by Hettie Ivers
“I believe he’s at the infirmary,” Milena answered. “Or perhaps the lab. He said he’d be by later. I’ll tell him you were looking—”
“No need. I’ll talk to him in the morning.”
Milena nodded. “I’ll walk you out.”
Avery
“Can I fuck this one first?” I asked of the supposedly “easy target” Reinoso pack werewolf once our server was out of hearing range.
Wyatt’s eyes rolled. “I think it’d be best if you simply killed him.”
“You’re no fun.” And I hadn’t gotten laid since I’d been human. “What’s his name again?”
“Alcaeus.”
“Al-kay-huh?”
“Think ‘Al’ plus ‘chaos’—Alcaeus. Alcaeus is the name of Perseus and Andromeda’s son in Greek mythology.”
“Wow, they really excel at teaching useless subjects in private school. Why’s he an easy target?”
“Perry said he’s more of a scout and informant for the Reinoso pack than a rogue hunter. Apparently Alex and Milena have had him searching across America for signs of the capital R rogue for the past decade. Supposedly, he’s on his way to Denver next to meet with some of your old friends.”
Ah. “Well, can’t risk that happening.” I raised my fresh coffee cup in salute. “Kill him it is then.”
By “old friends,” Wyatt referred to the local Colorado pack I’d gotten acquainted with during my early werewolf days. Prior to Sloane’s birth, I’d felt the irrepressible, innate pull to belong to a pack, so I’d sought out and attempted to integrate with several. Unfortunately, in my ignorance as a new wolf, I’d done more to expose and endanger myself. As a result, I still had packs across the country hunting me to this day—in addition to all the rogue hunters I’d pissed off over the years.
With the first werewolf pack that had taken me in—the one here outside of Denver—I’d foolishly revealed surviving a rogue attack. That’s when I’d learned that humans didn’t survive rogue attacks. More importantly, humans didn’t survive the initial werewolf transformation. Ever. In fact, even half-weres born of human and werewolf unions rarely survived. I was quickly labeled an abomination by the pack elders and ordered killed.
Regrettably for that first pack, they lost big time picking a fight with me, because I wound up burning their entire Highlands Ranch gated community to the ground. I was a bit hormonal during my pregnancy, oddly obsessed with fire, and given to violent impulses that seemed to come out of nowhere at times.
After that I went on the run, pissing off several more packs along the way, before fabricating an acceptable backstory about myself in order to get a nice, God-fearing pack in North Carolina to take me in just prior to Sloane’s birth. I played the sympathy card by making up an abusive ex-boyfriend werewolf who’d knocked me up. It was a good thing my backstory worked because I couldn’t very well give birth at a hospital. And I wasn’t keen on giving birth by myself—or, heaven forbid, with Wyatt assisting me.
All was going well enough with the North Carolina pack and my luck was beginning to look up, but then my daughter, Sloane, was born utterly scentless—to everyone but me. Stranger still, I ceased having any sort of smell to anyone but myself and to Sloane the moment that Sloane was born.
Scent meant everything to wolves. They trusted their sense of smell above all other senses. The fact that my daughter and I suddenly had no discernable scent whatsoever was considered an aberrant horror on the scale of demonic possession.
So I went on the run again. And fortunately for me, the drive to belong to a pack had vanished along with my scent the moment that Sloane was born. Despite no longer needing a pack, I knew that I wasn’t a rogue in the true sense—at least not in the Rogue-with-a-capital-R sense. Because if I went too long without seeing Sloane, I experienced the same ill effects that other werewolves did when they attempted to go rogue. As long as I spent enough time with Sloane in between hunting rogue hunters, I was fine. Sloane, however, was another matter.
“So what about the Reinoso sister? Where’s her dossier of glamour shots? I expected more photos of her than anyone else.”
“What sister?”
“The sister. Perry said there was a sister who had also headed the family for ages.”
Wyatt’s brow pinched.
“Alex’s sister,” I clarified when Wyatt continued to give me a curiously blank look. “We talked about her before you went out there. Did she turn out to be a cousin or other relation then?”
“No …” He rubbed his temple. “No, there’s no sister. I’m sure I never said there was a sister.” He frowned. “Did I?”
“Yes. You did. You even mentioned her when you called me from Brazil.”
His frown deepened. He shook his head. “I couldn’t have. There was no sister.”
I felt my own forehead crumpling. It wasn’t like Wyatt to be forgetful. “You said she was the most gorgeous woman you’d ever seen,” I pressed. “You joked that you’d probably taken more photos of her than was necessary. God, what was her name? Alexis? Alexandria? No, that’s not it, but something close to that. Ugh.” I tapped my fingernail against the rim of my coffee mug. “It was like the female equivalent of Alex, but not Alexandria … It was …”
“You’re mistaken.” His voice sounded sure, but his eyes were still squinting with confusion and doubt. “I must’ve been talking about Milena, the Alpha.”
“Nope.” I shook my head and stood my ground. “Definitely not. Innocent-looking hippie waifs have never been your type. You fuck power-drunk, high-society stuck-up-bitch types who take no prisoners, both in the bedroom and in the boardroom. That is your type.”
“Ha! As if!” he balked. “That is not my type. And that is positively the most antifeminist sentiment I’ve ever heard out of you. I happen to like women who are comfortable with their sexuality and equally confident navigating a man’s world.”
“A man’s world?” I scoffed into my coffee cup. “And I’m antifeminist?”
“You know what I meant.”
“Suuure.”
“It’s easy enough to settle this.” Wyatt retrieved his phone from his pocket and set it on the table. “I’ll just message Perry and ask him if he ever gave me information on a Reinoso sister.”
He was thumbing through his contacts when the phone began to vibrate atop the Formica surface. The name “Lessa” flashed across the screen. As soon as it did, Wyatt’s face lit up like the Dow Jones had just gained five hundred points.
Whoa. “No time for dating, huh? Who’s Lessa?”
A vacuous, dreamy grin overcame Wyatt’s features as he snatched his phone up. “Ah … no one,” he said absently, beaming down at the vibrating device in his hands. “Just a new acquaintance.”
But his heart rate had spiked and his thumb hovered anxiously over the “talk” button a few moments too long before declining the call to voicemail for Lessa to be no one.
“You make a face like a twelve-year-old girl at a Justin Bieber concert anytime no one important calls you?”
He made a “pfft” noise of dismissal and quickly composed his features before tucking his phone away. “Don’t be absurd. Bieber hasn’t toured in years.”
“Seriously? That’s the joke you’re gonna go with as your defense here? What happened to calling Perry?”
“Who? Oh, right.” He whipped his phone back out, emitting a nervous chuckle.
I’d never seen Wyatt flustered like this. Giddy wasn’t part of his normal repertoire.
“How long have you been seeing no one?”
“Really, there’s nothing to share. It’s all very recent. Lessa was seated next to me on my flight back from São Paulo, actually. And then we ran into one another at a fundraising event in Manhattan a few days later.”
“Wow.” I nodded slowly, feeling my eyebrows strain for my hairline. “And you’ve decided this was kismet, huh? Not … strategic coincidence?”
“Avery, she’s no one.”
“No one who jus
t happened to be on the same flight as you from Brazil? And then at the same event days later?”
“Trust me, she’s not connected to all this in any way. True coincidences do still happen.”
His phone vibrated, and “Lessa” flashed across the screen once more. He shrugged sheepishly at my withering look.
“So you ran a background check and she came up clean?”
“Yes—I mean, no. But I will.” He tugged distractedly at the roots of his hair. “Look, there’s nothing to be concerned about, all right? The woman’s an angel. Involved in charity work for kids and homeless seniors—”
“Don’t need details.” I held my hand up. “Just run the check, please.”
“Of course.” Apologetic blue eyes cut back and forth from me to his phone. “I think … I think maybe I should get this. What if it’s important?”
I pointed to the clock on the wall. “It’s ten to three a.m., Wyatt. Who rings their new fling at this hour? Does she not know how to text?”
“She texts. She’s just old school,” he said defensively. “Besides, she’s in New York. It’d be five a.m. her time.”
Ignoring the unblinking, are-you-fucking-kidding-me stare I leveled at him, he answered the call, and a look of gleeful innocence erupted over his face in a way I’d never seen before. “Hi, there.” He cradled the phone close to his ear and arose from the table, well aware of my supernatural hearing abilities.
An awful sense of dread settled in my gut. I needed Wyatt, and I couldn’t afford for him not to be focused. It was selfish of me, I knew, but I didn’t have a choice. I needed his help more than ever right now with this werelock situation unfolding. Wyatt was the only ally I had.
I tasted both jealousy and contrition as I watched him pace in place on the opposite side of the diner—his face alight with happiness. It was hardly the first time I’d felt a sense of guilt over the knowledge that involving him in my werewolf problems had probably prevented him from having a normal life and starting a family these past ten years. I liked to rationalize that he’d long been a workaholic playboy who’d steered clear of settling down anyway, but Wyatt was pushing fifty now. And he was on track to be a Brad Pitt or Dylan McDermott kind of fifty—still hot and getting hotter with age.
He came back over to the table and rifled through his briefcase, giving me another apologetic look and mouthing something about Lessa needing a contact he’d promised her.
I couldn’t deny I felt threatened by another woman stealing his attention. It wasn’t that I had romantic inclinations toward him. Sure, he was good-looking and charming, and admittedly, I’d had a fleeting schoolgirl crush on him as a teenager, but he’d quickly become a big brother figure in my life, and that’s where he’d remained. We enjoyed one of those rare male-female relationships where, despite any inherent romantic appeal, we understood one another well enough to know that we’d always be best suited as friends. And that was before I’d turned into another species.
“I need to run out to the car,” he whispered to me, holding the phone to his chest. “I’m sorry. It’ll only take a second.” Still searching through his briefcase as he pushed the diner door open with his foot, he missed the baleful look I gave him as he went off in search of whatever it was Ms. Needy so desperately required at this hour.
I was so wrapped up in my thoughts as I watched Wyatt bound across the street to his parked rental car that too late I noticed the prolonged absence of our server and the scent of freshly spilled blood coming from the kitchen. It was the telltale scent of C-4 that caught my attention just seconds before the rear wall lining the kitchen exploded.
Alcaeus
I thought my torment was over after Milena and I had parted ways with my immature asshole of a baby brother and she was leading me out through the back terrace. But when I went to say goodnight to her, Milena linked her arm in mine and asked if we could take a brief walk, saying that she wanted to talk to me about Kai. It was on the tip of my flippant tongue to tell her to talk to Kai about Kai, but Milena had always been too sweet to say no to.
It occurred to me that perhaps I wasn’t much more immune to her emotional influence than Alex was. I used to think it was because she was our vessel or because she was my little brother’s mate that I felt so protective of Milena and somewhat beholden to her every whim whenever I was in her presence. Yet now I wondered if it had been Milena’s special brand of Alpha pull at work all along, quietly wrapping us all around her little finger. Well, all of us but Alessandra.
I realized the evidence of Milena’s influence was everywhere I looked as we strolled through the gardens. Human pack members now resided in the main house if they wanted to. There were more female soldiers and guards than we’d ever had before. Abuse of power was frowned upon and swiftly punished under Milena’s reign.
I knew she had enacted a law forbidding werelocks within the Reinoso pack from invading the minds of their lower-ranking fellow werewolf and human pack members. And while I was certain Alex was still actively violating that one, I couldn’t deny that under Milena’s influence my little brother and former Alpha was arguably more subdued and well behaved than he ever had been.
In fact, the many pack members I’d interacted with throughout the day all seemed pretty darn happy and far more … settled. The whole energy of the place was different. There was less infighting between the higher-ranking Betas within the pack. And it seemed as if everyone unanimously adored Milena and was eager to get on board with whatever she asked of them. Aside from Lessa, I once again qualified inside my mind.
“Kai seems to be doing fine with teleporting still,” Milena broached conversationally. “He hasn’t mentioned ever having anymore episodes—err—visions … least not to me,” she fished. “Everything going okay as far as you know? I mean, he’s still reliable for you and the team as transportation on your missions in America, right?”
Interesting. “Yep. Totally fine.” Aside from being a giant, ticking time bomb of suppressed emotions and sexuality, a consummate wet blanket, and a general pain in my ass. But there was no need to burden Milena with any of that. “He’s great. No issues teleporting that I’ve noticed.”
She exhaled audibly. “Thank goodness. I’m so glad to hear it. I hate to pry with him, you know? I understand how hard it is for him to talk about her.”
By “her” and “visions,” Milena was referring to Maribel—my least favorite topic and seemingly the only one Milena wanted to talk and pry with me about tonight.
“Alex tells me Kai still doesn’t really … interact … with females yet,” Milena continued to probe.
“Nope. Still celibate.” Still pining after a dead bitch.
“Do you think he still feels some sort of connection to Maribel?” Milena lowered her voice to a whisper as she slowed her pace. “I mean, do you suppose that’s why he hasn’t been able to move on or consider anything with other women?”
Duh. “I dunno. Maybe.”
Was this awkward stroll over yet? We were practically to the tree line.
“Are you saying you think Kai’s mate connection to Maribel was never fully severed in the official sense? Or that he’s simply still grieving?”
“Milena, I don’t know.” I tried not to sound as aggravated as I felt when she pulled us to a stop.
I was pretty sure Kai topped the list right after Alex of pack members eager to do Alpha Milena’s bidding. I had no doubt he would’ve told her anything she’d wished to know. Lucky for me, Milena was too kind-hearted to risk upsetting Kai by asking him directly. So she was torturing me instead.
“The last time I saw Maribel in the ether, it was awful, Al,” she confided softly. “She was warped. Demented. She’d done too many horrible things. She’d long passed the point of redemption, and she knew it. There was nothing left within her that was remotely worthy of Kai anymore.”
Milena’s eyes were glassy with emotion as she looked up at me. For the briefest moment, though, I glimpsed something more than sadness an
d empathy in their blue depths. But she glanced away, and the flicker of whatever it had been was gone before I could identify it.
“It was a mercy that Kai was severed from her.” The harder lilt of Alpha had permeated Milena’s tone, and when her azure gaze returned to me, streaks of green had bled through the blue, revealing how close her wolf was to the surface. “I’m afraid that if Maribel somehow weren’t already gone, I’d stop at nothing to find a way to end her, to prevent her from harming Kai and the rest of our pack again.”
I nodded mutely, awed and a little unnerved by the snap, dynamic shift of energy that had passed over her. I realized then what it was I’d glimpsed before: Zero hesitation. Zero remorse. Zero compassion—for Maribel.
But just as quickly, her voice was as gentle as the slight, sad smile that raised one corner of her mouth as she told me, “I don’t know that Kai would ever understand. I don’t know if Alex could. But I believe you do.”
I nodded. I did understand. And yet … I suddenly had the strangest sense of being in the dark.
“There’s something I never told you before, Al. When I met Maribel in the ether all those years ago, she … well, she asked me to give you her condolences.” Milena squeezed my hand in hers as she winced up at me. “She said that one day you’d understand. I never said anything to you before because at first I hadn’t understood what she’d meant. And once I realized that she’d meant Lupe, I … I’m so sorry …”
Classic fucking Maribel.
“It’s fine, Milena.” I nodded stiltedly through the red haze enveloping me. “I understand why you didn’t want to mention it before.”
I wished that she had never mentioned it at all. It was an awful misery not being able to strangle someone because they were already dead. I’d spent enough time over the past decade grappling with that. It wasn’t as if I needed another reason to despise Kai’s dead mate.
“I’ll never be able to fathom how Maribel managed to do all the awful things she did,” Milena contemplated out loud. “But then again, I suppose I’ll never realize the merits of the consequentialist point of view, either,” she remarked with an embittered, dry laugh.