A Pack of Vows and Tears

by Olivia Wildenstein

My throat had closed up so tight that I didn’t even think coffee would go down. “I need . . . clothes. I need clothes. Jeb—” I whispered raucously.

  “He’s home. Let me get dressed, and I’ll take you.”

  “Okay,” I breathed.

  August unwrapped his arm from around me but threaded his fingers through mine and towed me back into the kitchen. I climbed onto a barstool, while he went through a passageway next to his bathroom—I assumed his closet.

  After pouring himself a cup of coffee, Cole watched me from beneath his blond eyelashes. “I’m surprised you still care about him after last night. You looked angry enough to murder him.”

  Huh? Him? Oh . . . Liam. “The only person I wish dead is Aidan Michaels.”

  Cole leaned his forearms into the island. “Can I ask you something?”

  I pressed my lips together warily.

  “What are your intentions?” he asked.

  “That’s really none of your business, Cole.”

  “I just want to know if you’re serious about him. That’s all. He’s been through a lot. And before you growl at me, I know you have too, but he’s . . . well, he’s—” He ping-ponged his phone between his hands. His fingers were as thick as Matt’s and dotted with the same blond hairs. “I guess what I’m trying to say is I hope this isn’t a rebound.”

  Even though I didn’t appreciate his mistrust, I couldn’t help but admire the consideration he had for August, which was the only reason I answered, “It’s not a rebound.”

  “Cole,” August said sharply, emerging from the closet dressed in army fatigues and a cream thermal tee molded to his torso.

  Cole straightened up, raising both palms in the air. “Just watching out for you, man.”

  “Thanks, but stay out of it.”

  Cole’s jaw set tightly. “Sorry.”

  As August leaned over me and nuzzled my neck, I said, “August?”

  “Yeah, sweetheart?”

  I pivoted to face him, forcing him to stop making my skin tingle. “This right here”—I pointed to Cole—“what he just asked . . . That’s the reason why I don’t want people to find out. The others will have the same reaction. It doesn’t matter that Liam and I broke up three weeks ago, or that he’s already slept with someone else; I’ll be seen as that girl.”

  August’s gaze tightened before glowing greener. “If anyone so much as insinuates—”

  I pressed my finger against his mouth to calm his rising wolf. His hair had begun to lengthen and thicken. “Let’s not discuss this anymore. Not with everything that’s happening.”

  He dragged in a long, long breath, and I lowered my hand. “Fine. But if anyone says something—”

  “I’ll clock him over the head with the hammer from that state-of-the-art toolbox you got me last Christmas,” Cole offered.

  “Thank you,” August said, rising up to his full height.

  “You’d do the same for me.”

  “I would.” August grabbed a muffin, bit into it, swallowed, bit into it again, swallowed again. Two more bites, and he was rubbing his hands together to get the clingy crumbs off. “Ready to go?”

  I got down from the barstool. “If you don’t mind me keeping the shirt, then yes. If not, I can put the dress—”

  “Keep the shirt.”

  He pocketed his car keys, wallet, and phone from a hand-carved wooden bowl on the island, while I stuck my feet back into my heels and grabbed my dress. When I drew the front door open, brightness flooded the loft-like space.

  Sunny days heralded good things.

  Today would be a good day.

  Julian would take out Cassandra.

  It struck me that he would inherit her pack. Would all of them move to Boulder? I hoped not because a thousand more werewolves in the area would not only clutter our woods but also instigate territorial skirmishes. I turned away from the bright sky to see what was holding up August. I imagined it was Cole, but both of them were staring at me.

  I shifted a little. “Are you coming?”

  August smacked his buddy’s chest, tossed him a murderous look, then walked over to me. He wrapped his arm around my waist and ushered me out. The warehouse parking lot was full of cars and trucks, so I stepped out of his reach.

  His eyes, that hadn’t lost their homicidal glint, swept over me. He didn’t say anything, but I felt a tug deep in my stomach, and the tug had me sidling back up to him.

  “August—” I gasped, tripping on my heels.

  He reached out to steady me. “What?” His tone was innocent, but his expression wasn’t.

  “You know exactly what,” I grumbled, quickly scanning the lot.

  Thankfully no one was outside.

  When we reached the pickup, he opened the door. “Ness, I have a physical need to keep you close to me. It’s beyond my control.”

  I shook my head. “Says the man with the greatest amount of self-control.”

  “Not when it comes to you.”

  He dipped his chin into his neck, and then the hand that wasn’t holding the door brushed my waist before opening like a flower in front of me. Sighing, I slipped my hand into his proffered one and climbed into the truck.

  Once he was settled behind the wheel, and we’d pulled out of the lot, I scooted closer to him and rested my head on his shoulder. His arm came around my waist and held me against him.

  “Do you think Julian will win?” I asked.

  August sighed, and his sigh fluttered pieces of my uncombed hair. “We’ll know soon enough.”

  “This fight-to-the-death tradition is so barbaric.”

  August pulled away to look down at me. “Says the girl who signed up for the Alpha trials.”

  “I didn’t know that was going to be the ultimate test. The elders just said I would have to leave if I lost. They didn’t mention dying.”

  He stopped in the middle of the road. Thankfully there were two lanes, so although we got honked at, the cars went around us.

  “I thought you were aware of the final trial.”

  “No.”

  “Would you have signed up had you known?”

  Before I could answer, Liam’s voice filled my mind. The fight will take place at noon on the lawn of the inn. I hope to see you all there to support our allies, the Pines.

  I checked the time on the car’s dashboard. “That’s in—in one hour.”

  August’s fingers cinched around the steering wheel. “I don’t want you to go, Ness. These fights . . . they can escalate. Spark other fights.”

  “And you don’t think I can hold my own?”

  “Of course I think you can, but do I want to risk it? No.”

  “I appreciate your desire to keep me safe, but I’m never going to be the girl who’ll stay at home and wait by the phone. That’s not in my DNA.”

  A couple different emotions slotted over his face—surprise, frustration, alarm. “Fine,” he finally said, “but you’ll be at my side the entire time. Hope you’ll be okay with that.”

  “August . . . ”

  “Not up for discussion.”

  I growled a little.

  “Indulge me, sweetheart. You’ve never attended a duel. These things are ugly. Even if the wolf you’re rooting for wins, they’re ugly.”

  I had attended one, but not as a spectator. I didn’t think bringing up my own trials again would help ease August’s mood, so I kept quiet. Besides, I didn’t hate the idea of being at his side.

  48

  We drove to the inn in August’s truck. I let Jeb sit up front, content to have the backseat to myself. As we rolled up the road to the inn, I intermittently texted Sarah and stared out the window at the sun-soaked mountains. She was confident her uncle would demolish the Creek Alpha. I hoped she was right.

  “I’ve never seen so many cars.” Jeb stared at the ocean of parked cars unfurling like a multi-colored wave down the sloping driveway.

  Even though he was hyper—probably jacked-up on coffee and stress—I worried coming here wou
ld be tough on him. Especially if his ex-wife was in the vicinity, fawning over Aidan Michaels. I really hoped Lucy wouldn’t show her face. For Jeb’s sake, and for mine. Could she not see what a vile man Aidan was? Could she not spy the dried blood of her son underneath the hunter’s—the Creek’s—buffed fingernails? Sure, he hadn’t confessed to Everest’s murder, but I sensed with every fiber of my being that Aidan had had a hand in it. After all, the inn would still be Clark-owned if Everest were alive. Which would’ve been a heck of lot less convenient to host Aidan’s extended family.

  “You heard Aidan Michaels is a wolf,” I told Jeb as I got out of the car.

  “I heard. I still can’t believe it. The quantity of Sillin he must’ve ingested to keep his scent in check . . . ” He shook his head, which ruffled his already mussed-up blond-gray hair. I’d never seen him so unkempt.

  August came around the car, hands in his pockets, probably to keep them off my body. Even though I’d promised to stay close, I’d begged him not to touch me. Touching would give us away. Maybe our scents already did.

  My uncle’s red-tinged gaze kept flitting from place to place without ever settling. “He probably can’t shift anymore. Or if he can, he must be one hell of an ugly bastard. One of those halfwolves. The only good part about him being a wolf is that now you can end him.”

  August came to an abrupt halt. “End him?”

  One of Jeb’s eyebrows shot up while the other slanted downward. “Don’t you want Callum’s murder avenged, August?”

  “Of course I do.”

  My uncle dropped his voice to a mere whisper. “Ness should use the duel as a diversion to slit his throat.”

  “Do you care about your niece?” August barked, jerking on the tether to bring me closer to him.

  “Excuse me?” Jeb asked.

  “If you cared about her, you wouldn’t incite her to do something so incredibly reckless.”

  “Reckless?” Jeb blurted out. “Blood killings are allowed! Encouraged, even.”

  “Perhaps, but advising her to attack the man during an Alpha duel? You and I both know how that could finish.” August was growling now.

  “It could finish with my brother getting peace, that’s how it could finish.” A vein ticked hectically in my uncle’s temple.

  “Why don’t you slit the asshole’s throat yourself, then?” August bit out.

  Ping.

  “Because I plan on slitting another man’s throat today.”

  “Whose?” I asked.

  “Alex Morgan’s.”

  “Cassandra’s son?” I asked.

  He nodded. “I spent the better half of last night contemplating the little shifter’s face through the silver grate. If Eric hadn’t kept me in check, the boy would be dead this morning.” On top of looking like he was hopped-up on drugs, my uncle sounded like it.

  “Is Alex here?” I gestured to the inn.

  “He’ll be here later.” Jeb dropped his voice and took a step closer to us. “Liam’s bringing him to barter in case . . . in case Julian isn’t successful.”

  “Barter against what?” August asked.

  “The Creeks’s immediate departure from Boulder,” he whispered loudly. “If she doesn’t accept Liam’s terms, then I get to kill the son-of-a-bitch.” Waves of anger and bloodlust pulsed off my uncle.

  I glanced up at August, worried today would turn into absolute carnage, and his expression mirrored mine.

  Jeb checked his wristwatch. “Twenty minutes to go.” His eyes sparked. “Twenty minutes.” He rubbed his palms together gleefully before prancing ahead of us. “I’m going to go find myself a front row seat.”

  For a while, neither August nor I spoke. We just watched my uncle’s form vanish into the entrails of his former inn.

  “Well, well, well. What do we have here?” came a voice I hadn’t heard in a long time. A voice I hadn’t missed at all.

  August inspected my face slowly before he turned around even slower. He stepped in front of me, barring me from Justin Summix’s view.

  “If it isn’t G.I. Watt.” Justin was chewing on a piece of gum, which made him look more bovine than lupine. Like at the music festival, he was flanked by his two cronies. “Heard you were dishonorably discharged.”

  “Is there a reason you’re trying to provoke me, Justin, or do you simply get a kick out of being a world-class prick?” August asked, his voice stretched as taut as a rubber band.

  Justin smiled before starting back up on his loud mastication. He craned his neck to the side to look at me. I wasn’t hiding behind August. I just had no desire to look at the sleazy Pine.

  “Guess I had you pegged right the first time we met, huh?” Justin blew out a bubble that smacked against his crooked mouth.

  “Choke on your gum, Justin,” I spat out.

  He smirked, and so did his two friends. One of them cracked his knuckles while the other just leered at me.

  “How does it work?” Justin continued. “Do you take them one at time or all at once?”

  That was it. I lunged around August, but he tugged so hard on the tether I flailed backward, whacking against his chest. A second later, Justin was dangling in midair, sputtering. Either August was squeezing his neck too tight or the gum had gone down the wrong hole.

  “Apologize. Now,” August growled.

  “Landon,” Justin wheezed, his face beginning to turn purple.

  Did that mean I’m sorry in some weird werewolf tongue?

  His friend, the one with the matching wifebeater and buzz cut, shot his arm out. I guessed Landon was a name.

  August dodged the fist flying at his face, then backhanded Landon in the jaw so suddenly that he blinked and stumbled backward before toppling onto the ground. I charged the other friend just as he raised his foot to kick August between the legs. August would’ve probably blocked the hit, but I didn’t wait to find out. I slammed my foot against the boy’s rising leg, flinging it away, then grabbed his shoulders and kneed him so hard in the groin he let out a high-pitched shriek before bending over and panting in pain.

  Adrenaline coursed through me, sharpening all of my senses. I could feel the cluster of raw energy on the lawn of the inn and the din of voices. I could hear the whisper of the smile growing on August’s lips and the steady thumps of his heart as he gazed down at me.

  “Fuck . . . you . . . both,” Justin hissed, snapping August’s attention back onto him.

  “That didn’t sound like an apology,” August said.

  Justin’s nails curved and sharpened, and then he clawed at August’s hand.

  August tossed him almost as far as the rock he’d skipped on the lake. “If any of you so much as look at Ness again, I will shred you like the vermin you are.”

  I grabbed onto his hand. Blood trickled out of the puncture wounds, ribboning down his wrist and soaking the cuff of his cream cotton shirt. I pushed his sleeve up, then dug a tissue from my handbag and pressed it against the four small wounds.

  “You’re a fucking lunatic, Watt, just like all the Boulders. All fucking inbred degenerates,” Justin rasped, rubbing his reddened throat. “First thing Julian’ll do when he wins the duel is kick your pack off our land for good.”

  “We aren’t on your land,” I said, still tending to August’s wounds.

  “He’d have to win first,” August added matter-of-factly. I didn’t think for a second he hoped for another outcome, but the taunt made Justin purple with rage.

  “Like that bitch has a chance in hell,” Landon muttered.

  “She beat the Aspen Alpha,” I reminded him.

  “I see where your loyalties lie.” Justin tugged on the hem of his white wifebeater to lower it over his baggy jeans. “Is it because she’s a bitch like you?”

  “Stop referring to my gender like that.” I lifted the bloodied tissue and balled it up in my fist. The torn flesh had stopped bleeding and was already knitting together.

  The fight begins in five minutes.

  Both August and I cra
ned our necks in the direction of the lawn at the sound of Liam’s call.

  “Let’s go.” August snaked his arm around my waist and towed me up the driveway.

  No one was inside the inn—no housekeepers, no perfidious aunt. I stretched my hearing to check if I sensed human heartbeats, but all the hearts that pounded were not the least bit human.

  Before we walked into the living room, August said, “You were remarkable out there.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  He stopped and pulled me against him, stroking my cheek. “I’m serious. In case you forgot, I was at the receiving end of a punch once.”

  I frowned.

  “The day I startled you at the gym . . . ”

  The day I’d decided to enter the trials. That day felt like eons ago.

  He dipped his head. Before he could kiss me, I pulled out of his arms.

  “August . . . ” I whispered.

  Thankfully no one was around. Justin and his friends must’ve circled the inn walls.

  August rubbed his mouth. “Right.”

  I knew it was silly to worry about being caught, considering what was happening outside the inn walls, but I couldn’t help it. I was a ball of nerves—because of August, but also because of the impending duel.

  We crossed the living room toward the wall of bodies lining the deck’s railing. I slid in next to Cole, scanning the grounds for Sarah. She stood between her brother and another girl—a short redhead.

  Although the Matzs were too far below for me to gauge their expressions, the set of their shoulders told me Julian’s family was on edge. The rest of his pack seemed slightly more relaxed. They formed a loose web behind Julian, who was discarding his clothes. He was down to a white undershirt and a pair of tight white briefs.

  His sister was circling Cassandra, whose body was already bared, shoulders held back, large breasts hanging low. Did the Creeks walk around naked all the time? Nudity was really the last thing I should be wondering about at this moment.

  “What is Nora Matz doing?” I asked.

  “She’s Julian’s Second,” August said, just as Lori broke away from the Creek Pack and crossed the field toward Julian.

  “What’s a Second?” I asked.

  Cole leaned his hip against the railing, one eyebrow raised.