Heart of a Rocky (8 page)

THE ORDER’S COMPOUND
was
already packed with Rockys from the nearby area. Many didn’t have much goodwill to give to their fellow Rocky, which only made Omar more willing to defend Tyson’s right to live. Their hatred of him was based on personal reasons, but the truth was Tyson hadn’t actually harmed anyone. He may have offended them with his words by calling some of them on their bullshit, but he was rarely wrong when he vocalized his disapproval of anyone.

The truth was Tyson’s greatest offense was staying to himself. He hadn’t been behaving much like a Rocky since the incident, so he kept the assignments to a minimum.

“Omar,” Mikko Wayne said by way of greeting. “We will meet in my office. Trent, I will speak with you after the ceremony. The rest of you will ensure that he is ready for the ceremony.”

Everyone obeyed Mikko Wayne’s command, but everyone else missed Tyson’s small smirk of satisfaction.

If he thought he was going to use the Rockys for his death, then Tyson was mistaken. He’d die on his feet or he’d live. The Rockys wouldn’t be used as his executioners. Now all Omar had to do was convince their Mikko.

“Shut the door,” Mikko Wayne said when they entered his office. The door had barely closed when he continued, “I saw his smile. He wants this. Why shouldn’t I oblige him?”

“We are not executioners. We are Rockys. If he is guilty of a crime against our laws and people, so be it, Dispel him. If he isn’t, we can’t kill him simply because we don’t like him and he wants it.”

“You don’t like him?”

“I have no issue with him. The reason he is… difficult to deal with is partially my fault.”

“How so?”

“A little over a year ago, I killed his Soul’s Mate. I didn’t know. Hell, he barely Saw her before she died.”

“How did you find this out?”

“He pulled me aside about six months later. He was pissed, but still coherent. He said if it got to the point that he couldn’t take it, he wanted me to kill him with the same regard I paid to his Soul’s Mate. I refused, because I did not believe I had killed his mate. I knew I wouldn’t have killed one mate without killing the other, but he explained when it happened. He thinks I owe him this death. I’m not executing him. Not like this. He deserves to die in honor. This is a coward’s death.”

Mikko was quiet for a long time before he nodded. “I wasn’t going to kill him. I brought the others in for a different reason altogether. Tyson will go into exile. We will not call on him for battle, but he can call us in his time of need. I am aware that he won’t, which is why I left the option for him to reach out. He isn’t the type to give up; maybe with purpose he will change his willingness to die.”

“Thank you, Mikko.”

“I don’t do this for you or him. I do this because we are Rockys. We are not executioners. I will not let us slaughter our brethren so callously without regard to what it would look like to the masses. For that reason alone, Tyson lives. He has a chance at redemption. Hopefully, he uses it.” He nodded to the door. “Send my son in.”

After a short nod, Omar went out to find Trent who was cautiously watching Tyson from across the room.

“Your father—”

“I know. Thank you, Tor.” He gave Omar a shallow bow before disappearing to his father’s office.

Omar stood among the other gathered Rockys waiting for Mikko Wayne to finish his meeting with Trent. There were a few who seemed to barely contain their relief of Tyson’s possible demise. Others appeared indifferent, content to accept whatever judgment their Mikko levied against Tyson for his most recent behavior.

He was growing impatient listening to whispered comments about Tyson when Mikko Wayne and Trent guided everyone to the outside meeting space.

Tyson was ushered onto deck to stand next to their leader before Wayne stepped forward and addressed the crowd.

“Asim Tyson, Defender of the Hafiz, has been accused of grossly insulting a fellow Rocky, routinely disrespecting those who command him, and frequent verbal disregard to members of the Order. For that, the punishment should be Dispelling.

“However, there appears to be a matter at hand that I was unaware of. Our brother-in-arms suffers a fate we should not wish on any Lycan. He was witness to the death of his Soul’s Mate. The circumstances of that loss are sensitive; therefore, I will not divulge it to you. Yet, a Rocky must face his or her erroneous ways. We must always be held to a higher standard than those who call out to us for aid.”

Mikko Wayne paused and turned to address Tyson directly. “Tyson, from this day, until the day you have proved your worthiness, you are exiled. You will not be called upon by the Rockys, nor will we come to your aid should you need us. We will only make an exception to this if all Lycan kind is subject to exposure. Additionally, you will not be able to guide Rockys-in-waiting through their Withstanding. To further ensure this, you will cut off your hair and burn it in apology to our co-creator, Nivar, God of Gods. You will not be permitted to grow your hair longer than two inches until you have been welcomed back from exile.”

Trent held out the scissors to his father, who cut off Tyson’s nearly waist-long hair. Next, the sound of clippers cut the remaining length to its allowable length. Mikko Wayne gestured to the roaring fire, where Tyson gathered his hair and tossed them into the flames.

Omar watched the hair burn and his fellow Rocky go to his knees. Tyson had looked hollow before, but now, missing his hair that made him uniquely Tyson, seemed to whittle the male down to something he barely recognized. He feared for the male the Order would get back when his exile was over and prayed that his time away would bring Tyson the peace that the Longing would not give him.

When Tyson finally rose from his knees beside the fire, everyone began separating into their various groups. The disappointed ones made their hasty exits, while those on the fence hovered as if they wanted to find out the entire story.

Omar rolled his eyes and tried to ignore Tyson’s glare, but in the end, Rockys don’t have avoidance issues.

“What, Tyson?”

“I didn’t ask you to step in. You should have left it alone.”

“I said what was necessary. You want to die? Die like a fucking Rocky—on your feet in battle defending our brethren. We don’t die like cowards. This was a coward’s way out, and we are not executioners.”

“You’ve ensured I won’t meet a battle for a long time.”

“I’ve done nothing. Mikko made that added clause. I just asked that you not be killed on the basis that you lost your mate.”

“I didn’t
lose
her. She isn’t lost in the world. You killed her.”

“In battle. Don’t make out like I did it on purpose. Had I known, it wouldn’t have happened. If you think I wouldn’t have adjusted to account for what she was to you, then you have no concept of what our oath means. I live it. Do you?”

“Every day despite how much I wish I didn’t take another breath.”

Omar sighed. “I won’t pretend to understand what the Longing
is doing to you knowing that she isn’t alive, but I know you won’t meet death like this. The Rocky in you won’t allow it.”

“Meaning?”

“I was there at your Withstanding, Tyson. It took Mikko Wayne, Sean, and me to finally break you. While you were in the tank, Mikko Wayne made a comment about the female you’d end up with. She’s going to be a hell of a female to have to deal with you. Nothing about you is kind. You do realize that. You’ve always been a mean fucker. Hafiz don’t mate for life like Talas. You’d be fucked then. Maybe you have another shot out there somewhere. The perfect mate to give you hell. Just what every male needs.”

Tyson flashed a hint of a smile. “Maybe.”

“Good. Get your shit together. I have to speak to Mikko and head home before my mate starts to take over the pride.”

Tyson gave a nod before venturing away from everyone. He didn’t get to stay alone long as Trent made his way directly to him. The kid had an affinity for Tyson’s style. Scary thought that was.

* * *

Anise placed a sleeping Zavier in his crib just as Yara announced the return of Omar. The female seemed oddly wary of the coming conversation she wanted to have with her beloved Tor.

“It will be fine, Yara.”

She glanced up from the notes she’d written to herself. “Huh? Yes, Nabila, I’m sure it will, but… who knows? He may be mad that I want to relinquish my title.”

“You want to do what?”

They both spun around to find Omar standing in the doorway with a small duffel bag in his hands.

“Um…” Yara said.

He shook his head. “Hold onto that thought, Yara. Give me a minute with Anise, and I’ll call you back, okay?”

“Yes, Tor,” she said before she slipped from the room.

Omar went over and peeked into the crib at her son. “Thank you for changing out the furniture.” He looked up at her. “How have things been here?”

“Fine. No real issues.”

“Meaning?”

“No one had anything that they needed me to handle.”

She didn’t mention that no one wanted her to handle their issues either. The pride was simply too patriarchal to want to air their grievances to anyone but the Tor.

Annoyed with her situation and the unwillingness of the pride to accept her help, she sighed. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“What am I supposed to be doing? Like, am I going to be running the house or whatever?”

He smiled and dropped his bag next to the bedside. “Something has come up that I want to explain to both of you.” He went to the hall and called Yara back to the room. “First, I wanted to tell you that Mikko Wayne sends his congratulations, Anise.”

The mention of their Mikko jarred her from her thoughts of possible domestic duties and the further decline of her emotional well-being. She was not the female to be stuck in the house. She’d done it long enough to know what it was like to plot the many ways you can murder someone and not get caught. Any time spent doing more of the same under Omar’s rule and she might be inclined to do more than plot.

She nodded, muting her mental response. “I’ll have to send him a thank you.”

“You can thank him in person. Next month, you’ll start going once month for retraining. Yara will go with you as your Lykata. Once he’s satisfied, you will start taking on any missions he sends your way. We are never going out at the same time, so don’t worry about Zavier. One of us will always be here.”

She blinked, trying to process what he said. “What?”

“You’re a Rocky, correct?”

“Yes, but…”

“But nothing. It’s time you actually do what Rockys are supposed to do.” He cleared his throat and looked at Yara. “Thank you for thinking of my place here as Tor and stepping down. It’s appreciated, but you will not be relegated to regular staff. As I said, you’ll be Anise’s Lykata. You’ll go with her on her Rocky missions. She is your direct command. No one else, save Mikko Wayne, may order you to do anything. When you are here, your duties to her are the same as they were with me.

“Derrick has long neglected the needs of the females of this pride. They hunger for something more than what many of them are getting. They need a purpose beyond household duties, especially the Alpha females. That is what you will be handling when you are home, Anise. All issues regarding the females will be forwarded to you. You know better than I what it is like to be under Derrick’s thumb. If there are abuse allegations, those will be directed to me. I will be the final judge on those cases, understand?”

“Yes, Tor,” they replied in unison.

“Good. Thank you, Yara for your assistance while I was absent. We’ll meet up later to solidify everything.”

Taking it for the dismissal it was, Yara bowed slightly and said, “Yes, Tor.”

“Thank you, Tor,” Anise said as soon as the door closed behind Yara.

Omar moved too fast for her to track his intent. He had her pinned to the wall, a picture hanging on the wall biting into her shoulder as he pressed himself against her. She quickly forgot the annoying pain as his copper-colored eyes traced over her features, devouring her under his greedy gaze. He seemed content to just stare at her, appreciating the way their bodies melded together because for the longest moment he just held her gaze, telling her without words how much he wanted her.

His hands framed her face, holding her still as he joined his lips to hers. She moaned at the gentle contact, her hands tracing up his back against the soft material of his t-shirt.

Omar took his time with their first kiss, savoring it in a way that made her impatient, but he silenced her growing agitation by lightly stroking his tongue against her mouth, gaining entry when she sighed. A shudder ran through her when his hand grabbed a fistful of her hair, claiming her like he’d waited a lifetime to do so.

With the Blue Oconee wedding and her initial aversion to him because of the fear she had for her son’s safety keeping them apart, she understood the intensity of the kiss. She clamored for more, pulling him closer, her heart racing when he growled his desire into her mouth.

If Omar did everything as passionately as he kissed her, she’d never have to worry about an unsatisfactory sex life.

He broke the kiss and bracketed his arms around her. “There.”

“There?”

“You are mine, so it’s about fucking time I kissed you.”

The most embarrassing girly giggle slipped out before she could stop it. “That’s all you wanted?”

“No, but you already know that.”

“I don’t think I do.”

He flashed a wry smile before he slipped his hand under her shirt and grazed his nimble fingers against the cute, but practical breastfeeding bra she wore.

“One day, when your body is ready, I’ll show you just what I want, Anise. I’ll warn you now. Once I have you, there isn’t a way out.”

“There’s a way out now?”

“You can tell me no now. I’ll respect your answer. However, you’ll remain here as my Soul’s Mate. Sorry, but I’m not going insane just because you want to leave.”

“I’m not saying no, Tor.”

“Call me Omar.”