I wanted to step forward and put my hands on his skin, to feel if his pulse was rising like mine, to experience the intoxicating rush of heat his closeness provoked.
“Yes.” I pointed at his discarded jacket, too afraid to move toward him. “Please get dressed.”
“Start talking.” He turned away from me, threading his arms back through his T-shirt sleeves. When he lifted his arms to pull the shirt back over his head, my eyes fixed on the dark pattern on the back of his neck. I hadn’t thought of the tattoo since the day I’d saved Shay’s life. But there it was, sharply etched in the shape of a cross.
I frowned. We can’t be sure without getting a look at his neck.
“I’m waiting.” He picked up his jacket and slipped it back on. His words pulled my thoughts back to the present moment.
“I healed you.” I laced my fingers, hoping it would quash my desire to touch him.
“I know.”
He took a step toward me. “I could feel it happening when I—” He broke off, his wonder-filled gaze moving slowly over my face. “I drank your blood.”
My heart picked up speed and I nodded. He reached out and took my arm. My skin prickled as he pushed back the sleeve of my jacket and my sweater. His fingers ran lightly over my forearm, sending warm threads spiraling through my body.
The sensation was familiar and strange at the same time. I felt a thrill as if I were beginning a hunt. With Ren my desire came suddenly, like anger or a challenge. Shay evoked the slow burn of passion, an insistent, lingering white heat. Here there was no pack, no master or mistress. Just me and this boy, whose touch made me ache in places promised to someone else.
“Here,” he murmured as his hand traced over the spot where I’d bitten myself. “You don’t have scars either.”
He raised his eyes to mine, his fingers traveling gently over my skin. I returned his gaze for a moment, then pulled my arm away, shoving the sleeve of my sweater back down over my still-tingling skin.
You can’t do this, Calla. I dug into the dirt with my toe. You know you can’t. No matter what you feel up here, you are not free.
“I heal very quickly,” I murmured. “My blood has exceptional healing properties. All Guardian blood does.”
“It didn’t taste like blood.” His tongue moved over his lips as if he could still taste me.
I wrapped my arms around my waist. I wanted him to taste me again, but not my blood.
“No, because our blood is different. It’s one of our greatest assets. Guardians can instantly mend each other on the field of battle. It makes us close to unstoppable.”
“I believe that.”
“That’s its purpose, but as you’ve seen, we can heal anyone.” My toe found a stone and I kicked it across the clearing. “We’re just not supposed to.”
He watched the stone bounce along the ground. “Then why—”
“Shay, please listen to me.” My words spilled out, cutting him off. “Guardian healing is sacred to us. We are only meant to heal each other. What I did . . . when I saved your life, it was a violation of our laws. One that would make my life forfeit if any others in my world were to learn about it. Do you understand?”
“You risked your life to save mine?” He took a step toward me. I watched him move closer, blood roaring in my ears.
When his hands cupped my face, closing in so his lips almost touched mine, I shivered. Looking into his eyes, feeling the warmth of his breath on my skin, I knew I’d do it again, no matter the price.
“I would never want to put you in danger, Calla. Never.” He breathed the words. My hands came up to cover his.
His fingers grasped mine. “But the other wolf? Bryn. She was here. She knows.”
“She is my packmate, my second,” I said. “Her loyalty is absolute. Bryn would never betray me; she would lay down her own life first.”
“I won’t betray you either.” He smiled weakly, still shaken.
“You can’t tell anyone. Please.” I fought to keep my voice steady. “It would cost me everything.”
“I understand,” he said.
We both fell quiet. The silence of the meadow amplified our stillness. I wanted him to kiss me—wished he could smell the desire that I knew was pouring off me the way I was inhaling the heady scent of his own passion. You can’t, Calla. This boy isn’t the one for you. I closed my eyes, which made it a little easier to pull away from him.
“So since I drank your blood . . . am I going to turn into a were—, uh, Guardian?” he asked in a hesitant tone. “Is that why it was a violation of your laws?”
I shook my head. Was that a flash of disappointment in his eyes? “You’ve been reading too many comics, Shay.”
His lips cut into a thin smile. “So then tell me what makes a Guardian. I mean besides your origin story.”
“Well, we can be made the usual way. I have parents and a younger brother.” He looked surprised and I laughed. “But our families function differently. There isn’t a fall in love, get married, have children formula. New Guardian packs are planned well in advance. But if there is a sudden call for Guardians, they can be made. Alphas can turn humans.”
“An alpha?” He wandered back over to his pack, searching through it until he pulled out a granola bar.
“Pack leader.” I stood still, watching him.
“Are you an alpha? You act like you’re in charge. And you referred to Bryn as your ‘second.’”
“I am.” His careful observations pleased me.
“How do you turn a human?” He beckoned to me again, patting the earth next to him.
“A bite and an incantation.” I walked slowly toward Shay.
He glanced up at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and interest.
“Don’t get any ideas. I only bite to kill.” I shook my head, smiling when he recoiled. “Turning a human only happens if there is a dire need for Guardians and there isn’t time to wait for a pack to raise their young. Guardians who are made, not born, don’t have innate comfort in both their forms. It takes a while for them to make the adjustment. But if they’re needed, they’re needed.”
“What do you mean ‘if they’re needed’?”
I settled on the ground near him. “We’re warriors. Wars make casualties. But there hasn’t been that desperate a situation for several centuries.”
“Who can order you to make new Guardians?” he asked.
I bit my lip. “My mistress.”
“Your mistress?” He stopped unwrapping the bar.
“Lumine Nightshade. You know her. She was with Efron on Friday night, in the office.”
Shay nodded, but his eyes were troubled.
“She has authority over my pack,” I continued. “The Nightshades.”
“Your pack?” he murmured. “Is there more than one?”
“There are two,” I said. “The other is Efron’s pack. The Banes.”
“How many Guardians are there?” he asked.
“Fifty wolves in each pack, more or less,” I replied, and he whistled, leaning back on his elbows. “The packs always start small and are allowed to grow over time if the alphas prove capable warriors and leaders.”
“Do I know any of them?” He gave up on the idea of a snack, shoving his granola bar back into his bag.
“You’ve probably seen some of the adults around, but you wouldn’t be able to recognize them unless they shifted in front of you, and that isn’t allowed,” I said. “The younger wolves all go to our school. The Nightshades are my friends, and lately we’ve been hanging out with the younger Banes.”
Pieces of knowledge locked together, transforming his expression. “Ren Laroche and his gang.”
“Gang?” I tore a fistful of grass from the earth and showered Shay in dirt and decaying greens.
“Well, you guys all kind of act like it.” He brushed debris from his sweater, shook soil from his hair.
“We’re wolves, not a gang,” I said. “Besides, Ren’s friends and mine—the Nightsh
ades—we’re just the kids. Our parents and the other mature wolves are the true packs. They run all the weekday and night patrols of the mountain. We just take over day shifts on the weekends.”
He paled. “So that’s why if I’d been up here any other day of the week . . .”
“You’d be dead,” I finished.
“Right.” He leaned back, watching clouds move above us. “So why two packs?”
“The Banes patrol the western face and we patrol the east,” I said. “But the patterns will change soon.”
“Why is that?” He didn’t look at me.
“The Keepers are sending a third pack into the mix.”
Shay sat up. “A third pack? Where are they coming from?”
I looked away, suddenly self-conscious. “Not from anywhere else. It’s going to be a union of the young wolves from the two packs that already exist. The next generation of Banes and Nightshades. We’re the new pack. Right now it’s just the ten of us. Like I said, the packs always start out small; we’ll have to prove ourselves before new wolves are added to our ranks.”
“Calla.” The ferocity in his tone drew my gaze back to him. He’d pressed his fingers into the earth, whitening his knuckles. “Why do you keep saying ‘we’?”
“Ren and I are the alphas of our generation. We’ll lead the new pack.”
His brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.”
My cheeks grew hot. I reached for my braid, twisting it in my hand. “What do you know about wolves?”
“Bigger, stronger dogs?” He blanched at my baleful stare. “Sorry. I know nothing.”
“Okay,” I said, fumbling for the simplest explanation. “So, our social bonds are incredibly strong and revolve around loyalty to the pack alphas. Two alphas mate and rule over their pack. Each alpha has a beta, which is like our second in command. Bryn is mine. Dax is Ren’s. The rest of the pack falls in line accordingly and follows our orders. The bonds of affection within the pack make us fierce, the warriors we need to be. That’s how we move through the world and how we fulfill our duties to the Keepers.” I smiled wryly. “And probably why you think we act like a gang.”
Shay didn’t laugh. “So how did you decide to make this new pack?”
“I didn’t. The Keepers are the only ones who can order the formation of a new pack.”
“But you just said that two alphas mate to create a new pack?” His voice quaked.
I nodded, feeling the heat in my cheeks spill down my neck and arms. I have to tell him; he has to know. But I didn’t want to. I was sure he’d stop touching me as soon as he knew the truth, and that thought made me feel empty.
“You can’t tell me that you’re going to . . . mate”—he choked on the word—“with Ren Laroche because you’ve been ordered to.”
“It’s more complicated than that.” I drew my knees up to my chest, anchoring myself to the earth. “The only reason that Ren and I, or any of the young wolves, were born was to form the new pack. It’s what the Keepers brought us into the world for. They made matches for our parents, just like they’ve paired us as they see fit. Our union is a legacy of the alliance between Keepers and Guardians.”
He was on his feet. “Are you even dating Ren?”
“That’s not how it works.” I stood up. “You don’t understand. We’re not supposed to . . . come together until the union.”
“The union?” He turned away, muttering and shaking his head. When he faced me again, his lips thinned. “Are you trying to tell me you’re getting married? To that jackass? When?”
“At the end of October.” I put my hands on my hips. “And he’s not a jackass.”
“Could’ve fooled me. How old are you?” He peered at me. “Eighteen?”
“Seventeen.”
He lurched forward, grasping my shoulders. “That is insane, Calla. Please tell me you’re not just going along with it. Don’t you care?”
I knew I should shake him off, but his eyes were so bright with concern that I remained still.
“I care. But it isn’t my decision.” I couldn’t pull my gaze from his. “I serve the Keepers as all Guardians always have and always will.”
“Of course it’s your decision.” His face filled with pity, and I was suddenly furious.
I shoved him away. He lost his footing and fell to the ground.
“You know nothing about my world.” I spat the words.
He jumped to his feet with surprising agility. “I may not, but I do know that telling people who they can and cannot love is absurd.” Despite my hostility, he walked toward me and took my hand. “And cruel. You deserve more.”
My fingers trembled in his grasp; unwelcome searing liquid pooled in the corners of my eyes. Tears streamed down my face, blinding me. Why is he still touching me? Doesn’t he understand? I ripped my hand from his and stumbled backward.
“You have no idea what you’re saying.” I wiped my eyes, but the salty torrent wouldn’t stop.
“Don’t cry, Calla.” He was close again, touching my face, brushing away my tears. “You don’t have to do this. I don’t care who these Keepers are. No one can have that much control over your life. It’s crazy.”
I glared at him, flashing sharp fangs.
“Listen to me, Shay.” My words lashed out. “You are a fool. You know nothing. You understand nothing. Stay away from me.”
“Calla!” He reached for me, only jumping back when I shifted forms and snapped at his fingers. I could still hear him calling my name as I escaped into the forest shadows.
TEN
DARKNESS ENVELOPED THE SKY BY THE time I wearily pushed open my front door. Tranquil piano nocturnes lilted through the house, the sound track of my parents’ ritual on nights they didn’t patrol the mountain. Chopin in the air, a glass of wine in my mother’s hand or a tumbler of whiskey in my father’s. Tonight my father would be nestled in his leather chair while my mother roamed the forests near Haldis.
My shoulders slumped as I climbed the stairs, feeling like a heavyweight’s punching bag. All I wanted was to take a hot bath, to go to sleep, and to not wake up. Ever.
When I reached the top step, a strange series of bumps and shuffles came from behind Ansel’s closed door. I paused outside my brother’s bedroom and raised my hand to knock, but the door flew open.
“Hey, Calla!” Bryn emerged from Ansel’s room, flushed. Her eyes met mine for the briefest moment. When she looked away, the muscles in her jaw jumped about in a furious dance.
“You’re still here?” I swiftly did the math in my head. I’d left Bryn sitting at the kitchen table almost twelve hours earlier.
Her gaze darted along the hall. “Um. Yeah. Uh. I was . . . you know . . . helping Ansel with his poetry homework.” She tapped her fingers on her hips and didn’t raise her eyes to meet mine.
“Right.” I peered at her. “I guess he’s really fallen behind?”
A smile poked at the corners of her lips. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that.”
“Thanks for the help, Bryn!” Ansel called from within his bedroom.
“See you tomorrow, Cal.” She flew down the stairs.
I followed her rapid exit with narrowed eyes before heading into my brother’s room. Ansel lounged on the bed. He flipped over the pages of an English literature anthology with nonchalant sweeps of his fingers.
“How was patrol?” He continued his non-reading of the pages in front of him.
“Fine.” I settled on the corner of his bed. “And how was your day?”
“Fantastic,” he purred.
“And why is that, baby brother?” I asked, propping my chin in my hands.
He sat up, squared his shoulders, and shoved the book so hard that it careened off the bed onto the floor.
“Isn’t that your homework?” I pointed at the discarded anthology. He ignored my outstretched finger.
“I need to talk to you,” he announced, straightening even further.
“You do?” I rolled onto my side. “What is it?”
“Yeah?” I raised an eyebrow at him and plucked at the coverlet.
A frustrated expression flitted over his face. “I mean, me and Bryn.”
Oh dear. I’d been expecting this for some time. Poor Ansel. “That’s what you just said. What about you two?”
“Come on, Cal,” he said. “Are you gonna make me spell it out for you?”
“Obviously I am,” I said, knowing what he was going to say and yet hoping it wasn’t true . . . for all our sakes.
A rosy flush moved up his neck. He coughed. “I mean, haven’t you noticed how I—?”
He shook his head and punched a pillow so hard its seams burst. Goose feathers floated in the air between us.
I sat up. “Tell me what’s going on.”
He moved his head up and down as though he was rehearsing a speech in his mind.
“I want to be with her.” He drew a sharp breath and plunged on. “When the new pack forms, I want Bryn to be my mate.”
“Ansel!” It was worse than I’d imagined.
“Look, Cal. I love Bryn. Totally. Utterly. Everything that you read about in books and watch in the movies. She is all I want in this life,” he said. “I just needed to know if I had a shot. So I told her today.”
The words I knew I should say ran through my mind, but they lost in the mental wrestling match to the question I wanted to ask.
“And what did she say?”
His face lit up. “She let me kiss her. I think she liked it.”
I groaned but felt a spike of relief. Maybe this wasn’t so serious after all. “God, An, this is Bryn we’re talking about. You know she’ll try anything once.”
I gestured toward the hallway. “As soon as I got home, she couldn’t get out of here fast enough. I’m sorry, hon, but I’m guessing she’s mortified now.”
“Nope,” he said. “She’s just worried you’ll be mad. In fact, she’s afraid you’re going to bite one of her ears off.”
“Look.” I hoped he wouldn’t take the letdown too hard. “I know you’ve been crushing on Bryn since you were a puppy, but don’t get your hopes up.”
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