A Pack of Love and Hate

by Olivia Wildenstein

  “I’ve been around enough people like him.”

  The tether trembled between us as he hunted my expression. I realized he was trying to gauge my reaction to the chain of events Aidan’s death would set in motion. I was scared—we weren’t ready to face the Creeks—but I was also grateful that justice had finally been served. I caught the balled fist resting against his thigh and spread his stiff fingers with my own.

  “August is right. They’d already be here if he’d called them,” Cole added.

  Liam backed away. “Burn the place down,” he said before shifting back into fur.

  He craned his neck and watched me through his yellow eyes. Let’s hope they’ll believe Lucy did all this on her own. Cole, phone Rodrigo. Tell him to stall the firetrucks as long as he can. He swung around. Keep your phone on, Ness. I’m going to try and do some damage control. In case I can’t . . .

  He let his voice trail off, but I heard all the absent words.

  In case he couldn’t talk sense into the Creeks, we’d be at their mercy.

  42

  I tugged on August’s hand, trying to dislodge him from where he stood beside Cole, watching the fire devour Aidan’s mansion. They’d splashed a variety of chemicals throughout the house, over the expensive drapes framing his large windows, over the wooden furniture. The flames skipped around the trails of flammable liquids, growing rabid.

  I heard Aidan’s hounds howl. I’d broken the window of the study in which he or Lucy had locked them, hoping they’d find their way out. I hadn’t dared open the door, afraid their master had trained them to scent Boulder blood and attack.

  “We need to go,” Cole said, heading to his navy sedan.

  August got in the back with me, his arm wound tight around my shoulders.

  “I’m glad he’s dead,” I whispered so he’d stop torturing himself.

  “It was the right call,” Cole said as he sped down the darkened roads toward the warehouse.

  Grunting, August set his attention on the moonless sky. Even the stars seemed darker tonight. At some point, he squeezed the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, so I cupped his jaw.

  “Look at me,” I said.

  He did.

  “My aunt fled. After cozying up to him, she fled. They’ll connect the dots and blame her.”

  “What if they don’t, Dimples? What if they don’t?”

  “We were going to duel them anyway. It was a matter of days.”

  He made a low growly sound in the back of his throat and punched the headrest of the empty passenger seat. “We don’t even know the outcome of the Sillin injection. What if that’s not Morgan’s trick?”

  “Maybe Sarah found out something.”

  “Sarah?” Cole asked. “I thought she’d turned to the dark side.”

  Of course he’d think this. “I know that’s what Liam and Lucas think, but I don’t.”

  Cole’s gaze flashed to mine in the rearview mirror. “She set us up to help her new pack steal the Sillin.”

  When August frowned, I recapped all that had happened, from the concealed missive inside my birthday present to the theft.

  “Why didn’t you tell me before?” he asked.

  “Because I didn’t want to worry you,” I mumbled.

  He twisted around on the seat to peer down at me. “It wouldn’t have worried me. What worries me is you carrying the weight of this on your own.” He pushed a lock of hair off my face. “I’m here for you.”

  He’d always been there for me.

  I attempted a smile but failed miserably. He settled back against the seat and pulled me into him.

  “Cole, can you get in touch with her?” I asked, my voice cracking around each word, as though the knife had damaged my vocal cords.

  He scrutinized me a long minute before offering, “I can message her from a remote number when I get home. What do you want to know?”

  “If she’s all right.” I wish I’d thought of asking Lucy.

  I took my phone out of my pocket and dialed Jeb. His phone didn’t even ring, which made me think he’d turned it off. Or maybe he’d tossed it so he couldn’t be tracked.

  “And if maybe”—I flipped my phone around, then flipped it again—“if maybe she found out how they’re planning on using the Sillin.”

  He nodded.

  Everything had gone from bad to shit so quickly, and yet, I feared we hadn’t reached rock bottom.

  Soon, Cole was pulling in next to the warehouse. “I’ll call you if I get news.”

  “Okay,” I said, scooting out after August. As Cole drove off, August wrapped his arm around my waist, and together, we walked toward his front door.

  He punched in his code, and the door beeped open. After he entered, he let go of me and paced while I turned the lights on.

  “Let’s go away. You and me,” he said suddenly. “We can leave tonight.”

  “August, I can’t leave.”

  “So you want to see Liam die?”

  I swallowed. “Liam won’t die.”

  “Ness—”

  “He won’t. He’s stronger than you give him credit for.”

  “Strength won’t help him if she’s cheating!”

  “Don’t yell, August.”

  He dropped into his armchair and cradled his head between his large, blood-soaked hands. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

  I went over to him and placed my palm on his hunched spine. He sighed, long and hard, and then he pulled me into his lap and hugged me, burying his face against my collarbone. After several quiet minutes, he pulled away and leveled his gaze on my injured neck. I probably looked like I’d escaped from the set of a slasher film.

  “Bet this wasn’t quite how you pictured our romantic lakeside evening going,” I said, curling my fingers around the nape of his neck.

  He grunted, and I flicked him. Although it brought a little light to his eyes, it wasn’t nearly enough to disperse the shadows teeming in them.

  I stood up and extended my hand. “Come on. Let’s go wash away all this blood.”

  Exhaling raggedly, he took my hand and rose. On the way to the bathroom, he said, “We need to burn our clothes.”

  Right. Aidan’s blood was all over them.

  August yanked off his shirt, jeans, and briefs, and dumped everything in the kitchen sink. While I unclipped my overalls and pulled off my crop top, he walked over to the wall and used a pole to open two of the hopper windows.

  Even though it was probably not the time to appreciate his naked body, I couldn’t help myself from taking him in.

  “Your underwear too,” he said, coming back toward me.

  “My underwear?”

  “It’ll smell like smoke.”

  Nibbling my lip, I lowered my thong to the ground, then scooped it up and added it to the soiled pile. He grabbed a bottle of vodka from his freezer, doused the fabric, then struck a match and tossed it in. Flames burst to life and spread, consuming the last pieces of the terrible night.

  “Go,” he said. “I’ll keep an eye on the fire until it burns out.”

  Hoping the spectacle would rid him of his lingering anguish, I went into the bathroom and stepped inside the enormous shower.

  Hot water spurted out of the rain-shower nozzle, raced down my hair and over my skin, dragging away the blood and smoke. I closed my eyes and didn’t move for a long moment. How had we gone from playing with paint to arson?

  I touched my sides, felt the white paint that had dried there. Large fingers pressed mine away and curved around my ribs. I opened my eyes but didn’t turn. August reached around me for a bar of green soap that he dragged over my body. He worked the woodsy sandalwood into a lather over my collarbone and shoulders. When his palm coasted up my neck, I cringed, and he gentled his touch. Without saying a single word, he dragged the slick bar over my breasts, then over my stomach, and circled his calloused palm over my soapy skin.

  When his hands drifted lower, I rested my cheek against his shoulder
and closed my eyes again. Sensations rose like steam, curling through my veins, warming my blood, billowing through my stomach, and expanding in my chest. I relaxed against August’s solid chest, my breathing slowing as his fingers moved against me. When his mouth nipped mine, I dragged my heavy lids up and crooked my neck.

  The sable and green eddied as he stared at me, watching . . . waiting.

  Pressure built and swelled everywhere, and then I was soaring over a cliff into a lake full of moon and stars, the wondrous sensation buffing away the horror of my strange world.

  As my body softened, as my moans quieted, he spun me in his arms, my wet skin sliding like silk against his. I hooked my hands around his bent neck and pushed onto my tiptoes, guiding his mouth to mine.

  Our kiss was gentle at first, but soon his lips crushed mine, devouring me the same way the flames had devoured one monstrous Creek.

  43

  The shower had rid August of a layer of stress, which wasn’t to say he was calm. He was anything but. His upheaval worsened when my phone rang, and Liam’s name appeared on the screen.

  I answered the call on speakerphone and sat down on the couch. August wound his arm around me and pulled me close.

  There was rustling, as though Liam were taking off his jacket. “I just came back from the inn.”

  “And?” I asked.

  “And the duel will take place tomorrow evening.”

  August’s fingers flexed on my waist. “She didn’t believe it was Lucy?”

  For a moment, Liam didn’t answer, as though he hadn’t expected me to have company. “Oh, no. She believed it, Watt. Apparently Lori repeatedly warned her mom that Lucy was ill-intentioned.”

  I blinked. “Then why are we fighting them tomorrow?”

  “Because she asked me to call Jeb so he would bring Lucy in, and I refused to sacrifice your aunt.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  Something thumped on his end of the line. A shoe, maybe. “Would you rather I make Jeb bring her in?”

  “No.” Lucy was far from my favorite person, but her courage to avenge her son had changed my opinion of her. Besides, I couldn’t do that to Jeb. A divorce surely hadn’t erased years of tenderness and love.

  Liam sighed. “That’s what I thought. Come over in the morning so we can figure out how to win this damn fight.”

  “Want me to come over now?” Trepidation distorted the sound of my voice.

  “No. I need to think.”

  “Try to sleep,” I whispered.

  “You, too.”

  I didn’t think I could sleep. I didn’t think Liam could either.

  “I’m sorry it took so long for your dad to be avenged, Ness,” Liam said. “I’m sorry I was too much of a coward to do it myself.”

  I swallowed down the ball of emotion rising in my throat. “You’re not a coward.”

  He let out a rattling breath.

  “Liam, when you were at the inn, did you see Sarah?” I asked.

  “No.”

  Worry suspended my breaths for a few heartbeats. “Did you ask them about our Sillin?”

  “I did. They said they took what was theirs.”

  “They took more—”

  “I was in no position to negotiate!”

  His tone made guilt well up inside me.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, a tad less gruffly, and then he hung up.

  August pressed his mouth against my temple. Then, suddenly, he rose and pulled me up. “Go into the kitchen.”

  I frowned. “What? Why?”

  “Because I have an idea.”

  I sniffled. “Okay.”

  While I walked toward one end of the apartment, he went to stand by the other.

  “I’m going to test my reach,” he said.

  My eyebrows jolted up, and then I gasped as my body jerked forward. I caught myself on the island. “That was really . . . strong.”

  His eyes gleamed as he strode toward the front door and extended his hand. “Let’s try it in the warehouse.”

  The T-shirt I’d borrowed from his closet twisted against the tops of my bare thighs as I followed him into the night and into the cavernous building that smelled of sawdust and wood varnish and home.

  After turning on a row of industrial lights, he said, “Stay here,” then padded down one of the aisles. When he reached the farthest shelving unit, he turned and concentrated on me.

  A moment later, I felt a hard tug that had my bare feet shuffling over the cool concrete. Unlike in the apartment, he didn’t let go of his hold. He reeled me in.

  “Dig your heels in, Ness. I want to see how much strength I can exert.”

  “I am digging my heels in,” I called out.

  He pulled my body halfway across the warehouse before slackening his magical grip, and then he strode toward me, a new spring in his step.

  “At least I can keep you safe tomorrow.” He locked his arms around my waist and rested his forehead against mine. “This way, you can concentrate on keeping Liam safe.”

  My thundering pulse beat against the delicate, knitted skin of my neck as his hope enveloped me.

  “Good thing I desire you so much, huh?” Even though his tone was light and no blame limned his words, I couldn’t help but sense his underlying sadness.

  He still believed I didn’t reciprocate the intensity of his feelings.

  After the duel . . . once my mind was clear and my heart didn’t beat with trepidation . . . I’d show him just how much I desired him.

  44

  August and I spent the night lying in his bed, talking about the past, about the present, but not about the future. Whenever he’d venture into the unknown territory of the days ahead, I’d steer the conversation back to the here and now.

  I feared what the next few hours would bring.

  I feared all it might change.

  At some point, I drifted, but a nightmare had me springing awake with a gasp.

  August’s heavy arm anchored me to the warm mattress. When I shivered, he pulled me closer and whispered, “You’re safe, Dimples.”

  Dimples . . . I no longer minded when he called me by his favorite nickname. Perhaps it was the alluring tone with which he spoke the word, or perhaps it was because I no longer doubted how deeply he craved me.

  I turned in his arms. “I should get up. I need clothes. And my car.”

  August combed a lock of hair off my forehead.

  “Your truck’s at my house, too.” Shoot.

  “How about you relax here while I go get one of our cars?”

  “Relax?” I snorted.

  He flicked the tip of my nose.

  “Hey,” I chided him.

  Smiling, he kissed the spot he’d flicked. “You grunted.”

  “You did just tell me to relax.”

  Meaning to be reassuring, he said, “It’ll be over soon.”

  It was the absolute opposite of comforting. His words made my stomach writhe with more nerves; they made my heart thump with more anguish.

  “We should really get going,” I said, scooting out from underneath his arm to crawl off the bed and down the ladder. “Can I borrow a pair of boxers? I feel a little naked.”

  He climbed down the ladder slowly, every muscle in his back roiling alluringly. I’d put on muscle in the past two and a half weeks, but I had nothing on August. Not that I wanted his body. Well, I did, just not—What was I rambling on about?

  I added a pair of boxers underneath the T-shirt that tented around my body, then gathered my phone and bag while he got dressed in his fatigues and an oatmeal Henley that hugged his upper body.

  He leaned over and kissed me. I savored the sweet interlude, sensing that once I walked out August’s front door, there would be no more sweetness to this day.

  He called a cab, which took us back to my house. As the cab bumped up my cracked driveway, I thought about how I needed to get the road fixed, and then I stopped thinking about asphalt and seized up. I must’ve gasped because
August’s attention jerked off the wad of cash he’d taken out of his pocket to pay for our ride. He trailed my line of sight, his jaw hardening when he saw what I was looking at.

  “Whoa. Wild party?” the cabby asked.

  Stuffing a bill into the driver’s hand, August kicked the door open and got out. “Yeah,” he answered gruffly.

  When I still hadn’t moved, he leaned over to pluck the fingers I’d balled into a hard fist and towed me out. I stumbled, because my joints had locked as tight as my knuckles.

  Last night, in our haste, we’d left the front door wide open, and someone—more than one person from the looks of it—had let themselves in.

  Anger fired through me. I ripped my hand from August’s and stalked inside my home. Smells assaulted me—sweet metal, charred dust, sour urine. The white walls had been smeared in blood—deer blood, from the loamy odor of it—and acrid black ash. Puddles of ochre piss glistened on the plastic tarp and browned the baseboards August had so painstakingly painted.

  This was payback for Aidan’s death. The Creeks must’ve seen my uncle working on the house and assumed it was his and Lucy’s.

  “I will kill whoever did this,” I whispered.

  I started down the hallway to inspect the extent of the destruction, but August caught my arm and held me back. “Let’s go.”

  “I want to see—”

  “You’ve seen enough. Let’s go.” When I didn’t move, he added, “Now.”

  Gritting my teeth, I turned around and headed back out of my stinking kingdom.

  How. Dare. They.

  “I’ll follow you in my—” He froze by the truck’s bed.

  Two eviscerated deer carcasses haloed by black flies had been heaped inside. A slew of words that would make his mother’s curse jar overflow spewed from his mouth. He unlatched the tailgate, then seized the hooves of one creature and yanked hard. The animal landed on the grass with an awful thud. As he wrenched the second one out, I peered through the windows of his car.

  “August!” I gasped.

  Something viscous oozed down the backrest and dripped on the seat that was covered in animal intestines.