldest brother, but not his towering height. The twins stood level with Alec and August, but the resemblance between the trio was uncanny, down to the way they moved their lithe bodies, like the great predators they were. Their curly locks were just a bit longer than their leader, both a bit sun bleached towards the end. In particular, those otherworldly azure eyes made their connection undeniable. Westerlund eyes, as Aren referred to them. Present in each of their children, like a signature of the blood line. Siblings bearing ascending souls weren’t all that uncommon, but it was still always a bit jolting to see them together.
Another telltale of the brothers was their ability to shift physical forms. Only a handful of souls were shifters, and a majority of those were somehow assigned to the far north. It took an immense understanding of your body, and how to manipulate the energy of your cells to transform into another shape, let alone possess their biological strengths.
The Westerlunds were over five centuries old, and had only been shifting for the last of those. Aren had always been deeply disappointed that he hadn’t mastered that gift in all his years. In all our encounters, I’d never been able to see them complete their shift, or the great predatory animals they took the form of. Rumors had circled of lions, or jaguars or cheetahs, but the brothers would neither confirm nor deny any of the stories.
Our cousins to the northwest took the form of great, terrifying wolves. The stuff of nightmares, they rose as tall as most mortal men when they shifted. Their great jaws just as powerful as any sword.
August’s wide eyes caught my attention, and I realized I’d left my thoughts open as I roved over the legends. The brothers all shared toothy grins as I centered my gaze back on them. They enjoyed my frustration of not knowing, took pride in the legend of their other forms. Jason met my eyes with amusement, his mind thick with hope that his shift could be enough intrigue to buy us time together. He didn’t balk as I smirked, a mirthless smile. We stared each other down for a moment, mirroring smiles and taunting humor. I made sure Jason was the first to blink.
Marcus, energy heavily amused, led us all onto the yellow, mid-century modern sectionals, and bohemian tufts in front of the electric fireplace, which flickered with a welcoming light.
“So. You’re going after Jones.” There was no question in Marcus’ voice as he sat down on the couch between Damien and Alec. He leaned forward with lethal grace, bracing himself on his knees just as Aren so often did. Jason leaned against a thick iron column behind the gathering area, arms crossed, observing from a distance. “His armada is dangerous, Ally. We’ve been observing them for decades. Even in youth, he posed a threat.”
“We know.” I held my chin high, staring down those stunning blue eyes. “We’re prepared.”
“You’ve got a plan.”
“Yes. August has an in for us.”
The Commander flicked his eyes to August, looking him from head to toe. “The rookie?”
“The rookie,” August grinned, his tone haughty, “has been introduced on more than one occasion.”
“So, you keep sleazy company?” Jason interjected, earning a quick glare from his Commander.
