Now, the paint was pristine and the old carpets had been ripped up, exposing the original hardwood floors. Those had been stripped and refinished until they gleamed. The pack had restored the place to its original turn-of-the-last-century glory.
It was the kind of project Ruri thrived upon. She loved fixing things. She was a mean carpenter, electrician, plumber, a jack-of-all-trades really. When she was happiest, it was because she’d stepped back from a successful project and was basking in the glow of a job well done. When she thought about it that had a lot to do with how well she got along with Britt. The woman had come to them barely six months before. She’d been turned against her will and was struggling with controlling the change. Ruri had taken her in and helped her along, and now she was a stable, contributing member of the pack.
At the stairwell, Ruri took a quick peek over the railing before vaulting over and dropping down to the landing below. She landed quietly, knees bending slightly to take her weight. She repeated the maneuver two more times, then jogged from the stairwell into the building’s lobby. The restored chandelier glinted and Ruri gave it a satisfied glance. That project had also turned out well.
The Alpha’s door sat behind a long front desk, which had originally been used for checkins. Now it was a guard post of sorts. A tall man slumped in a desk chair, his feet up on the counter. He was so tall that even in the chair he gave the impression of towering over everybody in the room. Couches and easy chairs were grouped in various configurations throughout the lobby. Unlike the building, the furniture looked tatty and beaten up. Werewolves were hard on the furniture. Even now, two young men and a girl roughhoused together on one couch.
“Dean’s waiting for me, Lewis.”
The tall man yawned, exposing his teeth to her in an unsubtle attempt at asserting his dominance. Mentally, Ruri rolled her eyes. Poor Lewis simply couldn’t understand how a female could be the pack Beta. Clearly, he thought himself better qualified for the task. Constant posturing came with the territory. There were some days where it got the better of her, but she was in too good a mood today to care.
“Can it, big man.” She vaulted the counter and kicked at the back legs of the chair. Lewis and the chair toppled over in a clatter and a shout. Derisive hollers greeted his spill but were quickly quelled when he bounced back up and bared his teeth at the disrespectful younglings. The growl was impressive, Ruri had to give him that. She grinned broadly.
“Don’t even try it,” she said when he turned toward her. She looked him in the eye and stepped toward him until they stood chest-to-chest and breathed the same air. He couldn’t hurt her. She was faster and nastier and they both knew it. Lewis kept his eyes locked to hers as long as he could before he looked away, sweat beading his brow. An uncomfortable whine trickled from his throat. Happy that she’d gotten her way, Ruri backed down and stepped out of his personal space envelope.
“He’s in there.” Lewis’s voice was soft, his eyes still averted. He righted the chair and sat back down, his spine ramrod straight.
Ruri pushed open the door. The comfortable living room was empty, so she wandered through to the near bedroom. In there, a short man, broad through the shoulders with defined muscles flexing across his back and rump, paced back and forth. His skin was dark, except where lighter lines ran through it. Short dreadlocks covered his head and swayed with every movement. He’d had them for as long as she’d known him, almost seventy years now. Even when they hadn’t been fashionable, Dean had held onto the locks.
“Ruri.” He didn’t turn to greet her, instead pulling up his pants over a well-muscled backside. He reached over and grabbed a cookie from the plate on the bedside table. A quiet moan of pleasure reached her ears.
“Britt?”
He laughed lightly. “She’s a witch in the kitchen. Between the coffee and the cookies, I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.”
Ruri shared his laugh. “She spoils us, Alpha.”
“That she does.” Dean turned around, and she got a good look at the scars that crisscrossed his chest and abdomen. She carried her own scars and pulled her hand down from where she unconsciously fingered the notch in her right ear. Her scars were nothing compared to his; the Alpha carried many burdens for his or her pack. Being Alpha had its advantages, to be sure, but in Ruri’s mind they weren’t worth the constant struggle, both within the pack and without. She was satisfied with her position as Beta and had never striven to reach any higher.
“So what’s the deal?” She relaxed against the doorway, crossing her arms over her chest.
“We have another loner petition. MacTavish is passing through again.”
“Already?” Ruri frowned. She’d never liked the lone wolf; he’d spent too much time in town the last time he’d passed through. “Wasn’t he here just a few months ago?”
“A little more than that. Seven or eight, I think it was.” He raised both hands in a mollifying gesture when her brows drew even closer together. Ruri was rapidly losing her post-orgasm relaxation. “He’s heading back through the other way, I’ve been told.”
Ruri huffed in irritation. She seriously wanted to bite something. “I don’t trust him. I say you close your jaws around his neck and shake. I mean, right off the bat. Show him you mean business.”
Dean tutted at her. “That’s not who we are. We’re more than just monsters in this pack.” He crossed the room and placed his hands on her shoulders. His closeness radiated reassurance and Ruri leaned into his calming energy. “We’ll treat him like any other lone wolf who’s never offered us any problems.” He grinned suddenly. “Besides, do you really think he wants to go up against this?”
Against her better judgment, Ruri acquiesced. Dean was a fine specimen for a human and was even more impressive in wolf form. He might be short, but he was built, which meant he was a huge wolf. When they changed, they kept their mass. A 180-pound wolf was a sight to behold. Not only was he big, but he was also clever and quick. Ruri was the only one faster than he was, but he had no problems outsmarting her. It wasn’t that she considered herself to be stupid; by her own estimation, she was plenty crafty. However, Dean was usually five steps ahead—or more.
“Fine,” she said. She leaned into him and inhaled, pulling his scent into her and allowing it to calm the last of her nerves. “But if he even looks at you sideways, I’m going to rip out his throat with my teeth.”
“Of course you will,” he said, cupping the side of her face and holding her to his neck. The move wasn’t sexual or threatening. It grounded her and drove home how much he trusted her. It would have been the work of a bare second to tear out his throat from this close if she’d wanted to.
Finally, she pulled back. “When will he be here?”
“In a couple hours. Do what you feel is necessary to prepare.”
“Yes, Alpha.” She looked up at him for a moment, and then carefully averted her eyes. His dominance demanded that she submit. His personality was almost palpable, but she was dominant enough herself that her display of submission was subtle. The same instinct that had howled at her when Lewis had been insubordinate to her demanded it.
“Cookie?” He held up the plate to her, the corner of his eyes creased in good-natured amusement. He knew how much it cost her to submit, even so little. While she had no designs on the position of Alpha, she probably could have been one in a smaller pack. More likely, though, if she hadn’t found Dean all those many years ago, she would be a lone wolf today. Either that or dead.
“No, thanks. Britt will have my head if I scarf half the cookies she made special for you.”
“Suit yourself.” He tilted the plate toward his mouth and snapped a sliding cookie out of the air.
Ruri shook her head as she headed out the door to find Dean’s honor guard. As Beta, she was in charge of his security, though she shared the duties of bodyguard with a dozen different packmates. She would need the strongest ones. There was no point in giving MacTavish a reason to think there was any weakness he co
uld exploit.
Chapter Three
The man kneeling before them was rank with stale sweat and something darker. Ruri’s lip peeled back from her teeth and she snarled silently at him. To either side of her she was flanked by wolven, four on one hand and three on the other. Of them all, she was the only one not in fur-form. Instead, she wore loose black pants and her black tank. Her main concession to the meeting had been to show up armed to the teeth. The weight of the machete at her hip was scant comfort. A human would have been surprised to find out there was no silver in the weapon. Of course, a human would have been surprised to discover her existence.
Silver’s effect on wolven was an old wives’ tale, but one Ruri was just as happy was out there. Silver made shitty weapons. Anything that would handicap humans from hunting them down was fine by her.
There was no magic bullet to killing wolven. The only trick was to do as much damage to them as possible in a short time, before they could heal from it. Their high metabolism gave them healing properties that were off the charts. As a result, clashes between wolven typically involved bloodshed, but rarely death.
Dean stood in front of them and stared down at the disheveled loner.
“Alpha,” MacTavish said. His voice was rough, like he didn’t use it very often. “I…beg leave to pass through your territory.” The form of his request was ancient and bordered on ritual. Still, it was clear in the tension along every line of his body that he despised asking permission for anything, let alone begging for it.
Ruri eyed him closely and stiffened when he raised his head enough to peer at the people gathered along the edges of the ballroom. Most of the pack had turned out for the audience. That in itself was unusual. Typically, only a handful would be present; they weren’t the most exciting events to watch. She supposed they’d heard about MacTavish passing through barely more than seven months before and wanted a look at the wolven outsider who was becoming a fixture.
When the loner dropped his gaze again, Ruri relaxed a bit.
“You know the drill, MacTavish.” The Alpha’s voice was low and commanding. As happened every time she heard him speak in that tone, goose bumps rolled along her skin. She fought the urge to expose her own neck. Beside her, the wolves shifted, and those watching from the ballroom’s dance floor cast their eyes down almost as one. A flash of almost-white hair in the throng caught her attention. Brittney was out there, watching. Alone of those around her, she looked directly at the group on the low stage. Her eyes were hungry, almost feral. When she caught Ruri watching, she shook herself slightly and gave her lover a wink and a smoldering look. Even across the huge room, Ruri felt herself warm at the promise in Britt’s eyes.
“I do.” MacTavish clambered slowly to his feet. Standing, he was huge, much bigger than Dean. His unkempt hair and dirty skin detracted from the imposing figure he might otherwise have been. He peered up at the stage. Yellow eyes slid from Dean to Ruri before coming to rest on the wolven next to her. It was obvious to Ruri that he spent a lot of time in wolf form. Usually, wolven only betrayed fur-form characteristics while clad in skin if they were very old. Eventually, the accumulation of time as a wolf caused some characteristics to bleed over. Idly, she wondered if his ears were pointed. It was impossible to tell with the matted mop of long hair he sported.
The wolf MacTavish had locked eyes with whirled on its hind legs and buried wickedly sharp teeth into the haunch of the wolf to its left. Before the hapless wolven could do more than whine in surprise, the aggressor whipped its head to one side and the wolf went down in a screaming heap, hamstrung.
Dean whirled and advanced upon the aggressor at the same time as Ruri. As she moved forward, she tugged her tank top over her head. Unbuttoning her pants, she paused in her tracks opening herself to her wolf. Stupidly, she stood there. Instead of the rush of adrenaline and fur she expected, Ruri felt nothing. Her wolf coiled at the base of her spine, asleep and refusing to wake.
On the stage, the wolves had erupted in a seething mass of violence. Fur flew and teeth snapped. Growls and snarls filled the air. Aghast, Ruri watched as the discipline of her hand-chosen cadre of bodyguards dissolved into chaos.
Dean ripped open his shirt and stood before them, hands curled, but no claws burst from his fingertips. Like her, he seemed to be having problems calling forth his wolf. He raised his head and howled his rage at the ceiling. The sounds that came from his throat were much less than wolf; they were wholly human. Against the backdrop of vocal violence on the stage, he sounded puny and insignificant.
MacTavish stepped up onto the stage like he was taking a stroll in the park.
“I do know the drill, Alpha.” He sneered at Dean, the teeth in his mouth pointed and dangerous. “If I want something, I take it.” He snapped his teeth together, the sound shocking Ruri from her stunned reverie.
Dean pulled away from the lone wolf, pulling back his arm to punch him, but his reflexes were slow and MacTavish caught his fist before it made contact. Slowly, he squeezed, but the Alpha refused to give in. Bones cracked audibly and Dean’s nostrils flared. He gave no further sign on pain.
Wake up! Ruri screamed inside herself. She was rewarded by her wolf shifting as if in the midst of a dream. Ruri launched herself at MacTavish, drawing the machete from its sheath and aiming for his spine. She wasn’t at mere human level, but she wasn’t at full strength either; her reflexes were dulled. MacTavish leaned forward, the machete just missing him. He let go of Dean’s hand, and then backhanded her across the face hard enough that her ears rang and stars spangled in her vision. She staggered to one side; the machete slipped from nerveless fingers. Deep inside, she could feel her wolf stirring. Fur rippled softly through her mind, but not enough to shift. What the hell is wrong with me? With us?
Around them in the ballroom, the watching crowd was silent in marked contrast to the ruckus that was only beginning to subside on stage. Fights for the position of Alpha were between the Alpha, the challenger and their seconds. MacTavish had no second and hadn’t observed the proper forms for a challenge, but that hadn’t stopped him.
Taking advantage of MacTavish’s distraction over Ruri, Dean lunged forward and fastened both hands around the upstart’s neck, squeezing for all he was worth. The muscles of his forearms stuck out in stark relief, his hands dark against the sallow flush of MacTavish’s skin. MacTavish reared back, his face flushing as he struggled for breath. Try as he might, Dean couldn’t hold on with his damaged left hand and MacTavish staggered free. The Alpha followed up with a hard right to the sternum and a kick to MacTavish’s knee. A harsh crack echoed through the now silent ballroom and MacTavish went down.
Exhausted by his exertions, Dean stepped back. From his knees, MacTavish chuckled. Ruri couldn’t believe he would be laughing at a time like this. He was getting his ass handed to him by a wolven who couldn’t shift. If that didn’t prove he wasn’t worthy of the mantle of Alpha, then nothing would.
On the dais, behind Dean, three wolves prowled forward around the forms of their fallen enemies. Their jaws were streaked with blood and one of them moved forward with a pronounced limp. Another was missing the better part of one ear.
Dean kicked MacTavish under the chin, snapping his head back. The loner put a hand back to keep from falling over, but only laughed louder. The sound echoed through the large room. Many of the spectators looked uncomfortable. They had no idea how to act. Nothing about this situation was normal. It followed none of the rituals or dictates they lived by. Some of the watchers looked expectant, almost eager. A few moved forward and Ruri whipped her head back to the action on stage just in time to see one of the wolves launch itself through the air.
Two huge paws hit Dean between the shoulder blades, opening gaping rents in the skin on his back. He tumbled forward onto MacTavish.
Wake up, wake up! Wake! Up! Ruri screamed at her slumbering wolf. Her frantic fear and accompanying adrenaline spike finally got through to her wolf. All fur and teeth, her wolf rolled through her.
The pain was excruciating, as it always was. She could hear her bones break and reform and a terrible burn as fur erupted from her skin. She dropped to her hands and knees and struggled to keep her head raised, to watch the scene unfolding in front of her. Powerless to do anything but watch as her wolf completed its transformation, she stared with unblinking eyes.
With Dean on top of him, MacTavish turned his head and bit a large chunk of flesh out of the Alpha’s shoulder. Dean had managed to keep silent so far, refusing to show weakness even as his hand had been crushed and his back flayed open. The bite was too much, even for him, and he screamed his anguish.
Ruri’s jaw ached from the inability of returning his howl. Teeth shifted and poked through her gums. A salty wave of blood and fluid filled her mouth and she opened it, allowing the bloody mess to spew forth onto the floor. Liquid and more blood spattered the ground around her, artifacts of the speed of her change. She was almost there, just a little longer and she’d be able to help her Alpha…
In the middle of the stage, MacTavish pushed himself to his feet. He held Dean close, one arm around his neck, squeezing until the Alpha stopped struggling and went limp. With a terrible cry of triumph, MacTavish lifted Dean’s still form over his head. He turned to face the silent audience. Maybe a quarter of the pack had moved closer to the stage and stood watching, faces rapt and eyes hungry. Ruri had to swallow a whimper when she saw a familiar shock of white-blond hair among them.
The whimper was ripped from her throat when the loner dropped the Alpha’s body down upon his raised knee. A snap like a dead tree limb breaking echoed through the room. Even the group of pack members who clustered in front of the stage seemed taken aback by the brutality of the act.
Dean still wasn’t dead. His fingers twitched and he drew a pained breath as he lay in a tortured heap on the floor. It was harder than that to kill a wolven, and MacTavish knew it. He stepped back and gestured at the fallen Alpha.
Five Moons Rising Page 3