by Maria Lima
“I know it, damn it,” I said. “I just—”
“Forgot. You’re all right?” Adam put a soothing hand on my cheek and tilted my face toward his. His green eyes glowed in the reflection of the nearly fifteen hundred watts on each light pole that surrounded the stadium. Instead of setting up day for night, as filmmakers often did, this was night as day—a night game to lure the parents and community members who worked, the oval area brightened by the massive kilowattage. I felt more than heard the hum of electricity that powered those overbearing lights. I was very glad our property was plenty of miles away from here. This kind of glow could be seen farther than one would think in the dark of the Hill Country. No light pollution here, except at this very stadium. I wondered if nearby residents cared or complained. I knew I would.
Traffic and crowd noise would be a problem, too. During the regular football season, the crowd could easily double in size. This was just a game between the two halves of the same team, so everyone here was family, friends, and community members. Everyone, that is, except for us—and perhaps the werewolves. I still wasn’t convinced this was as innocuous a meeting as Adam seemed to think. There was no reason that this Fenrir couldn’t have just stopped by the Wild Moon tonight or tomorrow night, for that matter. It’s not like we were going anywhere.
“I’m fine, really,” I said and gave Adam a quick peck on the lips. “They may not have upgraded the bleachers since I was seventeen, but they’ve certainly paid dearly for those lights.”
He stared at me in puzzlement. “You know this place well?”
“As Tucker said, I came here during high school. Rio Seco was smaller then. Even now, the high school’s not big enough to have a football team. A fall Friday night’s entertainment back then usually meant hanging out at the lake or driving here to White Rock for a game. Probably still is.”
“I thought you didn’t like football,” Niko said. “You mentioned as much when we were watching that TV show … the one about the Texas high school team.”
I laughed. Niko was enamored of Friday Night Lights— my guess is that he thought the boys on the show were hot; hell, I certainly did—and he’d gotten me to watch with him so I could explain the cultural references. “Yeah, well. I didn’t and don’t like football—the show’s great, but it’s not about the game. Nor were our outings,” I said. “It was a way to get away. I was a teenager, remember?”
Niko’s head tilt and the expression on his face made it clear he had no clue. Damn, of course he didn’t. He was born in the sixteenth century. “Okay, Niko, sorry, that to-tally deserves a facepalm,” I said. “Getting away from our elders is pretty much the modern teen’s raison d’être. In my case, I had a car big enough for at least six of us to pile in and go elsewhere.”
After a moment, Niko seemed to understand. “Freedom,” he said. “I believe I understand.”
Not something he’d gotten much of, I imagined. A child prostitute during the first Elizabeth’s reign, dead at seventeen or eighteen of the plague, turned by Adam, who’d fallen for the beautiful boy. We’d had a rocky start, Niko and I, his natural cockiness leading to sarcasm and mistrust as I’d gained Adam’s love and attention. Once Tucker entered his life, he’d mellowed, realizing we were all family. He was still as much Adam’s as I was—without the sex, although at one time in their long mutual history they’d been lovers. Part of the upcoming ceremonies included an official blood bonding—the renewal of his oath to Adam—and two new bondings: his to me and he and Tucker’s to each other.
Tucker chuckled at his lover’s thoughtful expression. “We’re pretty much old fogies, cariad. Little sister here is not quite thirty-eight. Our teen years are centuries behind us.”
Niko flashed a beautiful smile, his light red hair glinting in the bright lights. “That they are, love, that they are. Still, learning this about your sister is rather fascinating.” He gave me a peck on the cheek, then leaned behind me, grabbed Tucker’s hand, mimed a kiss, and then quickly let go, mindful of our location.
“Memories, only, Niko.” I laughed as he returned to my side. “Good ones, but just memories.”
Adam, who’d watched this exchange with a knowing expression, took my hand. “And there they shall stay,” he said.
A short buzz from my ass morphed into the chorus of “Losing My Religion.” I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my phone. Rhys’s photo stared at me while I considered whether or not to answer it. Would Rhys be calling me here unless there was a problem? No one else was reaching for his phone, though—a good sign.
With an apologetic shrug at everyone, I pushed the button. “Rhys, what is it?” A note of anxiety accompanied my question.
“Have you seen the latest list?” I rolled my eyes at my brother’s full-drama mode.
“Are you calling me about the attendee list? Now? Rhys, we’re at the stadium about to meet with the Fenrir. Not a good time.”
“Well, damn.” He at least had the grace to sound sheepish about the interruption. “Do you at least have a sec to talk?”
“Rhys, my darling, loving, and very capable brother, y’all were given full charge of this event because of your many talents in this arena.” He started to say something but stopped when he realized I hadn’t finished. “Remember the part where Adam and I gave you carte blanche? We were quite serious. Think of it this way, we’re the groom at a traditional American wedding. You and the rest are the mothers of the bride and the wedding planners. Go, plan all the details, and just tell us when to show up and where.”
Dead silence on the other side stretched for too many long seconds. “Rhys? Is there an issue that takes precedence over us being here and meeting with a very powerful wolf leader?” As I spoke, the Fenrir’s energy continued to pulse around me.
“Maybe.”
“Is that a you ‘maybe’ or a Liz and the others ‘maybe’?”
“There’s just … well, some possibility of conflict with some of the guests on the list.”
I laughed and shook my head. “Dear beloved brother, I fully expect to have to do no more than endure the vast majority of this upcoming night and enjoy very little of it.”
Adam raised an eyebrow at me as if to remark on my last statement. I shrugged and amended it. “That is, very little except for those parts that remain special to me—when the three of you handfast; when my Protectors take my Mark and give us their blood oath; when Niko, Tucker, Adam, and I renew our blood bonds. Outside of those particular events, Rhys, I’m not expecting much of anything. Just as long as no one arrives planning to cut my throat or that of any of my people, I—and the rest of us—will survive it.”
Another pause. “Rhys?”
A bad feeling began to grow in my belly when he spoke again: “Okay, then, I think perhaps this can wait. We’ll take care of any issues.” With an extremely false “Cheerio,” he was gone, not having answered my question—that in itself was an answer.
I pocketed the phone and shook my head. “I think this planning is getting to him,” I said to the group.
“Don’t you think you might have actually heard him out?” Adam asked gently. “Rhys isn’t usually given to overexaggeration, is he?”
Tucker said, “Depends, but I agree with Keira. The reception is a big deal and Rhys is in full-on worry mode. He wants this to work for you both. No doubt our loving Gigi added some names to the list just to mess with things.”
“No doubt,” I said. “But I trust fully in Liz’s judgment on matters involving high protocol and iffy guests. There’s no need for us to get involved in every decision. We’ve given them direction. I’m sure that Liz will help work it out, or at least come up with a couple of viable seating charts or whatever to present to us later on. I’d really prefer to deal with the matters at hand right now.”
I stared up into the bleachers, in the general direction of where the Fenrir’s power pulsed, now careful to shield my eyes. That aura of barely leashed energy couldn’t be ignored as easily as I could Rhys
’s call. Unlike Adam and Niko, or any of the Kellys, Marcus Ashkarian hid nothing. While we’d been out in the ticket line, the power was there, obvious yet contained. Now, as we stood at the bottom of the bleachers, he unleashed it, letting it permeate the entire hundred yards of the field and its surrounding stadium seats, ticket booths, concession stands, and athletic building. Like a pulse of heat from a sun flare, it coated me, surrounded me, echoing inside my very bones, tasting of heat, fire, musk—that particular combination that howled “I am Wolf. I am King.” Familiar yet strange, its energy caused me to shiver. I wanted to caress it, use it for my own, and give it to Adam, getting it back a thousandfold as we merged together. Whoa, buddy, what the hell was I thinking?
“Fuck, what a rush. It is just us who feel it, right?” I said to Adam, my voice pitched so low that even Tucker was leaning in to listen. “You all do feel it now, don’t you?” I gave my head a quick shake, trying to focus on the absolute present and not let my emotions run rampant, thoughts of Adam and me, entwined on a dark-sheeted bed, sweaty and glowing with completion. I’d once seen a vision of Tucker and Niko that way, long limbs tangled together in the light of a dozen or more candles, love and lust the same. Not something I really cared to do again, thank you kindly. My own sexual encounters with Adam were more than enough. I had no intention of watching my brother and his lover.
Tucker flashed his teeth at me, as did Niko, the both of them waggling their brows as if to validate my own reaction to the wolf’s power. Adam, who also sought out the man at the top of the bleachers, nodded. “I feel it now.” He surveyed the crowd, all seemingly ignorant of the sheer power flooding forth. “Yes, I’m sure they do not feel anything.”
As with any other sports-going crowd, spectators, families, couples, and gangs of kids milled around, carrying coolers, lining up at the concession stand, munching on popcorn, sausages on a stick, Velveeta-coated nachos. Frankly, the place smelled. Every atom of burned oil and spoiling meat, the godawful smell of tripas being fried up in a ginormous pan, was enough to make me spew. I’d never known how people could eat fried intestines. Trying to avoid a very embarrassing incident, I focused on something else for a moment, watching a group of boys in full male display in front of the cheerleaders. Each held a beer, Lone Star for most, Shiner Bock for those more adventurous. Back pockets of their overtight jeans bore the telltale ring of Skoal or Copenhagen cans and rectangular wallet bulges. Unseen, but surely tucked in those wallets, there was a package with a smaller ring in case they got lucky tonight … or sometime in the next couple of months before school started again. Some of the pep squadders, perched in the stands directly above the cheerleaders, watched with envy and anger, a mix all too common in any high school. Like most places, pep squad was where you ended up when you weren’t athletic and pretty enough to wear the cute short skirt and the blue sleeveless top embroidered with a bright yellow WRHS, weren’t musical enough for the band, or coordinated enough for the flag team. Other girls, in their own sort of uniform, sauntered by, packs of them wearing too much perfume and overdone hair, cheap jewelry sparkling in the floodlights, hoping their dreamboat football heroes would pick them.
The cheerleaders, the highest in this false but very prevalent hierarchy, weren’t very cheery, however. In fact, they were practically wilting in the heat, their polyester uniforms, designed for ease of cleaning and care, stuck to their sweaty skin. A couple of them were halfheartedly practicing cheers, their team spirit fading in the unforgiving humidity. As I watched, a young family with two children walked past the group, the parents trying to find a place to sit, the youngest both sucking on neon-colored popsicles.
“’Bout time for kickoff. Should find yourselves a seat.”
I turned slightly, just in time to see a dishwater blonde dressed in full sheriff’s gear standing behind us. She nodded toward the seats. “Y’all should go on up.” After a quick once-over, she scowled at us, then turned to walk away, tension radiating from her with every step.
“Well, that was fucking interesting,” Tucker said. “Wonder what got up her—”
“Lily white ass?” I completed his thought. “Check around, bro. We’re pretty much smack in the middle of good ol’ boyville. Even more than in Rio Seco. She probably didn’t care for our looks.”
We viewed a sea of faces of all ages and sizes, but nearly all of the Caucasian persuasion. Never mind that the four of us were paler than every last one of these white folks, we were neither kith nor kin, and it was bloody well obvious. Somehow, in those few months at the enclave, in my time spent at the Wild Moon, I seemed to have lost a little of my Texanity. Texas now felt like an ill-fitting glove. Though Rio Seco still welcomed me, White Rock, which was probably better representative of small towns in this state, obviously did not.
“I don’t belong,” I said, my voice flat.
“You belong with us,” Adam said, followed by similar declarations from Tucker and Niko. “You’re my partner and co-ruler, Keira. You’ve Changed.” Instantly, his energy shimmered, letting me soak in the magicks that made him both vampire and Unseelie Sidhe, kin by distant blood, as all Sidhe are. I was Sidhe as well as Kelly; my mother was of the Seelie Court. Despite disparate Court affiliations, Sidhe were more alike than different. I reveled in the energy, blissful in its acceptance. Belonging.
A sharp stab of power flared, a virtual poke in the side. Adam snapped his shields tight, as did the rest of us.
“The Fenrir seems to be getting anxious to meet us.” Niko immediately went on point, while Tucker took our six.
“Indeed,” Adam said. “I should imagine this will prove to be quite interesting.”
We climbed the steps toward the power signature.
I still couldn’t pinpoint his exact location. The glare of the lights and shifting energies of the surrounding crowd masked his physical body, even though I precisely knew what he tasted of, what he smelled of, how he felt beneath my hands, his skin roughened by the out-of-doors, browned by the unforgiving Texas sun. A drop of sweat rolled down my temple.
“Fuck it’s hot,” I muttered.
“You’ve said.” Tucker teased. “It’s been over a hundred for the past thirty days, sis.”
“I was trying to concentrate on the fucking alpha wolf up there. If it weren’t for him, I could be back in the extremely cool house … perfect, cool, and quite comfy.”
Adam laughed softly. “I’d have said it was rather hot last night.”
I glared at him and poked Niko in the back, since he’d stopped walking. “Go, up the stairs like a good little vampire,” I said quietly, so as not to be overheard by the humans. “And you, brother mine, enough with the teasing.”
Niko made it up two steps before he had to pause again, to allow a family of redheads, each carrying a stadium seat and some sort of tote bag, sporting bright yellow shirts with the team’s Viking logo in blue on the front. There were at least ten of them juggling their gear and trying to force themselves into some semblance of order on the bench.
I glanced past them to the section just to the left and up a few rows. I could only see the top of a dark head, bent down as if to pick something up. “There you are,” I whispered.
Adam’s hand stroked mine. “Yes,” he said.
The last of the redheaded family moved into the row and Niko slid past them. Adam followed with me directly behind him. Tucker placed one hand on my back and walked in step with me.
“Shield with all you have, sis. Even I’m getting dizzy here.”
“It’s the heat,” I said as I took the next three steps at a faster pace, keeping my eyes on the uneven concrete. I may be Talented, but even I wasn’t immune to tripping. “What bloody fools decided that the middle of a record heat wave and drought is a good time for a football game?”
“That would be me.”
The Fenrir stood directly in front of me. I hadn’t felt his power move away from his previous location. Fuck. That could not be a good thing.
CHAPTER SEVEN
AS NORMAL LOOKING AS HIS NEPHEW Gregor was drop-dead gorgeous, Marcus Ashkarian stood perhaps six feet tall with close-cropped, dark hair, medium build, and an olive complexion that belonged somewhere other than the landlocked middle of Texas. He was handsome, not homely, but neither was he outstandingly gorgeous. Two men stood on either side of him, both more bodyguards than companions, if I was to hazard a guess. One blond, rangy, sharp featured, longish hair pulled back, and just this side of pretty. The other man’s shoulders seemed twice the width of the Fenrir’s, his stocky build that of a weight lifter or wrestler. A negative image of the other guard’s dark olive skin, dark hair, and square features. Unlike the other guard, this man had hair so short you could see scalp through it, as if he’d once shaved his head but was now allowing it to grow back. All three wore polo shirts in muted colors and tailored khaki shorts. Despite the crowd attending the game, there wasn’t a single soul sitting near their small group. This wolf had certainly marked his space.
I waited for the Fenrir to begin the introductions. Wasn’t that how it went? The lesser introduced himself or herself to the greater rank? I wondered if I was remembering something I’d read in a novel or if I was recalling actual Court protocol.
“Marcus Ashkarian, my lady.” The moment he spoke, I tensed, a growl threatening behind my clenched teeth. Hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention; my skin crawled. My growl increased, magickally echoing throughout the stadium. I couldn’t stop it. The Fenrir’s voice held raw energy, power beyond his mild appearance. Despite the fact I still shielded to the nines, a wrongness, a bitter, ragged edge jabbed at me. I countered with instincts of my own wolf shape. This wolf, this alpha, this Fenrir is too close. He trespasses. I wanted to challenge him, make him submit. The part of me still in control forced the feeling down, chained it. I clenched both jaw and teeth, fighting to keep from doing something I’d regret.
Niko and Tucker jumped to position, in front of me. Adam pushed them aside and placed his hands on my shoulders. “What is it, what’s wrong?” He sounded puzzled. I shook my head, trying to clear it. Comments and mutterings from the crowd surrounding us filtered in.