Isaac pulls me even closer into his back and my arms come up, pressing against him from behind.
“Thomas. Now,” Treven says standing just feet from us. “You’re a damned fool, you know that?”
The brown-haired one named Thomas finally backs off and Seth peels himself from the hood of Isaac’s Jeep. I hear the glass crack and crumble as his back lifts away from it.
“Still the same serious prick,” Treven says, holding out his hand to Isaac.
I only hope that was a compliment and not an insult.
Isaac shakes his hand, but I can sense that not an ounce of his anger has subsided as hard and rigid as his body is against mine.
I peek around Isaac’s back and catch Treven’s dark, brown eyes. Slowly, I come around to Isaac’s front, but he never lets go of me. He fastens his arm around my waist.
All of them have lost the frightening claws and black eyes.
Treven smiles at me, but my return smile I think comes out more like a grimace.
“No reason to be afraid of us,” Treven says to me. “Just business as usual.” He winks and I admit, despite still feeling sick to my stomach by frayed nerves, I feel safe.
“Sorry about the windshield,” Treven says to Isaac.
“No problem,” Isaac says.
Nathan and Darren walk up, both covered in cuts and bruises, which already seem to be fading. Nathan wipes the blood from the corner of his mouth while Darren pops his shoulder back in place like it’s nothing. I wince and nearly pee myself hearing the cracking and popping sound that his body makes.
I don’t feel so good….
I bury my face in Isaac’s shirt and he wraps his arms around me tighter.
“Damn, Darren,” says the black-haired guy that attacked Isaac at the last minute. “You got the shit kicked out of you!” Laughter resonates around him.
Darren looks anything but pleased, but thankfully he doesn’t retaliate. These guys, these werewolves, are very disciplined. A lot like the Mayfairs.
“So…that was a challenge?” I say warily.
Treven smiles hugely and then grins over at Isaac. “What’d you expect, babygirl? An all-out war?”
“Well, sort of. I guess.”
Really, I didn’t have time to ‘expect’ anything it all happened so fast.
“They’re actually old friends of ours,” Isaac says.
Finally, Isaac is starting to calm down, but something tells me he really doesn’t like that one brown-haired guy, Thomas. Not one bit.
Treven walks over and leans against the front of Nathan’s Cruiser. Hannah, still sitting in the front seat, slinks down farther out of sight. Seth’s girlfriend decides to get out of Seth’s truck and join everybody. She goes straight over to Seth and practically has sex with him right there on the hood of Isaac’s Jeep.
I uhhh, turn my attention back to Treven.
“Yeah, if this were a death-match challenge,” Treven says, crossing his huge arms. “Your man here wouldn’t have brought you.”
I twist my neck around and look upward at Isaac standing directly behind me. For a second, I want to lay into him and ask just how many times he’s actually done something like this since we’ve been together and I didn’t know about it. Because there’s no way he’d tell me. But I reconsider. I’ll save it for later when we’re not surrounded by male werewolf testosterone and I’m not risking making Isaac look like I have a collar around his neck.
I hear a WHAP! and see Nathan’s body hit the ground.
My eyes bulge wide and my body locks up.
“Damnit!” Nathan says, rubbing his jaw and…laughing.
Darren reaches out to help him back up and a smile breaks his face.
“If you want to go another round,” Nathan says to Darren still with laughter in his voice, “just ask!”
“Ask?” Darren’s face twists into a WTF sort of look. “You want me to ask you if I can punch you in the face? Man, you have gone soft.”
From the corner of my eye, I see four female figures jump down from the steep ledge and walk over to join us.
A beautiful black girl with long, dark hair comes up behind Treven and I see her hands slither up and over his shoulders. An excited growl rumbles in his chest and between these two and Seth and his girlfriend sucking face on Isaac’s Jeep, I’m starting to think Isaac and I should probably cut this gathering short.
Treven pulls the girl around in front of him, rather savagely, but I get the distinct feeling she’s used to it and happens to like it. He kisses her hard.
I look up at Isaac again and he nods, knowing I’m ready to leave.
“Isis, meet the Mayfairs,” Treven says.
Everybody introduces themselves and by the time it comes my turn, I’ve decided that she seems nice enough that I don’t need my Rachel-defenses up at all.
“I’m Adria,” I say and her smile gets wider.
“A pleasure,” she says, running her hands up Treven’s chest. “I’ve heard about you.”
That takes me by surprise. Since when did I become interesting enough to talk about?
“You have?”
Isis nods, her smile dazzling against her caramel-colored skin. “Hook up with a Mayfair,” she says, glancing briefly at Isaac, “and everybody knows about it.”
I breathe a quiet sigh of relief. I didn’t want it to be for any other reason, the sort of reasons that might single me out for being human, or for once being Vargas property.
“Nate,” Isaac says, “are you good?”
Xavier laughs at my right. “He didn’t look so good on his ass a few seconds ago.” He and Darren bump fists.
“I’m good,” Nathan says, grinning over at Isaac and me.
I chuckle a little under my breath.
Suddenly I feel like I need to sit down again and I reach for the Jeep door. Isaac pulls away and takes my hand. “Let’s go get something to eat,” he says, looking worried. “Did you eat anything today?”
I shake my head. “The last thing I remember eating was a tuna fish sandwich for lunch yesterday—haven’t had much of an appetite.”
“Well no wonder,” Isaac says. “You’re going to eat.”
“What about the windshield?” I say, gazing down at the concave where Seth’s body had slammed against it.
Isaac looks at the windshield. Then he looks at me. Back at the windshield.
He turns at his side, pulls back his arm and buries his elbow into the already broken glass, busting it out the rest of the way.
Seth and his girlfriend hop off the hood of the Jeep quickly and go back to fondling each other a few feet away.
I just stare at Isaac, my lips parted, my eyebrows wrinkled in my forehead while he clears all of the thick, jagged pieces away. Good thing windshield glass isn’t as thin and sharp as regular glass or else his arm would surely be covered in blood and cuts.
He opens the door for me, dusts the nugget-like pieces of glass out of my seat and gestures with his hand for me to get in. I just shake my head, barely containing the smile and hop inside.
“The restaurant isn’t far,” he says. “I’ll drive slow so you don’t get any bugs in your teeth.” He grins.
“Gee, thanks,” I say, smirking.
The Jeep’s engine comes to life after Isaac gets in and he lets his window down as Treven comes around to his side.
“So who’s it gonna’ be anyway?” Treven says, leaning over at level with the window.
Isaac shakes his head once. “We don’t know yet,” he says. “So far, looks like it’ll be Nathan.”
I know they’re talking about which of them will be Alpha.
Treven looks mildly surprised. “He’s not going back with your father?”
“No,” Isaac says looking at Nathan out ahead talking to Darren. “Things in our family have…changed.”
I ignore the fact that his comment held an underlying meaning; one that I know involves me in some way.
“Well, man,” Treven says, starting to lean away
from the window, “not to be a dick, but you know you guys can’t leave this territory without an Alpha for too much longer. The next challenge probably won’t be from friends.”
A knot forms in my throat and I can’t swallow it down.
Isaac nods subtly, as if in thought, but agreeing with Treven. “I know.” His answer is distant.
Treven smiles in at me, but there’s something more determined in his eyes. “You watch your ass, babygirl,” he says and looks back at Isaac. “You ever need us we’ve got your back.”
“Thanks,” Isaac says.
We pull away and Isaac drives slowly down the long dusty road, but it doesn’t help as much as I’d like at keeping the dirt out of my face now that there is no windshield.
“You know,” I say, wrinkling my nose at him, “you’re kind of bloody to be going in a restaurant.”
Isaac glances down at himself.
“Shower?” he says, looking over.
I nod heavily with a teeth-baring grimace.
We stop at his house first and he showers and borrows one of his brother’s cars before we head to the restaurant.
5
I PICK AT MY food after the waiter brings it to our table. All I can think about now is coming down with the flu right before our summer trip to Portland. Well, I have a few days to get over whatever it is. It’s annoying how at one moment I feel the sickness creeping up on me, and then the next moment I feel perfectly fine. At least the lightheadedness isn’t coming and going with the general crappiness.
“I can’t believe you’re not going to eat that,” Isaac says across from me. He spears a huge piece of salmon on the end of his fork and somehow works it into his mouth. He’s a lot like Harry when it comes to food.
“Hey, I ate some of it.”
“Not enough,” he says, pointing at my plate with his fork. “Now eat.”
I lean away from the table and press my back against the booth seat. Isaac stops eating and absently places his fork into the mound of rice on his plate. He swallows and takes a swig of soda, wiping his mouth afterwards with the edge of his thumb.
“Don’t lie to me,” he says, “how long have you been feeling like this?”
“Just since yesterday,” I say, taking a deep breath. “I kind of felt like this last year right before I got the flu—I do not want to go through that again.”
He goes back to eating, but keeps his attention fully on me.
“Maybe you should get a flu shot,” he says, taking a bite of rice.
“Absolutely not,” I object. “I don’t do shots.”
Isaac laughs.
“Alright, well then I can get Camilla to mix you one of her health drink concoctions—some of that stuff she makes can burn the bacteria right out of your blood.”
“Uhhh, no I think I’d rather take my chances with the fever.”
“Smart girl,” he says grinning, pointing his fork toward me again.
“Why does she make health drinks anyway?” I say. “Not like she’s going to die of any diseases or anything.”
“She’s the weird sister,” is all that he says with the shrug of his shoulders. “Well, in any case,” he goes on, “if you get sick, I’ll bring you soup and Ginger Ale and stuff.”
I can’t hide the blush in my face and absently I pick up my fork and poke around in my rice just to distract from it.
We’re situated next to a window that overlooks the parking lot. The sun shines fiercely, casting bright pools of light reflecting off car windows. The trees are green again and there are flowers near the entrance of the restaurant, though they had probably been planted recently by some landscaping service.
Business is beginning to pick up at the restaurant as the day wears on; mostly small families who, by the way they’re dressed, look like just came from church, or something.
Feeling guilty for wasting so much food that I didn’t pay for, I lift the fork barely into my mouth and eat a small bit of rice from the end of it.
Isaac reaches across the table and places his fingers on my wrist, slowly lowering my hand. I let go of the fork and just look at him.
“If you don’t feel like eating,” he says, “don’t worry about it.”
I sigh. “I just hate it that you—”
“No”, he interrupts, “that doesn’t matter to me and you know it—I thought we were past this already.”
Pulling my legs up onto the seat, I cross them comfortably under the table and place my folded hands into the hollow of my lap. I let out another deep breath and lean my head back against the seat.
Last month, while standing in the concession line at the movie theatre, Isaac had made it perfectly clear that I could ‘never again complain or feel guilty’ about him paying for anything. I remember staring up at the ridiculous prices of popcorn and soda, refusing to let him pay for all that stuff after he had spent so much money on me throughout the course of that week. Lunch and dinner here and there. Blended iced coffee—he was to blame for getting me hooked on those anyway. A new leather purse I had just vaguely mentioned that I liked when we were in the mall in Augusta.
After that, I’ve been careful not to mention my like of just about anything because I know he’ll go out of his way to get it for me.
“I know,” I finally say, “but it’s the way I am. Besides, I hate to waste food, regardless.”
The waiter strolls over. “Would you like refills?” He goes to reach for my half-empty glass, but I decline. Isaac nods to the waiter, indicating he will take him up on the offer. “And please bring the check too, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure thing,” the waiter replies while taking Isaac’s glass from the table.
I raise my index finger and say, “And a to-go box, please,” just before he leaves.
Isaac smirks and leans back in the seat, too.
“What?” I say with a weak trace of laughter in my voice. “I can’t save it for later?” I tilt my head to one side, waiting for him to give in.
Isaac shakes his head, surrendering.
“I take it you’re going to pay for the gas in my car on the way to Portland?” he says, looking at me in anticipation. “The convenience store stops? Oh, and the I Love Portland t-shirts?”
It started out as a joke, but somewhere between ‘convenience store’ and ‘Oh’ the jesting expression he wore failed under something more intolerant.
“Adria,” he says, “I would never want you to change who you are, but with me, you’re going to have to at least try to let that independent wall down a few notches.”
I blink, confused, and at first feel like I should be offended until he continues.
“Why don’t you let someone take care of you for once?” he says. “Besides, I can guarantee you won’t win this argument, so why fight it?”
He eats the last of his food and then moves the plate to the end of the table.
I change the topic. He’s right, after all.
“So,” I say pursing my lips and narrowing my eyes, “how many times have you gone off with your insane brothers to do stuff like that?”
I catch the smile in Isaac’s face as he glances downward at the table, but then he raises his hooded eyes to look at me.
“You mean since we’ve been together?”
I smirk at him, trying not to let him disarm me with that sexy grin playing provocatively on his lips.
“Yes, Isaac,” I say, “since we’ve been together.”
Damnit! I have absolutely no willpower when he does that! He lets the guileful smile heat up even more around his eyes. I have been disarmed.
“Isaac?” I say, crossing my arms and trying to gain some of my ground back.
“A few times,” he answers. “A couple of weeks ago while you were at school, a pack came up from Vermont—they were friends also—and before that, the famous Choi brothers, Hyun, Hyo and Ki.”
I look at him warily. “And were they friends?”
Isaac scowls. “Not so much,” he admits, “but we beat them a
nd they respect us for it.”
Well, that was good to know, but he’s still not off the hook here.
“And before the snow melted,” he continues, “a pack came all the way from Washington.”
I get the feeling they weren’t friends either and that maybe this challenge didn’t end as smoothly. My eyes get narrower as I wait for him to tell me.
“Yeah, I could’ve done without that fight,” he says. “Remember when Nathan was out of commission for two days?”
“Yeah.”
Isaac shakes his head and lets out a deep breath. “He was messed up pretty bad; the Alpha broke his back.”
I wince.
“And he still didn’t lose?” I could hardly believe it.
“Nope,” he says. “Nathan has never lost a challenge.”
“What about you?”
“Technically, I’ve never officially been challenged—Nathan’s closer to Alpha than I am,” he says. “But I’ve never lost a fight.” He puts up a finger and backtracks. “No, I take that back. I did lose to Atma Sahni, though he fights dirty and most don’t acknowledge that he beat me.”
“But you do?”
“Yeah,” Isaac admits. “Atma’s a badass and I respect him. He may fight dirty, but I think you have to be able to counter anything, no matter how dirty.”
I admire Isaac’s admission.
“What did he do that was so dirty?”
Isaac’s shoulders bounce gently with soft laughter.
“He attacked me in my sleep.”
My mouth falls open. “Seriously?” I smack my palm against the table. “Was he a rogue?”
“No,” Isaac unwraps a little complimentary peppermint and pops it in his mouth, “he just fights dirty, is all.”
“Why are you smiling about it?”
I don’t realize until after I ask the question that I’m sort of smiling too.
“Just thinking about it.” He pulls the neck of his shirt down to show me the deep scar I’ve always known was there, cut across his jugular. “He cut my damn throat,” he whispers.
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