by Amy Pennza
She resisted the urge to toss the mug at the window. “I don’t want it.”
“Then put it down. We’re leaving.” He turned and set his own mug on the floor. When he straightened, his face was a stern mask she recognized.
The Alpha was back.
“My power is still up,” he said quietly. “Don’t make me order you, Haley.”
Her temper flared. “Are you crazy? In case you haven’t noticed I’m not wearing any clothes!”
He rubbed a hand over his mouth and muttered. “I’ve noticed.”
Heat blossomed between her legs. Because her body was stupid.
His nostrils flared, and for a second desire arced between them. Then he seemed to shake himself.
“Here.” He removed his jacket and held it out. “Put this on for now. I’ll look for clothing in the bedrooms.”
Arguments huddled in her mind. How could he be so certain no one searched for them? Wasn’t it better to stay in a safe place? At least they had a fire. And there was six feet of hydration sitting outside.
He kept his arm extended, his expression daring her to refuse. Jaw clenched, she set her mug down and took the jacket. Then she raised her arms and let the blanket drop to the ground. She stood proud in the morning light, her chin lifted in a subtle challenge. Cool air touched her skin, and her nipples tightened.
His gaze lingered on her chest. Then he compressed his lips in a thin line and turned away. As he did, a flash of red caught her eye.
“You’re bleeding.” She went toward him, intent on getting a closer look.
He swung around so fast she stopped. “It’s nothing. Just a scratch from that thorn last night.”
Last night? There was far too much blood for a mere scratch. “Shouldn’t you have healed by now?”
“I moved around a lot. It probably reopened.”
“It was just a thorn, though.”
“It’s fine.”
She started toward him again. “Let me take a look.”
His growl bounced off the glass. “NO.”
Shock made her freeze, her heart pounding at the ferocity of his response.
He seemed to reign in his anger, but his voice stayed hard. “I said I’m fine. Now put on the jacket like I asked.”
She opened her mouth, ready to tell him exactly where he could stick his jacket, when he jerked his head toward the doors, his posture rigid.
“Bard, what—”
He motioned for silence, his attention on the snow outside.
She followed his gaze. Then she heard it—a low buzzing sound, as if a giant bee approached. Before she could puzzle it out, two sets of headlights appeared.
Snowmobiles.
Hope surged in her chest. They were getting rescued! She scrambled into the jacket and zipped it to her chin. Then she hovered at his side, excitement bubbling like champagne in her veins. “See? I told you the pack would search for us.”
He didn’t answer. He just stared as the snowmobiles approached, an eerie stillness falling over him.
The little hairs on her nape lifted. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask what was wrong but the words died in her mouth.
Deep in her mind, her wolf sat up.
The whine of the snowmobiles’ engines grew louder. Their headlights shone through the glass, bouncing wildly as the vehicles went over ridges in the snow. As they neared, some of her apprehension faded.
“It’s Glenna and Ben Rupert.” But there was a third person seated behind Ben, her hair waving in the wind like a dark flag. “And Sabine.”
Bard rounded on her so fast she jumped. His face was white, his scars drained of color. “How do you know Sabine?”
“I—”
His arm shot out, and he grabbed her shoulder. His mouth twisted, his expression as terrifying as it had been the night he collected her from the airfield. His grip tightened, and he shook her. “Answer me!”
Shock made her stammer. “I m-met her at the Ruperts’ cafe.”
“Did she say anything to you? Threaten you?”
“What?”
Light flooded the conservatory as Ben and Glenna pulled the snowmobiles almost to the glass doors. Haley winced, putting up her free hand to shield her vision.
Bard released her and turned to the doors. The trio dismounted, and Glenna gave a friendly wave. She bent over her machine and retrieved a small, white box, then motioned to Ben and Sabine.
Heart racing from Bard’s attack, Haley stood stiffly as the three approached. They were dressed for the weather in tight-fitting snow pants and ski jackets. No one wore a helmet, but that didn’t surprise her. A snowmobile accident was unlikely to kill a werewolf.
Sabine was vulnerable, though. As a latent, she wasn’t as strong as a pureblooded wolf.
The three of them reached the door just as Bard opened it and stepped back.
Glenna entered first, shooting Haley a bright smile. “Hey there, birthday girl!” She held out the box. “Sabine and I whipped this up early this morning.”
“It’s a cake,” Sabine said in her low, sultry voice. Her curtain of glossy hair fell down her back in a smooth sheet, and her cheeks were pink from the cold. She moved toward the bath and peeked over the edge.
Haley forced her eyes away from the dark-haired woman, her gaze landing on the bakery box. She’d forgotten about her birthday. She was twenty-one years old. The whiskey from her coffee still burned her throat. At least now she could say she consumed it legally.
Ben moved, catching her gaze. He darted a look at Bard, his expression almost nervous.
Guilt twinged inside her. She’d forgotten about him, too.
Of course, she’d been a little busy.
“Ben?” Glenna raised her voice, her eyes on her son. “Aren’t you going to wish Haley a happy birthday?”
Ben looked at Haley, but he didn’t share his mother’s cheeriness. “Happy birthday.” He rubbed the side of his neck, as if he was still bitter about the night before.
Glenna smiled and turned to Haley, her eyes bright. Her voice was just a little too loud as she asked, “Any special plans for today?”
Goosebumps formed on Haley’s arms, and she suppressed a shiver. The atmosphere was unsettling. She and Bard had been missing all night and they brought a cake? Sam and Joel were dead, and Glenna wanted to know if she had special plans?
And why hadn’t Bard said anything? She looked around for him, ready to pull him into the conversation. When she found him, anxiety prickled down her spine. In the time she’d spoken to Glenna and Ben, he moved near the bath and now he just stood there, jaw tight, his hands in fists at his sides. He stared at Sabine, his face an emotionless mask.
Except for his eye. Emotion burned there, but she couldn’t quite identify it. Whatever it was, it was intense.
The unsettling feeling ratcheted up.
Glenna gave the box a little shake, drawing Haley’s attention. “Aren’t you going to take it?” There was an odd edge in her voice—impatience but also anger.
Good manners made Haley lurch forward and accept the box. “Thanks.” Now what the hell was she supposed to do? Hang streamers and balloons? She wasn’t even wearing underwear.
Ben cleared his throat. “We should go, Mom.”
“Not just yet,” Glenna said without taking her eyes off Haley.
Ben shot another nervous glance at Bard. “You said we were just dropping off the cake and going home.”
Okay, things were getting too weird. Haley shifted the box under one arm and turned to Ben. “Do you guys think you could give us a ride back to town?”
“Ben is a better choice, you know,” Glenna said loudly, talking as if Haley hadn’t spoken.
Haley froze. Was that was this was about? Glenna was angry she hadn’t made a love match with Ben?
“Mom.” Ben’s voice was equal parts embarrassed and afraid.
Smart. Glenna was scary. And something told Haley she wouldn’t hesitate to smack down her own son if it meant grabbing power
.
Haley swung her gaze to Bard, who still watched Sabine. He said nothing, just stared at the dark-haired woman, the intense emotion still burning in his eye. For her part, Sabine seemed oblivious, her almond-shaped eyes on Glenna as Bard watched her with absolute—
Hatred.
The realization hit Haley like a slap.
Bard hated Sabine.
“He has a rare Gift.” Glenna’s sharp voice intruded, pulling Haley’s attention back to her.
“I’m sorry, what?”
Glenna narrowed her hazel eyes. “Beggars can’t be choosers, Haley. You won’t do any better.”
“Mom,” Ben said.
“Shut up, Benjamin.”
Haley almost choked on outrage. Unbelievable. This woman was still playing matchmaker?
Also, beggars?
She mustered as much politeness as she could. “I’m not really interested in a relationship right now.” And even if I was madly in love with your son, I’d commit to a life of celibacy before having you as a mother-in-law.
“Oh, really?” Glenna dropped her gaze to Haley’s bare legs, and her eyes glinted. She inhaled a slow, deliberate breath. Then she met Haley’s stare. Her lips curved in a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Getting to know our Alpha better, are we?” She tipped her head to the side, her blond ponytail swinging. “He’ll never mate you. I hope you know that.”
Humiliation washed over Haley, and she resisted the urge to tug the jacket down her thighs. Of course they all knew what she and Bard had done. They could smell it. Did they think she made a play for the Alpha? She couldn’t help but look at Bard. Why didn’t he shut Glenna down? But still he said nothing, his gaze locked on Sabine.
Haley lifted her chin. No matter. She was used to doing things on her own. “I don’t want to mate him.”
“That’s fortunate,” Glenna snapped. She tossed Bard a scathing look. “Because we don’t do matings in Elder Lake. Our Alpha won’t allow it.”
“Mom.” Ben’s voice took on a new urgency.
Glenna continued, her tone dripping acid. “No matings or births in ten years.” Her eyes lightened, and her voice fell an octave. “All because Bard Bennett refuses to let this territory thrive.”
Ben moved to his mother’s side and tried to take her arm. “Let’s go.”
She shrugged him off then swung toward Bard, her voice wavering between human and beast. “You have failed us! You’ve failed this territory!”
Somewhere in the conservatory glass shattered.
Haley jumped and looked around wildly. The stupid cake box was still under her arm. She tossed it on the ground.
“You are not your father, Bard Bennett!” Glenna advanced on Bard, but he didn’t even look at her.
Haley’s heart raced. Sweat dripped down her back. Things were happening too fast. She started toward Bard.
More glass shattered, this time overhead.
She stopped and ducked.
Ben pulled at his mother’s sleeve.
She rounded on him, her eyes wholly Turned, the irises so otherworldly blue they cast shadows on her face. “You should do it. Challenge him!”
“What?” Ben recoiled. “Mom, no.”
Haley’s heart jumped into her throat. Her suspicions were right. Glenna wanted to unseat Bard.
So why the hell was he just standing there?
“Yes!” Glenna gripped Ben by both lapels, nearly lifting him off his feet. Rage emanated from her small body, and her eyes blazed blue fire. “We have served too long. You were born to rule!”
Ben grabbed her wrists. “I don’t want it!”
“Challenge him!”
“No!”
In the distance, more glass shattered.
Glenna drew in a deep breath. “If you won’t, then I—”
“Stop.”
The word, spoken by Sabine, echoed around them, the single syllable rippling with power.
Instantly, Glenna and Ben ceased their struggle, their arms falling to their sides.
Bard gasped like he just emerged from a long time underwater, his chest rising and falling in jerky movements.
For a second, a high-pitched whine filled Haley’s ears, the sound so sharp she squeezed her eyes shut. As quickly as it came, it stopped. She opened her eyes and looked around at the others, but they didn’t seem to have heard it.
Fists still clenched, Bard turned a hate-filled look on Sabine. He seemed to catch his breath, but his voice was hoarse, as if he hadn’t used it in a long time. “You’re not supposed to come here.”
In response, Sabine lifted a slender shoulder.
Bard growled low in his throat. “You have no authority over me and mine. Leave.”
“Circumstances change, wolf.”
Haley looked between them, her mind whirling. What were they talking about? Latents often stayed away from pureblooded werewolves. Ben said Sabine chose to do so. But the idea of a latent having authority over an Alpha was laughable.
Without breaking eye contact with Bard, Sabine raised a hand and pointed directly at Glenna. “This one would issue a challenge.”
Bard kept his gaze on Sabine. “He won’t win, Glenna. You know that.”
Glenna frowned. For a second, she looked hopelessly confused, as if she struggled to remember something important. Then her expression cleared. She glanced at Ben. “He would do a better job.”
Ben glowered at her. “I don’t want to be Alpha.”
Bard’s scarred mouth lifted in a bitter smile as he faced off with Sabine. “It holds, then. Go.”
She returned his smile. “You think to outsmart me.” In a blink, she dropped the smile and her voice went flat. “You will fail, you will lose, and you will die.”
Haley held her breath as alarm sirens blared in her head. Out of nowhere, Joel’s pale, ravaged face flashed in her mind. Snow and dead leaves surrounded his head, and his bloodied lips whispered a single word. “Danger.”
Bard leaned toward Sabine and hissed, “That’s the plan.”
Haley’s stomach dropped. The way Bard said it, he wanted to die.
She couldn’t bear it if that happened.
The knowledge struck like an arrow thwacking its target, the thud of it hitting her brain and reverberating through the rest of her body. At the exact same moment, the rose stained glass window exploded.
Haley ducked and threw both arms over her head. Glass pelted her hair and the sleeves of Bard’s coat, raining over the conservatory in a million pieces. It hit the ground all around her, scattering the tile with rose-colored shards.
It was still falling when an inhuman growl ripped through the conservatory.
Haley whipped her arms from her head just in time to see Glenna lunge at Bard, her fangs bared, the tendons in her neck straining as she screamed, “YOU ARE UNWORTHY AS AN ALPHA. I CHALLENGE YOU!”
Things seemed to happen in slow motion.
Bard staggered back, his bad leg collapsing under him.
He went down.
Ben jumped in front of his mother, knocking her away from Bard with a punch to her shoulder.
She went airborne, slammed into the wall of roses, and hit the ground. She stayed still, her eyes closed.
For a second, Haley was too stunned to move. Then she sprang into action, racing across the tile toward Bard. Glass crunched under her bare feet, but she didn’t care. She reached his side and fell to her knees.
“Are you all right?” She grabbed his face in both hands and searched his face. “Are you hurt?”
He gasped. “Haley.” His hand brushed her side, then moved up to hair that had fallen over her shoulder. “Go . . .” He seemed to struggle for air. “You have to go.”
“Shut up.” Tears dripped down her face, which was dumb. His leg was acting up. He wasn’t dying. “I’m not going anywhere. Haven’t you figured that out by now?”
He smiled, the scarred side of his mouth pulling up. “I’ve figured out there’s no arguing with you.”
A laugh escaped her, and she wiped at some of her tears that had fallen on his face. “That’s exactly right.”
His fingers found her cheek. “Beautiful,” he whispered, his good eye intense as he looked at her. “And so easy to love.”
Her heart leapt. Was he saying what she thought he was saying?
But there was time for that later. They had all the time in the world.
“Here,” she said, putting her hands on his shoulders. “Let me help you up.” As she tried to pull him onto his side, he cried out, his voice pitched low in anguish.
She yanked her hand back. Her palm was covered in blood.
Panic gripped her in icy claws. “Bard?”
His eyes were closed, his breaths shallow.
“Help!” She patted at his chest, her hands shaking. She didn’t know what to do. What should she do?
Glass crunched and then Ben was on Bard’s other side, his face pale and his hazel eyes stark as he regarded his Alpha.
“He’s bleeding,” she told him. “There was a thorn, but—”
“It’s coming from underneath,” Ben said. Without preamble, he rolled Bard to his side. “Jesus.”
Blood soaked Bard’s back from his neck to his waist. A shard of rose-colored glass protruded from his shoulder. The piece was long and thick, the visible end poking from his muscle like the tip of an iceberg. It was in the same spot the thorn had lodged.
For a second, Haley could only stare. Blood was everywhere. It puddled on the floor under his body and even coated the back of his head, red staining the silver in his hair. But he only just fell. How could there be so much blood?
“This isn’t normal,” Haley couldn’t help but wonder out loud as blood continued to pump from the wound. “Glass shouldn’t do this much damage to a werewolf.” She looked up at Ben. “Should it?”
“No, but . . .” He gazed at Bard’s face, his expression the same as Glenna’s a moment before—like he struggled to make sense of something deeply puzzling. “His scars . . . I don’t understand . . .”
Goosebumps formed on Haley’s arms, the unsettled feeling washing over her even more intensely. It was like being in wolf form and having her fur brushed the wrong way.
But there was no time to analyze it now. Werewolf or no, Bard couldn’t survive catastrophic blood loss.