by Scott, Talyn
“My Mate and my Younglings are everything to me,” Ardan said, misting next to him in his most human form, making Jayce wonder if he, too, would start misting soon. “Pack comes second to you, always. Remember that when your time comes, Jayce.” He lifted the sleeves to Jayce’s shirt, checking the be-spelled markings. “I wondered how long they would hold, but I don’t think they did anything at all. Like me, you’re far too strong to hold back. For now, keep this to yourself.”
“Yeah, I gotta take off and I don’t need you coming in with me. I’ve heard enough about preferential treatment from the other Youngling males, though I’ve mostly convinced them I get away with everything solely based on my good looks and charm.”
“When you were born and I sensed your power, I prayed for humbleness,” his father retorted drolly. Before Jayce could answer, Ardan turned to the right, his eyes flaring blue. “Blood. Lots of it. Come.” He misted down inside the fence perimeter and Jayce followed, running behind him until they reached a cluster of utility sheds on the left embankment of the Academy.
“Carter!” Jayce yelled, thinking the bloodied Youngling male lying face down on the pavement couldn’t be anyone else. This was a weekly ritual for the assholes of their bunch, but this time it looked bad - really bad. “Mike!” Jayce kneeled down next to him, yanking off the remnants of his shirt. His back was shredded. In some places, Jayce spotted exposed bone. Next to Mike, his motorcycle was in pieces. “Mike, who did this, man?” He felt his claws emerge and his father quickly grabbed his wrists, shaking his head no.
“Accident,” Mike mumbled, blood bubbling from his mouth.
“Right,” Jayce snarled, trying to lift him without hurting him.
“I smell four males on you and one female,” Jayce’s father stated calmly, a cool head under all circumstances. “You will tell me exactly what happened.”
Even Jayce felt the wave of his father’s power, the insistence for truth. Hell, Jayce wanted to start spilling his guts himself, but he bit his tongue.
Mike groaned, trying to lift himself, but his fingers were badly broken. Some bones pricked through his skin. “I was…with Jill tonight.”
Jayce’s father cocked his head. “She’s a mixed blood.” He inhaled. “Her werewolf side is of Norse decent, I can tell that much.”
“Yeah, I, uh, cut our time short and brought her back here.” Mike was able to sit up, finally. Jayce had to look away when he spied Mike’s kneecap pushed up into his thigh muscles. “Without doing what she wanted to do…with me. And she called out her brothers, lying, saying I took advantage of her.”
“It’s just another excuse,” Jayce said to his father. “They’re never going to give Mike peace around here no matter what he does. Send him back to Scotland, Dad. He’ll die here.”
“I’ll die in Scotland. You have no idea how much better this is,” Mike said, faintly gesturing to his broken body with his only moving arm, “than what I had to put up with over there.”
Ardan nodded in agreement. “You’re staying in the states. I’ll heal you as much as I can, and we’ll get you inside.”
“With all due respect,” Mike dared. “I’ll gladly accept your healing but I don’t want to be carried in, especially by my Alpha.”
A reserved smile flitted Ardan’s lips, understanding male pride. “Your way, then.” He laid his hands on Mike, a static power coming from centuries of experience Jayce hoped to one day master left his father’s fingertips. He heard the bones moving back, snapping in place, but the outer skin would take longer to heal. Still, all in all, Mike’s sudden transformation was nothing short of miraculous, even in their immortal world. Truly, if Mike Carter had been a human, he probably wouldn’t have survived through the night.
“Jayce Jordan, if that’s you,” the Headmaster warned, misting in next to them, “I’ll have no choice but to call your father.” He gaped then, a flush hitting the planes of his cheeks. “Oh, Alpha Jordan, please, accept my apologies.”
Ardan met the Headmaster’s stare grimly, then waved a hand across the parking lot where Mike’s motorcycle was scattered in bits of shrapnel. “Mike Carter had an accident. Luckily, Jayce found him right before I did,” he lied smoothly, though he never needed to explain anything. “You will keep this quiet and allow him a day or two of rest. He can make up his work later.”
The headmaster inclined his head. “Oh course, My Alpha, as you wish.”
A tingling sensation moved beneath Jayce’s skin, and when he stared up at the males’ dormitory, he locked eyes with four smirking faces. The Holm brothers were at their finest tonight. Jayce curled his lip, flashing canines. A silent promise of unholy retribution was coming their way soon.
When the morning sun glared through the open window, Mike palmed his forehead, his head pounding with his heartbeat. “Jody lass, you’re not supposed to be in these dorms,” he argued, eyeing his half-sister as she lifted from the opposite bed. She’d stayed the night, ignoring his protests. “I’ve told you a hundred times over, I’ll be fine. So go back to your room and ready yourself for class.”
“I’m not leaving,” Jody argued hotly. “You took one too many shots to the kidneys this time.” Her eyes flared blue. “By the way, I’d drop that Scottish burr as quickly as possible. No one here has any respect for the Scottish Pack.” She snorted, waving a dismissive hand. “Correct that. What Scottish Pack?”
“Right you are.” Shame was something he couldn’t seem to shake, no matter how he tried. “I’ll be sure to work on a true American dialect, then.” He’d have it down in a half day tops.
Bren walked in with Jayce behind him. He glared at Jody. “Have a nice night sleeping in my bunk?”
She curled her lip seductively, her eyes then moving to Jayce. “You could have stayed. There was plenty of room.”
“Enough!” Mike shouted, wincing as stabbing pain hit his ribs. “Be gone, lass. Now.” To further his shame, his sister had the morals of an alley cat. What male hadn’t she fucked?
“Send for me if you need anything,” she said nearly contrite.
Right, like he’d do that. “We’ll talk later.” He closed his eyes, listening as she left. Finally, he’d enjoy a moment of peace.
“Mike,” Bren started in his warning tone. “What really happened?”
Opening one eye, he stared at him wearily. “Didn’t you hear? I wrecked my bike.”
“Right.” Bren tore the sheets off his bed to rid it of Jody’s scent and tossed them in the hamper. “Daily, I see werewolf after werewolf riding without the inborn agility to keep his bike in an upright position.”
“Jill lied and called her brothers on him.” Jayce leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. “Now, I’ve got a situation to deal with.”
Mike open his other eye, staring hard at Jayce. There was something different about him, something stronger. He could swear Jayce had become a Pack male overnight but he knew better. “How is this your situation?”
“How is it not?”
Mike refused to argue with a male who could potentially be his next Alpha. So he supplied, “Every werewolf attending this Academy knows my origins. They’ll think what they want, act on whatever they dare. I’ll deal. If you intervene, they’ll only retaliate.” Mike couldn’t deny the truth in Jody’s words. The Scottish werewolves had no Alpha, no Pack to speak of. Sure, there were mercenaries here and there. Some Pack Males had taken it upon themselves to protect what females Scotland had left. Still, most werewolves had scattered, heading to Ireland, which was Mike’s intended destination the second he turned seventeen. Problem was, news of him being an Alpha bastard had spread to the Irish Pack. Not that there weren’t plenty of bastards among them, but the ones born of Alpha lineage were quite shunned from birth, if their father refused to claim them. And even worse was the fact that his mother, Principia, had cheated on her Mate, which was also unheard of.
The beatings had come early in Mike’s life, so obviously his so-called father had known he wasn’t his al
l along. When Mike hit his teenage years, his father tore flesh from his bone weekly. And it was all a ploy to make Principia confess her transgressions aloud. During the last beating he encountered at home, when he was gasping for what felt like his last breath, Principia finally owned up to her sins.
He blew out a pained breath, tossed his legs over the side of the bed, and made to stand. He was hungry, exhausted, and sick of everything swirling inside his head. These things he didn’t want to think about anymore, but he had enough sense to know they’d never diminish.
Bren shook his head. “What really happened with Jill Holm?”
“As I told Jayce, nothing happened.” Mike couldn’t admit the truth to anyone, not yet.
“Rumors are already going around that you tried to pin her when you took her last night.”
“In her dreams,” Mike retorted with a mirthless laugh. “I don’t want to taste Jill’s blood and I didn’t take her.” When Mike thought things couldn’t get any worse, surprises never failed. But he wouldn’t run away from those fuckers. Rannan was the oldest of the brothers, but Xhaiden, Padg, and Mabon followed him blindly. All used their fists and makeshift weapons when they felt like it.
“Jill’s been with everyone here,” Jayce said, pressing the pointless.
“I didn’t service that skank,” Bren interceded. “I still don’t get what has her so pissed at Mike in particular.”
The sun softened then, streaming through the window and exposing the Sanibel morning in hues of bronze and gold. Yes, Mike would make his home here with his Mate, sooner than he imagined possible. “We’re going to miss first class,” he redirected them. “Let’s go.”
Jayce shrugged a little too casually for Mike to believe he’d dropped this. “Fine, Carter, but don’t expect me to play nicely with Jill’s brothers. In fact, I think sparring with the Holms is going to be quite interesting today.”
Mike got dressed after his friends stepped into the corridor. His attack had nothing to do with anything other than Jill’s jealousy. She felt it the minute he had, when he’d first glimpsed Tatum Shirley, catching a faint waft of her scent on Jill’s blouse. In the minutes that followed, he’d changed, his werewolf clawing to emerge. He wasn’t a fool. Mike knew exactly what that meant and so had Jill. So he had brought her back to the Academy, only he didn’t sneak her inside his room as planned. In her fit of jealous rage, she went off and told her brothers that he’d pushed her too far. As if she were some kind of virgin who didn’t open her legs to any male who passed her way. The four of them had come at him swinging baseball bats and Mike hadn’t any chance, not at seventeen.
He pulled on a shirt, wincing as the fabric abraded his raw flesh, and grabbed his backpack. When he opened the door, Bren and Jayce stopped talking immediately. He knew what they were up to but he didn’t care, couldn’t stop them if he tried. But he had other things to think upon, so many things. In his heart’s mind, all he wanted to do now was to follow the mixed blood and take care of all her needs. Inhaling her scent from a closer proximity would be a dream. One he would realize tonight, if he could manage to find her.
When they started down the stairwell, Bren caught an envelope flying from Mike’s backpack and handed it back to him. “Thanks.” Mike eyed the sealed letter with his ancient family crest waxed over the flap. Secretly, Mike had met with Ciaran before arriving on Sanibel Island. His Alpha cousin had given him no other advice than to keep his mouth shut about finding him, and then handed him a chunk of cash and the letter in his hand. Mike clutched it before shoving it into the bottom of his backpack. Finally, after years, Ciaran had obviously found Mike’s true father, was leaving it up to him to open the letter if he so desired. Right now, Mike wasn’t ready.
Jayce inhaled, giving Mike a sidelong glance. “I smell an Alpha, not my blood, though.”
A secret Mike would keep forever. Ciaran was hunted, his Pack angered since he refused to head back to Scotland and regroup the Pack in his destined leadership roll. Therefore, he was considered rogue and punishable by any Alpha whose territory he entered unless he reclaimed the helm of his monarchy. “You know I’m of Alpha blood. That’s what you smell.”
Jayce stopped and raised a questioning brow. “You think I don’t smell what’s on that letter, pal?”
“Let it go, Jayce,” Mike pushed by him, opening the metal door leading outside. “For once, let something go!”
Chapter 4
The moon dropped low, illuminating quiet waves, the sea foam barely bubbling before the next waved came along.
“Tatum, come on, it has been a week. Get over it.” Jill offered her a red, plastic cup. “Guys are checking you out tonight, and you seem oddly content in standing there while feeling sorry for yourself.”
Tatum sniffed the cup and pushed whatever it was back in Jill’s eager grip. “I’m not feeling sorry for myself.” Troy had been extraordinarily pissed last weekend when she’d suddenly halted his pursuit of her cherry. She couldn’t blame him. Guys didn’t appreciate getting amped up only to be shot down while their partners were half naked. But something strange had hit her entire body when they’d walked in the house together, causing Tatum to grow cold for him almost instantly. Desperate to make things work between them, Troy had stayed, trying to get inside her pants for another half hour before he left. She’d tried to call Troy every day this week, and conveniently, he was never home.
Tatum plopped down next to Jill on an abandoned sofa thingy, wincing when a broken spring prodded her butt. She scooted to the side, sniffing in distaste. “Someone removed this from the back of a car, didn’t they?”
Jill smiled coyly as Jayce Jordan edged the bonfire, downing the contents of his red cup. “Yeah, this baby has quite the productive bounce.” She wiggled her hips. “Especially when Jayce Jordan is bouncing with you.”
Tatum eyed her suspiciously, her stomach churning at the thought of Jill being with Jayce. Just as it had when her own sister, Molly, had implied he’d also taken her for a one-way ride. What a whoring ass! But still… So often, Tatum’s mind had wandered to the night she’d turned Jayce down flat. She’d never forget the look on his face. Obviously, her refusal had been a first for him. What he didn’t know is that she’d wanted him fervently, but he intimidated her in a way only surpassed by Bren Walker.
She had no idea when these hangups over being afraid of these guys had hit her. But in her defense, Jayce was absolutely huge for his age. Heck, he was even huge for an adult. On top of that, she knew he would have dumped her the minute he finished. Guys like Jayce didn’t stick with one girl. Ever. Not when they were bombarded with nightly offers of mindless sex, from girls doing things Tatum hadn’t experienced yet. “So…Jayce Jordan, huh. You didn’t stick around with that blue-eyed guy driving the motorcycle? From what I saw, he was incredible and completely into you.”
Jill tensed but her voice stayed syrupy. “Nah, my sights are set much higher now.” She waved at Jayce and he pointedly ignored her, barely glancing at Tatum as he turned around and spoke with some friends. It looked like a serious discussion, his mouth turning down in a snarl.
“Looks like he’s been in another fight,” Tatum said, eyeing his bloodied and swollen knuckles. “Aren’t you afraid of his temper or even his size?”
“Oh, he gets like that from football practice.”
Tatum knew better. Even so, Jayce Jordan was someone she had to forget. The first step in that daunting process would be to stop talking and to stop thinking about him. “Pass over that cup.” She took a swig and it tasted as close to Hell’s fire as she ever wanted to get. Then she took another sip, followed by a gigantic gulp. “What is this?”
Jill snatched it back. “It’s a homemade agave brew. Some islanders say consuming it will lead you to your destined mate.”
“Mate? Like animals?” Tatum snorted, staring into the growing bonfire. She had no idea of how long they sat there lost in their quiet thoughts, but the fire’s flames were suddenly more fascinating. Tatum r
eached out for the cup. “Give me more!”
“No way, Tatum, you’ve reached your limit,” Jill shot back. “This shit’s potent.”
“One more sip,” she pleaded as she slipped from her perch, her body growing warm and fuzzy, certainly relaxed, though she didn’t feel as though she were drunk exactly. Vaguely she watched on as Jayce and his friends slipped to the edge of the marsh. She wondered if he had a girl hidden back there and started to giggle when she actually wanted to cry.
Jill’s smile grew wide, her gaze moving between Jayce and Tatum. “Oh, why not? What are best friends for?” Putting the red cup back in Tatum’s hand, she murmured, “Finish it off with my blessing.”
When Tatum opened her eyes next, the moon stood higher in the sky. “What time is it?” She reached out for Jill, prodding, but no one was next to her. In fact, not many were circling the fire. “Great,” she mumbled to no one, “looks as though my ride has ridden without me. How will I get home without calling dad?” Damn, he was going to be pissed. Oh, and she couldn’t even bear to think of her mother’s clucking tongue going a mile a minute. Her arms and legs were so heavy, her mind foggy. “Oh, Jill, wherever the fuck you are, I seriously need to rethink our friendship.”
Tatum felt a light brush against her shoulder. As she turned away from the bonfire, she met the face of Jayce Jordan. He was going to ask her to make out again, and, this time, she was saying yes.
“There’s someone here that wants to talk to you. Come on.” With a heart-punching smile, he gestured for her to follow him into the marsh and she did. He was walking ahead, not next to her. Something was strange, different about him. He smiled over his shoulder. “This way.” Ahead, they reached a clearing in the marsh. Jayce’s smile twisted into a smirk as he stepped aside and revealed an angry Bren.