Brienne: Wolves of Sorrow, #2

By Elaina Roberts

Control.

It's the guiding principle of Brienne's life. Restrain the wolf. Remain calm. No extreme emotions.
A cage to keep her sane and safe, built on love and reenforced with fear.

On The Kaleidoscope, the cage shattered and left Brienne frantic to regain the peace she'd lost. Combat training eases her aggression. Work with the pack keeps her busy. They are but temporary bandages that fix nothing. Until she stumbles across a deserted beach with the familiar crunch of sand beneath her feet. Only there, with the Tyelann Sea stretching toward the horizon and the crashing waves a soothing song, can her wolf rest.

Or she could if the aggravating, alluring Xaeth Aliir would go away. The Rifaniir male intrigues the wolf and awakens desires she'd thought buried in Sorrow. When the ka-Razheen invites her on a diplomatic trip to Zephyr's Rest, Brienne welcomes the chance to reconnect with her adopted sister and find peace away from the pack and its memories of betrayal.

But death stalks the floating city leaving a trail only a wolf can follow. With Xaeth at her side, Brienne must use her nascent tracking skills to catch a killer and choose between a life of safety and control or glorious freedom as the woman she was always meant to be.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elaina Roberts
• Release date: Feb 15, 2022
• ISBN: 9798223638551

Book preview

1

Pick it up!

Brienne growled at the snarled command. She’d been doing that more often, her wolf a solid presence in her mind where once it’d been a mere shadow. With the beast’s nearness came heightened emotions she’d learned to regulate at a young age. Anger, sadness, even joy could be dangerous, her papa had told her. She had to be careful. She had to learn control. He couldn’t handle losing her like he lost her mother. 

She took several deep breaths like her father had taught her, but the wolf refused to settle. It demanded to be seen, to be valued by the brother she’d worshipped as a pup. Older and more dominant, Mercer had been her rock after their father’s doomed run to the stabilizer. The wolf, like the woman, craved his approval.

That’s it, sis. Mercer’s voice remained calm and soothing, his body loose and relaxed, He turned with her, too experienced to show her his back. Take a deep breath and get your wolf under control.

The gentle tone raised her hackles. No! She was sick of keeping her life under control. Staying calm and biddable had cost her too much already. Her father. Her mate. Her wolf. No more. Her claws emerged from her fingertips. Her vision sharpened. She prowled in a slow circle around her brother. The practice blade he’d knocked from her hands lay forgotten on the floor. She ignored the warnings drilled into her from puppyhood. Ignored, too, Mercer’s familiar scent which smelled of security and safety and home.

She darted forward, fangs bared and a growl rumbling her chest. He blocked her clumsy attack and pushed her back. A red haze clouded her vision, fury and pain robbing her of everything but the need to make someone, anyone pay.

Four months and it still hurt. The betrayal by those entrusted to guide and protect created a festering wound which refused to heal. The elders had played games with their packmates’ lives, and too many had paid the price for their hubris.

She lunged at him again. And again. Punching, clawing, even trying to bite if she drew close enough. Her technique was clumsy; her rage was infinite. With a curse, Mercer swept her feet from under her and pinned her to the floor of the training room.

Enough! His chest heaved and blood ran from a trio of cuts on his right cheek. She stared at those cuts, shock cutting through her rage and sorrow. She’d done that. She’d clawed her brother and made him bleed. She raised her hand, withdrew it when he flinched.

Mercer? Brienne curled her hand into a fist and cradled it against her chest.

There you are.

He cupped her cheek, pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. She shuddered. His scent surrounded her, warm and loving and alive. Her wolf settled, the beast’s fury giving way to the human’s shame and pain and fear. Tears burned her eyes.

You’re bleeding.

Shh. It’s okay, sis. It’s okay. 

"It’s not okay. You’re bleeding." She touched trembling fingers to the skin below the claw marks. Marks she’d made. Marks she didn’t remember making. When she withdrew them, she stared at the red that stained their tips.

His smile held pride and more than a little concern. Your wolf is clever and sneaky. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were part cat.

It’s not funny. I hurt you. Each word was a blow to her battered heart. She wouldn’t let him brush this aside.

It was my own damned fault for underestimating you. He stood and offered her his hand. I was letting you burn off some aggression, and you got in under my defenses. To be honest, I’m impressed.

She let him pull her to her feet and offered him a shaky smile in return. Her father had taught her to cage her wolf before she could walk, and it hadn’t fought the restraints. She’d become so skilled at controlling her animal, the elders had waived the need for defensive training.

Her wolf was a gentle creature, Conrad had said, content to follow rather than fight. The risk was too great to expose it to unnecessary violence. Until the last Conclave on the Kaleidoscope. Until she learned the truth behind the death which stalked Sorrow’s strongest warriors.

Since then, control was shifting sand through her fingertips, fleeting and ephemeral. The wolf refused to remain tucked away like a shameful secret. Too many of her loved ones had died because of others’ beliefs in what was right or acceptable. She refused to be another. Her wolf had awakened, and it raged over the lost time.

Brienne tried. Long runs in the forest to hunt the small prey which scurried in the underbrush. Combat training to curb her increasing aggression. Staying so busy she fell into bed at night, exhausted and mostly content. Today, however, she’d lost control entirely. The fight remained a hazy blur, like watching it through a heat shimmer in the wastes. It terrified her.

Talk to me.

The wolf bared its fangs at the order. No more orders. No more control. Brienne removed the tie from her hair and wrestled her unruly black waves back into a messy ponytail. She needed to regain some equilibrium. She needed the sea.

Not yet, she said. She grabbed her water bottle and took a long drink. Sweat covered her skin, and her chest heaved, but she felt more alive than ever. I’m still working through it. When I figure it out, I’ll let you know. I promise.

She felt his worried gaze follow her out of the training room. He didn’t push, though she knew he wanted to. Brienne had always been stubborn. Her papa said she could argue with a stone and win. And right now, she was in no mood for one of Mercer’s interrogations dressed as concern.

Ditching her gear in her room, she bolted for the forest. The huge trees surrounding the wolves’ small cluster of dens wrapped her in soothing darkness. The further she ran, the more tension drained from her body. This was why she couldn’t talk to Mercer. Her brother viewed the pack as an extension of his family. She didn’t, not any longer.

They’d turned their backs on a scared, desperate little girl. They’d ignored the elders’ evil, unwilling to place themselves between their leaders’ claws and the good of the pack. She didn’t care if it was due to fear, complacency, or apathy. She only knew the pack her brother loved was anathema to her now.

She allowed the wolf more freedom and they ran. The animal’s keen vision and agility guided her over roots, around stones, and beneath branches. Small creatures scurried into their burrows as she raced through the night, birds fell silent or took flight at her passage. She ignored them all as she raced to the one place which helped calm the violent fury which seduced and repelled her.

Twilight had given way to true night when she emerged from the dense forest and onto a sandy beach. Sweat plastered her shirt to her chest and mud coated her pants. She didn’t care. She could breathe again. Kicking off her shoes and socks, she walked along the shore and let the waves swirl around her ankles.

There’d been no ocean near Sorrow. Earth Prime’s sun was dying, reducing most of the planet to endless miles of sand, rock, and prickly scrub bushes. Perhaps that was why she was drawn to this place, why she found such peace here when others of her pack viewed it with terror. There were no memories attached to such a place, no joy smothered by fear and anger.

Here, she wasn’t Conrad’s child or Mercer’s sister. She didn’t have to endure the pack’s pity of being Rory’s widow or their hostility at being Shoba’s friend. Here, she could just be Brienne. She could breathe.

She climbed up the narrow trail to her favorite spot on the cliffside. The bite of the stones beneath her feet and the scrape of twiggy bushes clinging to the cliff face was real in a way nothing had been real for years. She’d grown up encased in ice in the harsh desert heat. Fear for her brother when Mercer made the final run to the stabilizer, the uncertainty of relocating to a new planet controlled by a race less human than the wolves of Sorrow, even Takbir’s betrayal hadn’t penetrated the hard shell she’d wrapped around her inner self. That had needed a sharper, harsher blow.

Settling into a sheltered crevice worn smooth by time and the ocean’s waves, Brienne drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Mercer wanted her to talk to him. She laughed, the sound hollow and wet. The truth would shatter him as surely as the elders’ manipulations to retain power had shattered her faith in the pack and her own judgment. Someone should have noticed what they were doing. Mercer should have noticed. She snarled. She should have noticed.

She’d been a juvenile when their father left on that first run, watched as packmate after packmate followed his doomed path. Even when the runs slowed from weekly to monthly and then yearly, when she’d grown into an adult and accepted a mate, she hadn’t put the pieces together. Hadn’t noticed that only those who’d lost the elders’ favor were chosen for the honor. She felt the growl rise in her throat at the last word, her claws press into her skin through the thin material of her practice gear.

It’s not wise to challenge the sea, not even a siren of such beauty.

Brienne rose to her feet, claws out and fangs bared. She wasn’t a strong dominant like her siblings, but she was through with being seen as weak. This stranger had intruded on her peace and mocked her with his words. The elders were out of her reach, and she refused to harm her brother. She smiled. He’d do nicely.

A hint of cedar and lemongrass dusted with bergamot spice drifted on the ocean breeze. She drew in the scent, raising her head to follow it to its source. There! A blurry smudge barely visible in the moon’s gentle light. Two meters to her right and cloaked in Rifaniir camouflage, her prey balanced on the edge of the cliff.

It’s less wise to startle a wolf. She threaded the wolf’s eagerness for blood into her voice, let her growl rise in volume and menace.

His scent wavered, and she went predator still. She wasn’t a trained tracker, she wasn’t a trained anything, but he’d moved. She was certain of it. Looking around the alcove, she assessed her options.

Regardless of Mercer’s teasing, she wasn’t one of the cats. She couldn’t pounce on her prey, not with a sheer drop of over twenty meters behind him. If she missed, a very real possibility due to the Rifaniir’s speed and agility, she’d plummet to the jagged rocks below. If she succeeded, there was a chance she’d push him over that edge. She couldn’t do it, not with her best friend mated to the razheen of Korlyn’s Glen. She took a cautious step out of the protective alcove.

Perhaps not wise but worth it. She’d been right. He’d moved. Not far, but enough to block the wind at his back. How else would I get to see your lovely face?

The air rippled like waves on a calm sea. Her prey had moved again. She turned in a slow circle, senses on alert. The once-helpful wind now worked against her to carry her prey’s scent away from her. Her eyes narrowed. A faint trace remained in the air, the warm spice of him calling her wolf to rise higher in her mind.

She flexed her fingers, reassured by her sharp claws. Why hadn’t he masked his scent as the others of his race were wont to do? A trap? She spotted a glint of moonlight on silver in the darkness above her favorite alcove, searched for and found the cedar and lemongrass sprinkled with bergamot. His speed impressed and annoyed her.

She bared her short fangs in a snarl. Come closer, Rifaniir, and get a better look.

This place was hers. Her refuge from the pack and the emotions they stirred. A soothing balm for her anger, solace for her soul. This stranger defiled her sanctuary with his mockery, unsettled her wolf when she longed for peace.

That would be rushing things. He dropped the camouflage, appearing on a large boulder overlooking the water. Where’s the fun in that?

He was more handsome than he had a right to be. A strong jaw, defined cheekbones, and sinfully kissable lips. His fitted wetsuit of deepest blue swirled with black and silver hugged his slender yet muscular frame. The moon bathed his hair in a silvery glow and turned the highlights a pale blue to match his eyes. He tilted his head as the silence stretched, his smile as wide as it was false.

Who are you?

The wetsuit bothered her. The waves here were turbulent, and the shoreline riddled with sharp rocks and submerged tree branches. During their welcome briefing, the locals had warned the pack about the sea’s strong undercurrent. Even if the water was calm as a frozen pond, midnight wasn’t an ideal time for a relaxing swim.

All the wolves of Sorrow were learning about Barif’s current social and political structure, including the eight provinces which formed the Forum. Tyelann’s Depths bordered Razheen Elloufen’s province to the north and were viewed as allies.

Brienne knew all too well how even the most trusted person can harbor ill intent. The pack had trusted their elders once as the razheen had trusted Takbir. Her sister was ka-Razheen. If this man proved to be a spy, he’d find no welcome with Brienne.

I am but a poor male enchanted by your beauty.

Bullshit, she muttered.

He laughed, the sound clear and playful. Meet me here tomorrow night, my beautiful siren. Maybe you’ll find out.

Turning, he raced toward the edge of the outcropping and dove into the sea below. Brienne rushed forward and looked down. There was no body broken on the jagged rocks, no transport racing away from the cliff or boat heading toward the horizon. Nothing but the lingering scent of cedar and bergamot infused lemongrass and the joyful sound of a dolphin in the distance.

***

She filled her days with weapons training, sentry duty, and administration tasks. She didn’t mind the busywork. Usually. She preferred her life orderly and organized, each item in its place and each task checked off the list. Before she’d learned of the elders’ betrayal, she’d kept lists and made schedules and ensured the pack ran like a well-oiled machine instead of a pack of feral wolves. But the pack didn’t feel like home to her now. Their problems annoyed rather than amused her.

After four months on Barif, the wolves continued to rely on Mercer’s guidance. The older juveniles researched classes and job opportunities in Korlyn’s Glen and beyond, while the adults held too tightly to tradition. They didn’t want to know how things were done in their new home, refused to integrate with Rifaniir society if it meant giving up being a pack ruled by its elders.

The younger wolves sought her help with registering for classes in the city, choosing a field of study, or completing an application. Peter, a young male transitioning from juvenile to adult, spent more days in Korlyn’s Glen studying their medical tech than he did with the pack. Sorcha started training in another month to work with the Rifaniir comm systems.

The adults, however, weren’t happy to see the pack fragmenting. Parents discouraged their children from exploring their new world, and more tempers than hers were rising. Just this morning, she’d arbitrated two petty misunderstandings which threatened to morph into violence. The arguments were ridiculous even for adolescents, but the wolves had long passed adulthood. They knew better. She reminded them that weaker than Mercer didn’t mean she was weak and tore a strip off each of them for allowing things to escalate to such a degree.

Due to their obstinance, Brienne’s primary responsibility shifted from helping her brother ease the pack into their new