“Gimme a break, Calla,” he said. “I’m not your baby brother anymore. This is for real.”
“You’re awfully confident.” I regarded his blinding smile cautiously.
His eyelids lowered, lashes veiling his gray irises. “What if I told you she let me kiss her for four hours?”
“What?” I nearly rolled off the bed.
“And it wasn’t just kissing.” His expression was positively devilish.
“Ansel!” I gaped at him, realizing I’d completely misjudged the scenario.
He bobbed up and down on the mattress, his eyes bright with mirth.
I rolled onto my stomach, grabbed a pillow, and sank my teeth into its cotton sheath.
“Come on, Cal. Be happy for us. We’re in love.” Ansel poked me in the ribs repeatedly.
I spit out the pillow and left the bed, pivoting to face him, fists pressed against my hips.
“That isn’t how these things work for us. I don’t care what books or movies say. We do not live the way humans do!” I snapped. “Ansel, you know that.”
“I know, I know.” He avoided my glare. “But Dad said that the Keepers take suggestions for matches from the alphas. So since you know how Bryn and I feel, then you can just pass that along.”
“I can,” I said. “But I cannot guarantee anything. Mating is arranged by the Keepers. They always have the final say.”
“According to Dad, Lumine followed his suggestions to the letter.” His eyes were so hopeful my heart somersaulted.
“I know. But Lumine won’t be our mistress. Remember? I told you this morning, it’s Logan.” Knife-sharp jabs pierced my abdomen. “If he says Bryn and Mason have to pair up, there won’t be anything I can do about it.”
I expected an outraged protest from Ansel, but he burst into laughter. I frowned as he collapsed onto the bed in hysterics. “Yeah, that would be something.”
“Uh—what’s the deal, An?” I said. “I was being serious.”
“Yeah, right, Calla.”
When I remained silent, he gaped at me. “Do you really not know?”
“Not know what?” I asked, feeling like someone excluded from an inside joke.
Ansel picked up the only uninjured pillow left on the bed, squeezing it between his fists. “Mason is gay.”
“You’re not serious. Mason?” I said. “Mason is gay?”
Ansel sighed. “You know, this is the problem with you alphas, you’re so concerned about taking over the new pack that you don’t notice what’s happening right in front of your face.”
“Mason?” I repeated, embarrassed by the astonishment I heard in my own voice.
“He and Nev have been dating for the past year,” Ansel said, flipping onto his stomach.
“Nev? Who’s Nev?” I frowned.
Ansel just looked at me and waited. It only took a moment for me to understand.
“You mean Neville? Ren’s Neville?”
“No, not Ren’s Neville. Mason’s Neville.” He grinned. “And he goes by Nev.”
“For a year?”
“Yes, they met in a support group for Guardians who are ‘out.’” He hooked his fingers in air quotes around the last word. “Because you know, none of us could ever really be out in unapproved relationships. Straight or gay.”
A wry laugh burst from my throat. “So you’re telling me that Mason and Neville—er, Nev—are both in Gay Guardians Anonymous?”
He shrugged. I dropped back onto the bed.
“Wow.” It wasn’t so much of a surprise that Mason was gay as that he’d hidden it so well. Then again, it was a matter of life and death, but the thought that he didn’t trust me enough to confide something so important made my chest burn.
Ansel stretched out beside me, his head resting on his folded arms. “It’s all under the table, of course. Because of the Keepers. They aren’t exactly tolerant of alternative lifestyles.” He made a bitter sound.
I buried my hands in my hair, squeezing the sides of my head. “No, that’s true.”
Mason and Neville? It was hard to imagine. Mason was outgoing and hilarious, but Nev just seemed, well, quiet.
Ansel pulled the latest issue of Rolling Stone from his nightstand. “Which is ironic, considering Logan.”
“Logan?!” I slapped my hand down in the middle of the magazine, forcing him to look at me.
“Yeah, Logan. At least that’s what Mason says. But for him, or any Keepers for that matter, it’s not an issue like it is for us. I mean, Logan will just get a witch trophy wife to pop out some heirs along the way and have as many incubi boy toys on the side as he wants.” His eyes flashed wickedly.
“Ansel!” I shrieked. At least I won’t have to worry about Logan acting like his father.
“Oh, come on, Cal. I know I’m your little brother, but it’s not like I don’t know about this stuff.”
He threw the pillow at me. “In fact, this conversation makes it obvious that I know a lot more than you do.”
Then his tone gained an edge of idealism. “But I hope that it means good things for us. I mean, what I said about Logan. He’s still a Keeper, but maybe he’ll be different.”
“Yeah.” I looked back at Ansel.
He chewed his lip, thoughtful but still optimistic. “I had to risk it, Calla. I love her. I’ve always loved her.”
A shiver raced up my spine. “Okay, Ansel. I understand. But until there is an official order from the Keepers, you two are under the table as well. Please be careful.”
“Thanks, sis.” I could feel the flurry of his heartbeat as he nestled his head in the hollow between my shoulder and neck. I closed my eyes, knowing I’d help my brother and Bryn, but another, less-admirable emotion bit into me. As an alpha I could help my packmates get the things they wanted, but there wasn’t anyone who could do the same for me.
ELEVEN
WHEN WE PULLED INTO THE SCHOOL PARKING lot the next morning, Ansel turned to me.
“Bryn will want to talk to you, so I’m gonna make myself scarce.”
I nodded, unfastening my seat belt.
“Please don’t yell at her,” he said. “And I really like both of her ears.”
I glared at him. He gulped and fled the car.
When I reached my locker, Bryn was already there. I could practically see her wolf form, cowering, ears flat, tail between her legs, standing in the same space as the trembling girl.
“I swear I didn’t plan for this, Cal.”
“I know.”
She danced uneasily around me as I opened my locker. “I’m so sorry. I know it’s not the way things are supposed to happen.”
I nodded, keeping my gaze on the stack of texts and folders.
“Please look at me.”
I turned to face my best friend and found her sky blue eyes wide and fearful.
A lump formed in my throat. “I can’t promise you anything.”
She grasped my shaking hand. “I know that. Come on, let’s get to first period.”
As she led me through the classroom door and toward our desks in the rear of the room, she cast a sidelong glance at me.
“So did you tell Ansel I have a thing for John Donne?”
“You have a thing for John Donne?” I snorted.
“Wow,” she murmured. “Your little brother is good.”
As I searched my bag for a pen, I heard her murmur to herself: “Whilst our infant loves did grow, disguises did and shadows flow from us and our care; but now, ’tis not so.”
I groaned. “That is so overwrought.”
But my stomach tried to relocate somewhere near my ankles.
“You just don’t have a romantic bone in your body, Cal.” Bryn swatted the back of my head with her notebook.
I shrugged without turning to look at her. Bryn wasn’t my only source of anxiety that morning. My eyes darted to the classroom door in anticipation of Shay’s arrival, guilt over my harsh words on the mountainside weakening my resolve to shun him.
But Shay was dan
gerous; I knew I had to fight the attraction that seemed stronger each time I saw him. The decision provoked a dull ache that settled in my shoulders. I liked this strange human boy. His shockingly reckless approach to life and his disregard for its rules were welcome changes from the crushingly close world I was in.
Then he was walking through the door. Olive green henley, jeans, messy hair that kept falling over his eyes. He strode into the class without looking at me and took his seat in the desk next to mine. I followed his stiff movements, swallowing a sigh, relieved but also sad that he’d taken my warning seriously. I didn’t just like him—I was fascinated by him. I’d never thought a human capable of capturing my interest. Shay’s manner didn’t mimic that of the boarding school sheep who scurried away when Guardians passed them in the halls. He was fearless and decisive, reminding me of a lone wolf, an alpha even, but without the bonds of a pack to root him in any one place.
I pulled out my copy of The Great Gatsby as Mr. Graham began his lecture on the politics of gender in the 1920s, and I tried to take notes, but my eyes kept flitting to Shay. His pencil scribbled furiously, and he paused occasionally to underline passages in the novel. Not once did he glance at me. I turned back to my own work, trying to convince myself that his changed behavior was a good thing.
Two down.
I’d gotten through the worrisome first encounters with Bryn and Shay. Now I only had one to go.
When I arrived in Organic Chemistry, Ren had already begun setting up our lab station for that day’s experiment. I strode toward him, pushing back the unpleasant memory of our last encounter.
“Hi.” I settled onto the stool in front of our table.
“Hey, Lily.” He pulled his books out of my way. “Nice dress.”
I bit back the knee-jerk desire to cuss him out, instead fishing my workbook from the bottom of my bag.
“What’s on tap for today?” I asked without looking at him.
A quiet laugh traveled toward me. “Alchemy.”
“What?” I asked. He can’t be serious.
He pushed a dish of pennies toward me. “I think Ms. Foris is trying to keep us interested by pretending this isn’t actually chem class. The experiment replicates the ways that classical and medieval alchemists tried to transmute metals into gold. We have to test a hypothesis about whether the process could actually be successful.”
“I see.” I began to read the instructions in the workbook and gathered several beakers that would hold the various liquids needed in the experiment.
“If it works, I’m taking the gold and running.” He brought out more implements from our cabinet.
“Sounds like a plan.” I searched for the long-stemmed butane lighter while he set up the Bunsen burner. “How was the rest of your weekend?”
Wrong question.
Ren stiffened. “Fine.” He snatched the lighter from my hand.
The class period dragged by, tense and awkward, our conversation limited to abrupt questions and one-word answers. As we mechanically worked through the experiment, a sucking, hollow vacuum took up residence in my chest.
I was examining the penny clasped between the metal tongs, searching for signs of change, when a breathy voice came from behind me.
“Hey, Ren.”
My grip on the tongs tightened as I glanced over my shoulder. Ashley Rice, leggy, brunette, and human, cocked her head at the Bane alpha. Her bubble gum pink lips parted in an inviting smile.
“Hey, Ashley.” Ren set down his pencil, leaning casually against the lab station.
I turned back to our experiment as she batted her eyelashes. Ren’s conquests fell into two categories: those girls who still pined for him and those who stuck pins into his voodoo likeness every night. Ashley ranked among the former.
I glanced at the clock. Our lab period was nearly over. I moved over to the sink and began to dump out liquids from our beakers.
“So, Ren.” I winced at Ashley’s smoky tone. “I know it’s over a month away, but there’s bound to be a line of girls waiting to ask you to Blood Moon.”
My teeth ground together. I wiped out one beaker with a paper towel and grabbed another.
“We had such a great time at prom last year.” Ashley’s wistful sigh buried barb-like into my neck. “And we haven’t hung out in a while. Would you like to go with me?”
“Sorry, Ash,” he said. “I’m spoken for.”
“You already have a date for the ball?” Her shrill voice was a little too loud.
“Yes.”
I heard Ashley shuffle her feet. “Well, who is it?” she whined.
“Calla.”
The beaker in my hand shattered. I swore as glass shards buried in my palm.
Ren was instantly at my side. “Come on, Cal. What did that beaker ever do to you?”
I shook my head, still cursing, and began to pull clear, razor-edged bits of glass from my skin.
“Are you okay?” Ashley managed to sound concerned as she leaned over our lab station. “Oh my God. There’s so much blood.”
Despite the pain in my hand, I smiled when she turned green and fled.
“I’ll get the first aid kit.” Ren left the station, returning a moment later with a red-cross-emblazoned white box.
“I told Ms. Foris it wasn’t bad. If she saw your hand, she’d try to send you to the hospital for stitches.”
I stuck my gushing hand under the stream of water from the faucet.
“Make sure you get all the pieces. The wounds will close fast, and you don’t want glass trapped under your skin. I had that happen once; it hurts like hell.”
“Thanks,” I replied wryly. “I think I can manage.”
He handed me a paper towel when I withdrew my hand from under the faucet. I checked the gashes for remaining shards and then pressed the towel against my palm.
“How did you break the beaker?” Ren leaned against the table, frowning at me. “I’d say you don’t know your own strength. But you most definitely do.”
“I heard some shocking news.” I extended my uninjured hand toward him, expecting that he’d hand me the gauze.
“Let me.” He took my marred palm in his fingers and began to dress the wounds. “What news?” he asked, gently taping squares of filmy cotton to my palm.
“That I have a date for the Blood Moon Ball.” I tried to sound offended but was distracted by the soft touch of his fingers on my skin. “I didn’t realize you were telling people we’re dating.”
He examined my bandaged hand and then stood up. “Yeah. It seemed like the appropriate response at the moment. It’s not like I can send wedding invitations out to all my exes. Anyway, it will get the word out so I won’t have to be turning girls down for the next three weeks.”
I snorted. “You think more girls are going to ask you?”
He looked up at me, smiling. I pulled my eyes from his teasing face and glared at the floor.
Of course they would.
He walked to the trash can. When he returned to our lab station, where I stood with my hands on my hips, he abruptly tensed.
“Calla, did you honestly think I’d still be dating other girls between now and the union?”
I turned away, no longer able to meet his eyes. “I have no idea.”
“Well,” he growled, “I’m not.”
He began to put our supplies into the cabinet, slamming the wooden door shut with such force that I jumped.
“I’m sorry to lay such a heavy burden on you,” I said, clenching my fists and wincing as my injured palm throbbed.
“What are you talking about?” His head whipped around.
A loud clearing of someone’s throat turned my gaze from Ren to the end of our station. Shay stood there, eyes burning with blatant dislike as they settled on my lab partner.
“Excuse me, Ren.” He spoke through clenched teeth. “Would you mind if I spoke to Calla alone?”
Ren moved toward Shay, looking him slowly up and down. When the other boy squared his shoulders
, I could see the Bane alpha fighting not to laugh. “That’s really up to Calla.”
Shay glanced at me; the angry cut of his mouth dissolved into a grimace. I shifted uneasily, looking from Ren to Shay.
Ren suddenly grabbed his bag. “No problem. She’s all yours.”
My heart lurched. “No, wait!” I said, catching his hand in mine.
The alpha stilled as I turned toward Shay.
“You and I have nothing to discuss.” I watched my words cut him like the broken glass that had sliced my own palm.
Shay’s fists balled up when I drew Ren’s arm around my waist.
“Walk me to lunch?” The bell rang as the words passed my lips.
“Of course.” He guided me away from our station, leaving Shay fuming at the table.
When we were out of the classroom, Ren glanced at me. “What was that all about?”
I felt a twinge of disappointment when he dropped his hand from my waist.
“Nothing.” I had to fight not to tremble as I formed the lie. “He’s just a little starstruck after the ‘muggers’ attacked us on Friday. Been hovering around me too much.”
“Is he bothering you?” he asked.
“Come on, Ren.” I lightened my tone. “He’s the Keepers’ boy; you can’t bully him. Besides, you know I can kick his ass just as easily as you could. He’s a little annoying, but it’s no big deal.
“Anyway . . .” My heart picked up speed. I still didn’t trust Shay’s desire to get closer to me, but I couldn’t deny that I enjoyed his attention. “He’ll get the right idea now that the word’s out that we’re dating.”
Ren pulled up, catching my upper arms in a gentle grasp. “You’re going to start calling me your boyfriend?”
“If you think it’s a good idea.”
“If I think it’s a good idea?” He ruffled his hair with one hand. “I just don’t get you, Lily.”
When we arrived in the cafeteria, our packmates had already congregated at our usual tables. Seven young wolves laughed at Neville, who stood on top of a chair singing “If I Were a Rich Man” at the top of his lungs. He was dressed in his regular open-mike-poetry all-black ensemble, making it one of the most bizarre scenes I’d ever laid eyes on.
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