Jason's Mate

by Abigail Raines

  I almost laugh out loud at that. I’m his best fighter and he wants me to not hold back on the skinny kid who’s only still alive because he’s light on his feet?

  “Okay...sure.” I take a breath and head back to the gym where Ray is sitting on a weight bench looking like he’s awaiting his execution which might be true. “Ray, Remmy wants us to fight. As a demonstration?”

  Ray blinks at me and says, “With...with you?”

  “Yep.” I bite on my lip and quietly say, “I’ll do what I can. Just remember everything we did today, okay?”

  “Oh...okay.” He moves like molasses when he gets up and follows me into The Ring. All of Remmy’s guys look excited suddenly. I guess they always seem excited about potential bloodshed.

  Shane, one of Remmy’s bigger and more dense henchmen, unlatches the cage for us to climb in. He looks even dumber than usual as he lets us in, clicking his tongue as if there’s about to be a bloodbath. There’s not going to be a bloodbath. I don’t care what Remmy’s holding over my family. I’m not beating the shit out Ray for no reason. Ray doesn’t seem to realize that though. He stands across from me looking terrified and I try to give him a look that says this is all going to be fine.

  Remmy plops down in a front row seat and lights a cigar. “Remember what I said, Carrie. No holding back!”

  Screw that. Remmy can go fuck himself. Shane counts off and rings the bell and the two of us shift. My wolf has gotten used to being in a constant state of ready-for-fighting. She’s always riled up and now I hold back her urge to launch right into an attack. Even if it wasn’t Ray, I’d probably hold back. Every move is a strategy and pouncing right off the bat is sometimes wise and sometimes not. It depends on the fighter.

  We circle each other, growling. Ray looks good when he growls. He’s convincing. But he’s favoring one of his hind legs and hunched over a little too much, just like he was when I was showing him my moves. It’s easy to tell he’s hurt and it would be difficult to fight him without hurting him worse.

  “Somebody, go!” Remmy demands, puffing on his cigar and spreading his hands wide.

  Ray takes the initiative. Good for him, I guess. He pounces on me and I easily dodge it. I nip at his haunches and swipe at him. This is stupid. It’s already easy to see that I’m barely going to touch him. It’s been awhile since I had to hold back in a fight and I’ve never done it in a cage.

  “Carrie!” Remmy says. It’s a warning.

  I pounce and attack Ray as carefully as I can but I also try really hard to make it look good, baring my teeth, growling and snapping. I’m trying really hard not to hurt the kid. Ray, to his credit, does his best. He gets my legs out from under me and we tussle, wrestling around. It’s as if we’re doing it all just for show. He swipes at my flank, because I’ve left it wide open for him. It’s not a bad wound. I nip at his shoulder.

  “CARRIE!” Remmy is on his feet. He looks pissed as hell. “What did I say?”

  I shift back abruptly when I get the chance and hop to my feet. I’m out of breath and I jog forward, gripping the bars of the cage in my hands. I sense Ray shifting behind me.

  “What’s the matter?” I say, still catching my breath. “I’m not holding back. He’s good.”

  “Bullshit,” Remmy says, glowering.

  I lick my lips and glance around the room. A few other fighters have arrived because it’s showtime in just a couple hours. “I’m not creaming him for no reason. He’s learning and he’s hurt right now-”

  “I know he’s learning,” Remmy says, grinning. “That’s exactly the point. He needs to learn or he won’t get better.”

  “Okay,” I say, nodding. I feel sluggish and stupid suddenly. I’m missing something. “So-”

  “Jack!” Remmy turns on his heel. One of the fighters, Jack, who’s about three times Ray’s size and who has no compunction about causing anybody pain, steps out of the little crowd that’s gathered on the bleachers. “Take Carrie’s place. Ray needs to learn. You’re going to teach him. No holding back.”

  My stomach sinks. Jack would kill him. “Remmy-”

  “Get out of the cage, Carrie!” Remmy bellows. “Get out now!”

  Oh. I think I’m only just realizing that Remmy walked in pissed at me. I have no idea why. But now I climb out of the cage and watch Ray stand there, alone in the middle of that circle. He looks so small now as Jack climbs up the steps to the platform and climbs inside with him. The difference in size is absurd. Ray is about to get crushed. Because Jack definitely won’t hold back.

  I jog around the cage to where Remmy stands, hands on his hips, a cigar in his mouth. “Remmy, Jack will kill him. He’s just started and he’s hurt-”

  “When I tell you to do something,” Remmy says icily, staring at me with his cold, blue eyes, “I expect you to do it. You’ve gotten pretty big for your britches, girl.”

  Shit.

  I’m not sure what I did. He’s probably not even going to tell me. I wonder if he heard about me talking Stacia’s husband out of gambling. I talked to him for five minutes and put the fear of God into him. I don’t think he’ll be making a bet again any time soon.

  “Don’t do this,” I say to Remmy. I try not to sound like I expect him to comply. I try to sound like I’m pleading. “Please, Remmy. Please.”

  Remmy smirks at me and nods at one of his guys. “Ring the bell.”

  Ray looks terrified. I see him already back up and then the bell rings and they shift.

  “Remmy, I’m sorry!” I shout, my voice echoing in The Ring. “I’m sorry! Seriously! Please? I...I’m not trying to... I’ll do whatever you say! Remmy!”

  Jack pounces and I can’t look but I hear Ray’s cry. He doesn’t stand a chance, not even for a second. He could easily be killed.

  “Remmy, stop!” I scream.

  The fight is all of two minutes and I hear Remmy cackling before the bell rings again. I hear Jack shifting and muttering about how Ray gave him no kind of challenge. I don’t hear Ray.

  “What, is he dead?” Remmy says.

  My blood runs cold until Jack says, “Nah, just knocked out. Not fightin’ any time soon though.”

  I turn around to look, hesitantly opening my eyes. “There’s so much blood… I don’t know how he’s not dead.”

  “Carrie,” Remmy says. “Why don’t you patch him up, huh?”

  I cast him a glare like death but I climb up into the cage. I have to swallow a lump in my throat. Ray’s wolf is brown and his fur is rough but pretty and thick. Now it’s all matted with blood. His breathing is shallow. He’s got a very deep bite in his flank.

  “I’ll need a...stretcher,” I say quietly.

  “Jack, get a stretcher,” Remmy says, barely paying attention now. He’s already on to something else, talking to somebody carrying one of his ledger books. Probably looking at bets placed, money won and lost.

  I help Jack load Ray onto the stretcher. Jack doesn’t look happy about what happened. He doesn’t look sad either. It’s like none of it matters at all. We get the stretcher through the cage door and as we’re heading back to the gym, Remmy says, “Oh hey, Carrie?”

  I turn my head to look at him and he says, “Don’t you ever fucking forget who the alpha is around here. Your dad still owes me forty grand in case you’ve forgotten.” Those icy blue eyes stare into me again and I nod again as we carry the stretcher into the back room.

  I don’t have any fights that night. I thought I would and that would have meant another bit of debt paid off plus some cash in my pocket, but Remmy sent me home instead. Clearly all of today was intended to teach me a lesson. Well, that’s great. Lesson learned, message received.

  I’m going to go get wasted and look for that hot, brooding Jason guy and try to forget all of today. I feel such a deep pull towards him, it’s annoying. I know he works at Casey’s just a few blocks over. I take my ass home from the gym and shower and change. When I get all cleaned up and good to go out, I find my sister Lorna doing her homework at t
he kitchen table and eating Fritos for dinner. Dad should be here making sure she eats. Lorna is eight and feels more like a daughter most of the time than a sister.

  “Can’t have Fritos for dinner, goofball.” I tousle her hair and she gives me an imperious look as I throw together some macaroni and cheese and a salad.

  “Did you fight?” Lorna says. Lorna looks just like my dad with wide green eyes and sandy blonde hair. She’s wearing my Nirvana t-shirt that she stole from me.

  “Not tonight,” I say, shrugging. “I was just training.”

  “Good,” she mumbles. She’s doing her math homework, and I’d offer to help but she’s pretty good at math. I set a bowl of macaroni and cheese in front of her and the plate of salad and she looks at me pleadingly. “Root Beer?”

  “Yes, yes,” I mutter. I pour her a glass and hand it over. “No more root beer after this. It’s too much sugar. I’m going out, okay?”

  Lorna gives me that look like she does not understand why I’m so protective. She gives me that look a lot; her lips turned down, her brow furrowed. “Okay?”

  “Okay, well I’m just letting you know,” I say, shrugging.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay,” I say, mimicking her. She smiles and rolls her eyes. I chew on my lip and face her. I’m wearing my “going out skirt” which is short as hell, along with my tights and boots. My hair is teased up. “Are you warm enough? How’s your coat?”

  “I’m warm.” She pushes her math away and grabs a crayon but I know she’ll finish. She just needs to take little breaks. “Cold at night though.”

  “Shit,” I mutter. “I’ll look at the heat then, okay? Tomorrow.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay.” I shake my head. If Lorna has one problem, it’s being too easy. Sometimes I worry she could be half dead and wouldn’t think to mention it unless I asked her if she was half dead.

  I hear the front door slam and my dad’s voice says, “Hellooooo.” I hear him drop all his stuff in the living room which drives me crazy. I try to keep it neat in there if I possibly can but I know that he works pretty hard at the docks these days. When he comes home, he practically collapses.

  I go out to meet him, grabbing my purse. Every single time I see my father, I feel that tight, hard little rock of resentment. He’s the reason I have to fight. He’s the reason we’re all under Remmy’s thumb. It’s hard not to hate him sometimes, even though I know how sorry he is.

  “Hey, dad.” I nod at him. “I’m goin’ out.”

  “Oh okay…” My dad has white hair now, but he’s solidly built. When shifted, he’s still a pretty powerful wolf if a little slow.

  “Lorna’s got dinner. You get paid today?”

  “Yeah-”

  “Okay, good. We got rent due-”

  “I know, I know.”

  I bite back my reply. He gets impatient with me when I talk about money at all which is almost all the time. But I do handle everything. I think he feels like it makes him less of a man or something. Ugh. Whatever.

  “Okay,” I say, sighing. “I’m gonna get drunk.”

  I’m gonna get so drunk I don’t remember who Remmy even is.

  “Be careful out there, Carrie.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  Alright, so I guess we both get impatient. Anyway, the bar is less than a mile away. I’m not too worried about finding trouble. I head out and let the door slam shut behind me. I’m wearing my “nice” coat which is the fake fur coat that’s a little bit sexier and is short enough to show off my legs even though I’m also wearing tights. Still, I shiver as I walk, my hands shoved into my pockets.

  At Casey’s I grin when I see that Jason the brooding hottie is behind the bar. Looks like he’s a bar-back. He’s washing glasses and wiping down the counters, a towel thrown over his shoulder. He’s hot as hell. There’s something wrong about him and I can’t find myself caring. I just want to climb him like a tree and I don’t know why he’s been kind of aloof. Unless he’s gay? But I definitely saw him eyeballing me, so I don’t think so. I walk over to the bar and put a little swing in my step and I see him breathe in when he sees me.

  He’s not going to be aloof for long.

  Still, I feel that dark, awful dread that comes from being indebted to Remmy and seeing Ray get practically broken in half, and living in Grayling in general. I want to forget about all that.

  I nod at Gary who’s tending bar and says, “Two shots of Wild Turkey.”

  Most of what follows is a blur.

  Chapter Six: Jason

  Carrie is wasted or anyway, she’s acting like she is. It’s sort of amusing except that she seems kind of sad. She’s sitting at the bar and leaning on her hand and outright ogling me. If this keeps up, I’m not sure I’m going to be able to resist temptation. This woman makes me feel like I’m a boy and also like maybe I could potentially be a good man. I don’t know why. I barely know her. Though watching her punch out that idiot the other night did impress me.

  “Where do you come from?” Carrie says. She grins up at me. She has a little overbite. It’s adorable.

  “Nowhere,” I say darkly.

  “So mysterious,” she says, laughing. Casey’s got a good crowd tonight. I’ve watched three guys hit on Carrie and she’s rolled her eyes and turned them all away, but she’s giving me plenty of attention. It’s flattering, I guess. I don’t want to have to tell her she should stay the hell away from me. But it might come to that.

  “Were you ever in prison?” She says, nodding at me.

  I was washing out glasses and I nearly drop one but I catch myself just in time. I haven’t broken a glass since that first one and I really don’t plan to. My mouth tightens. “Why would you say that?”

  “You act like somebody who’s been in prison,” Carrie says. “Like you came from somewhere awful. And you never want to talk about yourself.”

  “The awful place I came from was before prison,” I say, resenting the reveal of even that much information.

  “Interesting,” Carrie says softly. “So you were in prison. What’d you do?”

  “Nothing good,” I say, shrugging.

  Carrie takes another sip of her whiskey. She’s got a cigarette going even though you’re not supposed to smoke inside bars apparently? But nobody here follows that rule anyway. “Let me guess. If I guess right, you give me a free drink.”

  I roll my eyes and lean on the bar. When I look into her eyes, I see that Carrie’s not as drunk as she’s pretending to be. Now that is interesting. “You only get three guesses.”

  “Bullshit!” Carrie shrieks.

  That makes me laugh. I actually laugh genuinely, grinning as I wipe down the bar with my damp towel. Carrie points at me and hoots. “I made you laugh!”

  “Nah.”

  “I did.”

  “So what.” I shrug. Somehow I’m actually blushing. All the shit I’ve done in the name of an alpha who didn’t deserve anyone's loyalty and in the name of being a “pure” shifter; all that horrible shit, and I’m blushing over a girl. Talk about bullshit.

  “Murder,” Carrie says.

  I’ve murdered plenty of people though by shifter rules, it’s all a gray area. I shrug at that. “That’s not why they put me in. It was shifter prison.”

  “Oh!” Carrie’s eyes light up. “Oh, shifter prison. Damn. You gotta be a real asshole to go to shifter prison.”

  I snort at that. “Yeah, no kidding.”

  “Did you kill an alpha?” Carrie says. She asks it so casually. I get the sense that she would keep talking to me even if I had killed an alpha, which is pretty shocking.

  “No…”

  “You’re a lone wolf, right?” Carrie says, taking another drag. “You did something. You’re not from Alaska, are you?”

  “Carrie.” I smile tightly. “I’m not playing this game. Kindly fuck off.” My eyes flash when I look at her. I feel that old rage coursing through me. I clench my hands behind the bar.

  I had a whole lot of time
to think about myself at Mulligan. I had a lot of time to think about why I did the things I did. When I reached down deep enough, I saw how angry I was and how afraid. So intensely alone and afraid that I couldn’t hardly look at myself. It was easier to just go along; do whatever my alpha, Dax, said I should do. It was easier to keep my sister under my thumb. At least if I was miserable, I could make her miserable too.

  The truth is, I have no idea how to deal with another person and not be that guy I used to be. I don’t even know if it’s possible.

  Carrie smiles. She looks almost pleased that I told her to fuck off. “Look at you! Knew you had some fire in you. Not always Mr. Broody Pants, are you?”

  “Just drink your drink and leave me alone, will you?” I go about wiping down the counters and dutifully ignore her. Except I’m not ignoring her at all. Not really. I can’t ignore Carrie. I can sense her from behind the bar even when she goes outside to get some air and talk to some lunkhead from the docks. I know when she walks back in without looking. This is getting intense and weird and maybe scary. I glance up and she’s looking at me, her pale cheeks pink from the cold, her lips full and red. She can pretend to be hammered all she wants. But I can see the clear brightness of her eyes. I look away quickly and try not to think about it when she orders another double whiskey from Gary.

  “I’m fine.” Carrie smiles sloppily. She’s almost falling off her stool.

  It’s two in the morning and the lights are on.

  Carrie really is hammered now. The only problem being, the bar is closing up. She and two other drunks aren’t too eager to leave.

  Gary gives me a pleading look. “Can you make sure she gets home okay?”

  I rub my face, sighing heavily. “Sure.” I frown at her. “Where do you live?”

  “A mile away,” she says, shrugging. “I walked here.”

  “Jesus. But it’s freezing out. And I don’t have a car.”

  “I don’t have a car,” Carrie says, snorting. “I’ll just shift and run, I’m fine.”

  “No!” Me and Gary both say it at the same time. I already know you can’t just go running around in the middle of the night shifted and drunk. There are hunters out there. Dickhole human hunters who even hunt at two in the morning. Even if there weren’t hunters, I wouldn’t trust Carrie to be safe, not with the way assholes seem eager to physically fight her for some reason.