~*~
“She was terrified,” Tyler whispers.
Chase pets his hair and presses a kiss to his forehead. “You’re kind intimidating as a wolf, big guy. But don't worry—she’ll come around. They all will.”
Tyler stares at him, curious. “You really believe that.”
Chase nods, his expression quiet and peaceful. “Yeah. I do.”
~*~
Ezra comes back first, his face bruised and his lip bleeding. He stands at the front door to the Pack house only a few weeks after the werewolf reveal. Chase stands at Tyler’s side while Lucas touches the boy’s lip and says, his voice deadly sweet, “Was it your father?”
Ezra flinches away, his head ducking, and Chase makes a sharp noise that makes Lucas step back.
“I went over to see him, and—he just—I made him mad—” Ezra chokes off, then takes a gasping breath. “Will—I’ll be stronger, if I do this?”
Tyler nods and glances at the Left Hand. “But Ezra—you don’t have to. If you’re only doing it to be strong, to be safe—”
“Your father won’t touch you again, pup,” Lucas says, voice remarkably even.
It steadies Ezra, makes his stiffness ease and his head come up. “It’s not the only reason.”
Some of the tension drains out of Tyler and Chase grins as he tugs Ezra in, brushing Lucas aside, and says, “Great. Good. So we have a spare room and you can use it until Joseph and Jessica decide what they’re doing.” He tosses over his shoulder casually, “Lucas, no killing. Dad will be pissed if he has to do paperwork.”
There’s a clear smile and affection in Lucas’s voice. “I know, pup. I know.”
~*~
The other two come, on their own terms and in their own time. Having Ezra close and training with them helps settle some of Tyler’s nerves, and he trusts Chase more when he says confidently, “They’ll come, Ty, trust me.”
It takes time—two more weeks for Joseph and a whole month for Jessica—but eventually, they do.
Chase looks at them sitting in the Pack house, wary but resolute, and nods. “I’ll call Lewis.”
~*~
Tyler holds Chase in their bed the night before, too aware of the very human heartbeats in the house, of the Lewis Alpha in their territory, of Chase’s magic burning against his tattoos. The boy is sleepy and limp against his chest, fucked out and smiling, and Tyler asks before he can talk himself out of it. “Have you ever thought of it? Of taking the Bite?”
Chase blinks up at him. “Of course, dude. I’ve been hanging out with werewolves since I was fucking fourteen. Yeah, I’ve thought about it.”
Tyler bites his lip and looks away. Chase hasn’t mentioned actually wanting it, hasn’t mentioned taking the Bite, even if he has thought of it.
“Tyler,” Chase says, sitting up. “I like being human. And I love you, love what you and Lucas are—but I don’t need to be that to be strong, or useful, or Pack.” He pauses. “Do you want me to be a ‘wolf?”
“I want you to be happy,” Tyler says immediately, “I don’t—I don’t care what you are, as long as you’re here and you’re happy.”
Chase smiles and kisses him softly. “I am, baby. I promise.”
~*~
In June, as the moon rises full and shining overhead, Chase walks through the woods, a black wolf and a grey wolf on either side of him, as three wolves—lean, blonde Ezra, small, sable Jessica, Joseph huge and black—fight and run around them, and the Pack bonds he used to tie the wolves to the Reid Pack shine so bright he thinks, for just a moment, that he can see them.
Stephen walks, in human form, with him, with only red gleaming eyes and his fangs just slightly lengthened.
“They’re doing wonderful,” he says, a tiny bit proud, but far more admiring than anything else.
“It helped that they had so much time to prepare,” Chase says, “And solid anchors before the Bite.”
“And a powerful mage to tie them to the Pack,” Stephen says.
Chase shrugs. “Doesn’t hurt, no.”
Stephen laughs and Tyler flicks an ear toward him.
“Will you add more?”
Chase watches the new Pack members and shakes his head. “No. I don’t think so. Not right now.”
“Well, you can call when you change your mind.”
Chase nods his thanks, fidgeting anxiously as they near the Standing Stones. He can feel them thrumming against his skin, the power and vitality of them humming in his veins, and he gives Stephen a brief smile before he darts away. Lucas howls, chasing him as magic flares around the Pack, a whitewash of it that blinds him briefly and welcomes him home.
~*~
Near the end of August, they go to a local bookstore while the pups are working. Lucas and Chase are arguing over a poetry book while Tyler browses through autobiographies, when he stiffens, his head snapping up and a low growl rumbling in his throat. Chase glances at him, and then—
Oh.
The man—werewolf—approaching them is dressed in linen and cream, skin tan and almost offensively good looking, with shining blue eyes, an even white smile, and the kind of cocky arrogance that reminds Chase of the worst kind of frat boys.
He touches Tyler’s shoulder and glances at the werewolf.
“Well, you aren’t here to cause trouble,” he says.
Lucas laughs. “That’s exactly what you’re here for, isn’t it, Tripp?”
Chase stares as Tripp shrugs. “Just thought it was time we had a talk—heard some interesting rumors about the recent Pack expansion. Seemed a little overdue to find out exactly what you’re doing out here.”
“One day,” Lucas muses, “I’ll find your spy and I’ll send you their entrails in a pretty box.”
Tripp grins sharply, the first hint of ‘wolf peeking through that too polished demeanor. “You do that, Lucas. In the meantime, answer my questions. What are you doing?”
“Why do you care?” Chase asks curiously, and Tripp smiles, like he’s done an especially impressive trick.
“Oh, kid. And to think the entire East Coast is terrified of you.” He shakes his head.
Tyler says woodenly, “This is Tripp Cahil, Alpha Heir to the Cahil Pack. He’s Chelsea’s fiance.”
Tripp looks absurdly pleased by Tyler’s recognition.
Chase huffs and gathers up his books. “Well, no offense, dude, but fuck off. We have one Alpha more than we want.”
Cahil catches his arm and Lucas snarls, loud and wet enough that the woman walking past meeps and scurries a little faster. Chase forces his magic down and lets himself hang from the ‘wolf’s painful grasp.
“She’s mine, kid. Which means you? Your pathetic Pack? Harrisburg? All mine.”
Chase smiles. “Yeah? Well, she isn’t mine. But if you want us, if you want our territory? Then come and take it. Others have tried and we’re still fucking here.”
Cahil snarls and Lucas moves, pushing him into the bookshelf. Chase lets Tyler rip Cahil’s arm off him and pull him away, lets Lucas herd them to the car, cursing low and furious under his breath.
He wishes he felt angry. He doesn’t, not really. He just squeezes Tyler’s hand and breathes. “We always knew this was going to come, that the Cahils would force Chelsea’s hand,” Chase says.
Lucas glares. “We still don’t have a way to move your bond to a different Alpha,” he snaps. “So excuse me for being a little upset.”
Chase sighs and squeezes Tyler’s hand absentmindedly. “Whatever makes you happy, big bad.” Lucas spits a curse at him that makes Tyler growl.
Chase listens absently while he watches the city slip by, wondering how long they have.
Chapter 26
Chase always knew they were living on borrowed time, that eventually, Chelsea would call her betas home, or she’d return to Harrisburg to claim what was hers. He knew that, even as he bound himself to the Reid Pack as Shaman, to their territory as the scion of some magic fucking Stones. He knew, saw the writing on the wall, and
he did it anyway, because as much as he loathed the idea of serving Chelsea, he hated the idea of leaving Tyler and Lucas more.
He isn’t surprised, really, by anything more than how long they had before Chelsea came to call.
~*~
Tyler bakes when he’s stressed, because Chase forbade him from doing any more projects on the house after the third expansion. Jessica joins him more often than not these days, because she’s good at it and because it’s the only time she gets to spend with Tyler when the betas and Chase aren’t also vying for his attention.
“What’s wrong?”
Tyler shakes his head and sprinkles some blueberries into the loaf he’s making. “Chase will explain it,” he says shortly.
Jessica bites her lip but doesn’t argue, just finishes the lemon poppyseed muffins and leans into him when he brushes past her.
The Pack is gathered in the living room, Lucas sprawled in his chair with Aurora tucked into his side, her fingers curled around the nape of his neck while Ezra and Joseph sit on the floor under the picture window. Chase is sitting cross-legged on the couch, phone in his hand, playing a game. He curses as he drops it in his lap and Tyler sits next to him.
“The Cahils came to town,” he announces without any preamble, and Jessica pauses.
“Should that mean something to us?” Ezra asks.
“The Cahils are the Pack that gave Chelsea sanctuary in New York. Their Alpha heir is engaged to her,” Lucas offers lazily.
“So if they have territory in New York, why are they here?”
Chase shrugs. “Because Chelsea’s Pack is here. Because we expanded and we have a reputation, because I’m the Shaman and stronger than most, or maybe because they’ve always planned this? Take your pick. Why doesn’t really matter—that they did does.”
“We’re strengthening the wards around our territory and the Pack house. If you want the same on your family homes, let Chase know and he’ll make that happen. We move in pairs, always. We stay safe. Cahil is gone right now, but he’ll come back, and if we’re threatening Chelsea’s cozy little life, she’ll lash out,” Tyler says seriously.
“You’re strong enough to stop her,” Jessica says, looking at Chase. “So why let it get to that?”
Chase shrug again. “I won’t kill Tyler and Lucas’s only living relative. And like it or not, I‘m bound to the Reid Alpha. I could kill her, but it won’t solve anything if we don’t know who’ll replace her.”
“And if it comes to a fight?”
Chase takes a deep breath. “If it comes to a fight, we fight. But none of you can kill the Cahil Alpha. Do you understand? If you do, you won’t belong to the Reid Pack.”
Chase wants to say, you won’t be mine.
Watching Lucas, he knows that he at least understands.
~*~
Lucas is sitting in his bedroom at his father’s home when Chase slips in, his expression shuttered.
“Kinda late,” Chase says, and Lucas shrugs. He’s watching the Shaman, and Chase busies himself for a moment, stripping off his flannel and emptying his pockets before he finally turns to the werewolf.
The thing is, Lucas spent years in a comatose state, years where Chase was growing up and taking care of him, telling him every secret he couldn’t tell anyone else. Lucas knows him, knows the devious working of his brain, and he knows damn well that Chase is planning something.
“Are you going to tell me?”
Chase shrugs. “There’s not a lot of options. I’m bound by blood and magic to the Reid Alpha, and there’s no way to transfer that bond without killing her. You know it and I do.”
“I could do it, before she comes here,” Lucas says, serious. He could. It wouldn’t be difficult. He’s killed witches and monsters. One spoiled arrogant Alpha would be nothing.
“She’s your sister, Lucas—the only family you have left beyond Tyler,” Chase says softly.
“You are my family,” Lucas snarls, “Aurora and the pups. Chelsea—”
“Chelsea ran because she was a hurt, scared child made Alpha far too soon,” Chase says, “She fucked up, Lucas, I know she did, but I still don’t want that blood on your hands. Not when there is so little of it left. Not even if they were all still here—you don’t need to live with killing your sister.”
Lucas stares at him. “Do you have a plan?”
Chase gives him a cocky smile. “Lucas, come on. It’s me.”
“I suppose you won’t tell me what it is.”
Chase shrugs. “Chelsea doesn’t want Harrisburg. So we make sure that the Cahils know that Harrisburg is more trouble than it’s worth.”
Lucas smiles then.
Chase’s gaze is cold and steady. “The Cahil Pack—them, you can kill.”
~*~
Chase secludes himself in the Pack house, kicks the pups and Tyler out while he works. Lucas stays, because while he hates when Chase bleeds and reeks of pain, he doesn’t protest. He just stays nearby, reading and researching, taking care of Chase when the Shaman forgets to eat or drink, bandaging his hand every time the boy slices it open to seal the wards.
The only time he makes a protesting noise, a tiny helpless growl rumbling out of him, is when Chase prepares the ink and blood and ash, when he readies the sharp silver needle and lines the metal tube up against his skin.
“You don’t have to stay,” Chase says.
“What do they do?”
Chase pauses. “Each ward will be buried in the ground of their homes and workplaces. They’ll repel anyone with ill intent, anyone supernatural that is not our Pack or ally.”Lucas nods, and Chase adds carefully, “And these—” He touches the small identical black disks of wood, streaked with blood and burns. “—will attack anyone who attacks those wearing it. Returns the damage, threefold.”
Lucas’s eyes glitter as he touches the bowl of spelled ink. “And the tattoos?”
“The wards won’t last unless I continue to renew them. The runes tie them to my spark and the power the Standing Stones gives me.”
Lucas’s eyes narrow. Chase stares at him, waiting.
He hasn’t told Tyler, and he won’t. The werewolf would burn the wards, let the Pack meet any and every threat with no advantage if he thought Chase could hurt himself protecting them.
“This is my job,” Chase says, watching Lucas. “I’m the Reid Shaman and shamans protect their Pack.”
Lucas nods and says, “Will it hurt the spell if I take your pain?”
Chase laughs a wobbly noise and shrugs. “I don’t know, and we’re not going to risk it.”
Lucas huffs, but nods again and settles across from Chase as he begins the long tattooing process.
~*~
Chase slips into Harper’s backyard. He’s known the man long enough that he isn’t surprised to find him in his garden, surrounded by foxglove, wolfsbane, and belladonna.
Harper looks just as unsurprised to see him.
“There’s a threat coming,” Chase says, “I’m binding myself to the Standing Stones.”
Harper straightens, hands braced on his knees. “You did that. You renew your bindings every year.”
“No—I’m doing the permanent binding. I—” He looks away and takes a breath.
“Chase, you know the cost,” Harper says gently.
He laughs and nods. “Yeah, Harper, I know. But I need to be able to protect my Pack from the Cahils and they’re coming. What do you suggest I do? Cede the land to them?”
Harper is watching him with that familiar look, a mix of distrust, pity, and the tiniest bit of awe, like he can’t quite fathom someone like Chase.
“I—-this is for you,” Chase says, thrusting the black disk at the druid. For good or ill, Harper once stood with the Reid Pack and trained Chase when he was an idiot playing with something so much bigger than he could understand.
He won’t leave without at least offering protection.
Harper stares at it for a long moment, then the runes snaking up his arm, the ones that too
k him twelve hours and Lucas’s assistance to complete.
“Thank you for your gift and protection, Shaman Reid,” Harper says formally, tipping his head to one side and exposing his throat as he accepts the charm.
Chase blinks and nods. He takes a couple steps backward toward the still open gate and says, “Be careful, Harper.”
He’s almost out of the yard when he hears Harper murmur, “You as well, Chase.”
~*~
He dreams.
The woods are alive, and he picks his way through it, listening to the animals in the underbrush, the heartbeat of the land a slow, sonorous thing under his bare feet.
He can hear the heartbeats of rabbits and mice, the quiet rasp of a squirrel scuttling around in its nest, the impossibly quiet sound of a flower slowly opening to the shining moon. He can hear the wolves he calls his own howling, triumphant and happy and whole.
He can hear the Standing Stones whispering an elusive song that calls him closer, begs him for more, for everything, and he wants to give in, wants to slit his wrists and bleed on the Stones as their magic sinks into him, sings through him, fills him up where his life’s blood should flow.
He wants it, and the sentient Stones sing, mine mine mine.
And Tyler is pressing against his knees, pushing him back a stumbling step, snarling possessively, furious and protective, because Chase is claimed, has been claimed long before the Standing Stones called to him.
Chase leans into his wolf’s bristling fur, breathing him in until he can only hear the familiar pounding of his heart and the thrum of his blood in his veins.
~*~
The first attack comes on a cold day in the fall while Chase is leaning against Tyler’s chest, listening to him read. It’s a calm, quiet day, the sounds of Tyler’s low voice lulling him into a sense of contentment.
Then, sharp and sudden, pain sears through him. He screams.
He can hear Lucas shouting, recognizes Tyler’s hands pressing against him, grounding him, but all he can feel is pain, his arm burning, and he gasps, reaching for it, ripping the sleeve up in his haste.
“Jessica,” Lucas snarls, scrambling away before Chase can put together words, and he shoves Tyler.
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