Wolf Roulette: Supernatural Battle

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Wolf Roulette: Supernatural Battle Page 4

by Kelly St Clare


  “One pays thirty-five, two pays seventeen, three pays eleven, four pays eight, and twelve pays two,” I recited to Leroy, gazing at the roulette table.

  The Dens wouldn’t open for business until tomorrow night, but my training started three days ago.

  Leroy placed a blue chip at the junction of zero, one, and the first twelve box. “If I put this here?”

  “Five pays six.”

  “Good.”

  I’d always forced my mind away from gambling of any kind, but I doubt anyone could grow up without seeing a roulette table. Consider me surprised that this seemingly random assortment on red and black, odd and even numbers could make sense, but it was starting to.

  Leroy picked up his blue counters. “Let’s go through the outside bets. What’s this?”

  He placed a chip on the red diamond.

  “Red or black bet. Pays one for one.”

  The Luther moved the chip to even.

  “Even or odd bet. Also one for one.”

  We moved through Dozens, Columns, then High and Low.

  Leroy smiled. “You’re a maths brain. Ideal, or this wouldn’t have worked out. Roulette is one of the harder tables to calculate payouts.”

  I twisted the roulette wheel absently. “Throwing me in the deep end?”

  “Everyone has their preferred table.”

  I inhaled the slight decay of his oak scent. “Uh-huh. Is this the one no one wanted?”

  The alpha grimaced. “It was Daniil’s spot.”

  “I see.”

  “If there was another table, it would be yours. But game training takes time. It didn’t make sense to pull others away from what they have experience with.”

  I arched a brow. “Really, it’s fine.”

  He shot me a quick smile and moved through the inside bets, sometimes placing multiple chips down. Even if some of the names eluded me, the trick to using the centre column to make calculations proved handy.

  “There’s one other bet you may see from time to time.” He placed counters in a weaving line across the roulette table. “This is a snake bet. The waving shape of the line is the clue. This pays at two to one.”

  How did that work in with my centre column though? I counted the blue chips. There were twelve of them. My frown eased. Twelve pays two.

  Alright, I could do this. Calculating the various payouts with actual bet amounts would be another challenge, but with practice, I’d be fine.

  “Got it,” I said.

  “Let’s grab a drink before I leave for Sandstone.”

  The first grid match since the Stabattse was tonight. I’d felt sick with nerves all day. Somehow, they were worse than when I was head steward.

  As soon as Rhona unleashed a counter strategy for the pack’s ropes, Sascha would know what I’d done. Did he really mean what he said a few days ago about understanding my position?

  Yet the thought of the tribe losing tonight was horrible.

  “Cider?” Leroy asked.

  “Pear, please.”

  He slid it across the bar, and I twisted off the top.

  “Right, so job details. There are two shifts. Midday until seven. And seven until two. You’ll be seven until two because Sascha wants you here when he is.” He winked and took a sip of his beer.

  Leroy had the player persona going on, but his level-headedness was unexpected for an alpha—the hot-headed brunette woman from dinner was the prime example of what I expected of their status.

  “You’ll get two sets of the work uniform. The outfit is on the shorter side, but I swear our female pack members designed them. The temperature in the casino can get uncomfortable for our kind.”

  I crooked a smile. “I’m Thong Girl. Simple things like lack of clothing in public places doesn’t scare me.”

  “Of course. My apologies, Thong Girl. Now, while training with a mentor, you’ll begin at seventeen dollars an hour.”

  Seventeen dollars multiplied by twenty-one hours, minus tax. Right. Not great. I’d earned more playing saxophone. “What about when I’m working without a mentor?”

  “Twenty. During quarterly reviews, your table management will be assessed. Any pay rises will be decided then with a cap of twenty-five dollars per hour.”

  “Sascha didn’t say how much the payment to the pack would be.”

  Leroy pressed his lips together. “The pack decided that one hundred and fifty dollars a week would suffice.”

  On the head steward salary, I could have paid off the remaining five-thousand-dollars of Ragna’s debt within two months. It would take over a year to be rid of the debt at seventeen bucks an hour. Slightly less with a pay rise.

  “Is there a problem with one hundred and fifty?” I asked.

  “Sascha believes it’s too steep and that some pack members are penalising you for your past.”

  I’d say that was plausible. “And for Daniil’s death? He must have family.”

  “Parents. Two siblings. Most can admit you were protecting yourself. There’s no denying he was much loved, but after hearing your marshal’s explanation, most who mourn him feel just as much confusion as they feel grief.”

  “Grief is hard enough without betrayal creeping in.”

  “Your mother?”

  “And Herc. But mainly Ragna, yes.”

  Leroy set his beer down. “As back room manager and Sascha’s lead alpha, I need to ask. Will your mother’s gambling past be an issue?”

  “It won’t be an issue.” My voice was firm.

  He toyed with his bottle. “It just seems cruel to put you in the casino. I’m sure Mandy didn’t mean to suggest—"

  “Mandy absolutely meant to challenge me.”

  “It’s not her job to challenge you.” Leroy growled low. “It’s her duty to obey Sascha’s orders and give sound advice when asked.”

  I sipped the over-sweet cider. “That sounds a lot like something an alpha might say.”

  “An alpha who knows his weakness, yes.”

  “So what? You give over control to Sascha to remove your alpha inclination to take control?”

  He smirked “You’re observant. I’ll give you that. I saw the way you figured out the eating hierarchy.”

  I found the varying statuses fascinating. Every wolf had a different personality, but statuses displayed consistent strengths and weaknesses. Nothing shook Grim the gamma, but he contributed least in meetings between the pack and tribe. Mandy the delta came across as mostly easy-going but had a failure complex or possibly a massive, ambitious streak. Hairy the beta was level-headed and empathetic, but that made him want to please everyone and he could overthink things. Leroy’s smiles came easy, but I bet he struggled with the control aspect of alpha status a lot.

  “Not sure I made many friends that night,” I murmured.

  He finished his beer and disposed of the empty. “You’d be surprised how many Luthers respect power traditions. Some take issue because of what you were, but the rest saw you assert dominance over one of the strongest female wolves in our pack. Easily. That holds sway with them. Sascha is very proud.”

  I’d caught that.

  By refusing to eat after others, I’d taken a step toward the pack. I wanted to take more steps. Without delay.

  Leroy swept away my empty. “I’ll meet you late tomorrow morning for the last training modules. Sorry about the rush on this. We usually spread training over a couple of weeks.”

  The quicker I started work, the better. I wanted a distraction so badly.

  Leroy consulted his watch. “Shit, I need to get going. The run to Sandstone takes a while.”

  “I bet.” Bile surged up my throat as I followed him to the door.

  He glanced at me after locking up. “Will it be strange not to be there?”

  Strange? No. Unbearable? Yes.

  The only thing worse would be to watch from the sidelines.

  “It’s… an adjustment.” I borrowed Sascha’s word.

  The tribe would be okay.

  R
hona had this in the bag.

  “Andie?”

  I jolted at the soft voice.

  “Sorry,” a petite Luther said. “I’m interrupting your thoughts.”

  I faintly recognised her. It was the pup’s mother. “Not at all.”

  I’d just finished speaking with Margaret Frey. She was too old to battle in the grid, and since my Luther secret came to light, I’d wanted to fill in the Frey’s on Murphy’s real fate. The only part I amended was Pascal’s involvement in his death. She was blackmailed into silence, and it wasn’t fair to lay blame at her door for Herc’s actions.

  “How’s Axel?” I asked the woman.

  Three times a day, a frantic search started for the pup. He was mischief.

  As if hearing his name, Axel bounded from the grass and leaped onto the bench next to me.

  “Hello, healthy boy,” I cooed. “Aren’t you big now?”

  He jumped to lick my face.

  “Axel,” his mother scolded.

  I scooped him up. He’d really grown. Pretty soon, he’d be too big to hold like this.

  His mother smiled apologetically. “I’m Jemma. Mum of Axel. Mate of Credence.”

  Credence. Didn’t ring a bell. “Nice to meet you. I’m Andie.”

  The woman grinned. “So I’ve heard. I won’t trouble you long. While you and Leroy were gone, your friend dropped this off.”

  Peeking over the bench, I stared at the saxophone case in her hand.

  For fuck’s sake.

  She blanched. “It’s yours, isn’t it? He said you forgot it.”

  I released Axel and took the saxophone. “It’s mine.”

  Her nostrils flared. “I can put it somewhere else if you like?”

  “It’s fine. I’ve just gone off music. Thanks for bringing it.”

  Axel placed a paw on the case and whined.

  “There’s an instrument inside, little pup,” I said.

  He growled.

  My brows shot up. “I mean big pup.”

  That earned me a tail wag.

  Paw on the case, he whined again.

  Jemma patted his ear. “If you want to open the case, Axel, you know what to do. You’ll need human hands.”

  Axel ran off without another word.

  Jemma gazed after him.

  “He doesn’t like two-legged form?” I asked.

  She sat. “It’s not unusual for babies to shift and remain as wolves for a time. It’s an instinctual survival thing. Usually, they shift back and remain in two-legged form until the start of puberty when they go through their first official shift. Axel has been a wolf for nearly two years.”

  “Is that dangerous for him?”

  “There’s a lure to the power of wolf form that must be balanced by our human mind. Sometimes, Luthers fall prey to their wolves and turn feral. They remain in their four-legged form forever.”

  Axel was the only pup in the pack. There must be huge pressure on her and him. “Then we can only continue to give him prompts and wait for him to do the rest.”

  She released a breath. “I hope it’s enough.”

  What a massive burden to carry. Smelling that she was near tears, I changed the subject. “Mothers don’t fight in the grid, I gather?”

  “Mums with dependent pups stay back, and some of the older, unmated wolves too. Just over fifty remain behind right now.”

  This place was so quiet when most of the pack was gone. I liked the noise. It reminded me of the manor’s bustle.

  A male wolf’s howl shattered the calm—Greyson. Even in this form, I almost partially shifted to answer him.

  What does that howl mean? I asked Booker.

  Victory, she answered.

  Jemma glanced my way. “We won.”

  My heart sank. How the hell did that happen?

  She hesitated. “It must be hard to stay here when everyone you care about is on the other side.”

  Not everyone I cared about, but most of them. “It is.”

  I caught sight of Axel watching us from the grass. Setting the saxophone case on the ground, I flicked the catches back and opened the lid.

  My mouth dried.

  I hadn’t looked inside this case since Herc died. I’d last played when we scattered Ragna’s ashes at the red oak in her meadow.

  How did the instrument look the same? Gleaming brass and the same shape. I bet it even felt the same.

  How, when I’d changed so much?

  Aware of Jemma’s attention, I focused on the pounding approach of the seven hundred grid Luthers, my eyes on Axel’s wiggling approach.

  He wormed closer on his belly while we pretended not to notice.

  Bounding up at last, he peered into the case, cocking an ear.

  “This makes music,” I told him. “Do you know what music is?”

  “Like The Wiggles,” Jemma said.

  Werewolf pups watched The Wiggles. Okay.

  The pup stared at the saxophone and rested a paw on top of the bell.

  I scratched his back. “You need fingers like mine to play it.”

  He pushed the case toward me with his nose.

  My chest tightened. “Oh. Not right now. I—”

  “Andie is tired, Axel. Maybe you can ask her to play another time.”

  She heaved him up. “Goodnight, Andie. Sleep well.”

  Wolves raced from the forest, sprinting between the bungalows. They poured onto pack lands, yipping and snapping at each other’s feet in play.

  The tribe lost Sandstone. Unless the fisherwolf played me, I couldn’t see how they fucked it up. The counter-strategy wasn’t complicated.

  I texted Wade.

  What happened?

  A huge brown wolf padded to my side.

  I regarded Greyson. “Congratulations. That’s three grids.”

  Not only that, Sandstone was one of the harder grids for the pack to win. This wasn’t good for the tribe. It wasn’t good for Rhona either. I understood more than anyone the amount of pressure on her as the new head steward.

  Greyson sat and rested his chin on my head.

  Did he know I’d passed on pack strategy? His scent was pure happiness and pride. Sascha either didn’t care because they’d still won or Rhona disregarded my tip entirely.

  “You’re dribbling in my hair.” I shoved him away, keeping my tone light-hearteded. “Go celebrate with your pack.”

  After licking my cheek, he trotted away.

  I consulted my buzzing phone.

  Your sister is an idiot.

  That told me everything I needed to know.

  He messaged again.

  I thought she had a secret counter operation.

  Nope.

  Total landslide.

  I’m telling everyone she knew about their plan and did nothing.

  I snapped upright, typing back.

  Please don’t!

  You’re angry at her. I am too.

  The tribe doesn’t need more turmoil.

  Rhona’s pride got in the way of accepting my help. Though if she’d decided my transformation to a Luther was akin to me dying, then no wonder. It was foolish to tell her so directly.

  I’d need to be smarter in the future.

  Much smarter.

  The Luthers’ celebration soared as more pack members returned from the grid, and my devastation swelled in tandem with their joy.

  I was aware what this win meant to them.

  To Sascha.

  Even so, I couldn’t sit here and be happy while knowing what the tribe currently felt.

  Booker. Want to get out of here?

  If there’s one thing my anti-social companion could be depended on, it was leaving others behind.

  Thought you’d never ask.

  5

  I dabbed shimmer on my lids over the rose-gold shadow. Gathering my hair in a high pony, I pulled some tendrils free to frame my face.

  The uniform was laid out on Sascha’s bed.

  If Leroy hadn’t specified that women designed
this, I’d assume male alphas absolutely had a hand in it.

  The tight, short jumpsuit was made of satin. While the top half plunged at the back, the front was high and collared. I wiggled into the thing, working the suit over my hips.

  Yikes. Would this zip up?

  “Need a hand?” Sascha entered the room.

  I swear he listened for sounds of me changing and happened to appear.

  I eyed the biggest obstacle to success. My boobs. “Yes, please.”

  He crossed the room at Luther speed, hands reaching for the zipper situated low on my stomach. Christmas had come for Sascha Greyson.

  I sucked in as he drew the zipper up over my belly button and waist.

  The zipper stopped beneath my boobs.

  “Hold on.” I held the ends of the jumpsuit over my breasts.

  Air lodged in his throat. “Cleavage.”

  “The zipper, Sascha.” I tucked away my grin.

  Blinking several times, the Luther drew the zipper up to the base of my neck. His hand lingered there, the other curling around my waist.

  “Suddenly, I’m looking forward to work tonight,” he murmured.

  I tugged the suit down. “I feel like my butt is half out.”

  He circled behind me and swore. “There wasn’t a bigger size?”

  “I don’t know. Leroy gave it to me.”

  “Never let an alpha pick out your clothes—either gender.” Sascha grabbed the red tie and clipped it into place, folding my collar down over the top. “Each time I think you couldn’t be sexier, you prove me wrong.”

  I broke our burning stare. “Don’t you smoulder at me. I’ll be late.”

  He hooked my waist and drew me back against his body. I shivered as he moved his mouth to my ear. “Guess what. I’m the boss. You can be five minutes late. Plus, I’m taking you there.”

  Oh… “I thought I could just drive.”

  “Nonsense. I’m going. You’re going. We might as well share a car, and I don’t fit so well in yours.”

  Had I ever seen Sascha in a car? “What do you drive?”

  My continued axe-swinging lumberjack fantasy associated Sascha with a rundown pickup truck.

  “Just an old pickup truck,” he answered.

  Knew it.

  He changed into a crisp, black suit, and I grabbed my purse.

 

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