by Lori Drake
Lucas scanned the crowd, then approached Joey. “You ready to get this over with, princess? You’ve still got twelve hours, if you want to drag your feet some more.”
Joey snorted. “I’m ready.”
“Great.” Lucas whipped his shirt off and rolled his shoulders, looking at Sam. “Let’s dance, big boy.”
Sam arched a brow, and Joey cleared her throat. “I, Josephine Grant, Alpha of the Grant pack of Seattle, name Christopher Martin as my second.”
That caused a stir amongst the assembled wolves, but Lucas took it in stride. His focus shifted abruptly to Chris, and he gave a cocky smile. “Sure, whatever.”
Chris stepped forward.
“This is highly irregular,” Elijah said from the sidelines.
“It’s not technically illegal,” someone else said.
Chris barely heard them. His focus was entirely on Lucas. Now that he was facing the little shit, his nerves melted away. All that was left was pure, self-righteous anger. His wolf gnashed its teeth and growled, and his skin tingled as his animal half tested his control. He stripped off his shirt and tossed it aside, then stepped out of his sweats. He hadn’t bothered with briefs. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone scuttle forward to collect his clothes and Lucas’s.
Reginald spoke, his voice carrying over the crowd, “The challenge has been made and accepted. The challenge begins on my mark, and ends when the first combatant yields or resumes human form.”
Chris locked eyes with Lucas and shivered as Lucas’s wolf looked back. He’d wondered if Joey was exaggerating about Lucas’s strength in an effort to dissuade him from taking up the challenge, but it seemed not. In the end, it didn’t matter. Wolf dominance wouldn’t end this fight.
“Alpha, are you ready?” Reginald asked.
“Yes,” Chris said. This was a lot more formal than his last Alpha challenge, that was for sure.
“Challenger, are you ready?” Reginald asked.
“Hell yes.” Lucas’s words reflected his wolf’s eagerness.
Reginald paused, then began the count. “Three… two… one… Mark.”
Chris dropped to his knees and called upon his wolf. Whoever shifted first would have an early advantage, because nothing said the faster wolf had to wait for his opponent to finish shifting. The familiar tingle passed over him as the primal magic in his blood transformed him from man to beast. It took only seconds, and when he opened his wolf eyes, he found Lucas still mid-transformation, crouched with eyes closed and the air shimmering around him.
Chris launched himself at Lucas with a snarl, but in the short time it took him to cross the distance, Lucas’s wolf appeared. Chris knocked Lucas sideways before he could get his paws firmly under him, and they tumbled across the ground in a tangle of fur and limbs. Ending up on his back, Chris curled and kicked at Lucas with his hind legs like a jackrabbit, clawing at his enemy’s thick pelt.
The kick was enough to make Lucas retreat, and Chris scrambled to his feet. They circled one another, lips curled back to bare sharp, curved teeth, and growled viciously. Lucas had a slight size advantage, but they were both young and fit. Lucas charged next, but Chris sidestepped and twisted to snap at his neck. His teeth closed on air. He spun and dug his claws into the earth, lowering his front half as he faced off with his foe.
Again, they circled. The crowd of onlookers was completely silent, fading into the background. Nothing mattered but the enemy in his sight. His mouth watered, longing to taste blood. Lucas charged again, but rather than dodge this time, Chris turned just enough to ram his shoulder against Lucas and knock the larger wolf down. Normal wolf fights didn’t involve quite so much wrestling—they were all about going for the jugular. But lycanthropes had just enough of their human consciousness lingering to be more strategic. Chris followed Lucas down, managing to close his jaw around one long foreleg. He bit down, hard, and was rewarded by a yelp and the taste of first blood.
Lucas rolled and kicked at him, managing to score a heavy hit to Chris’s abdomen. Chris’s jaw relaxed enough that Lucas managed to free himself and roll away. Chris quickly got his feet under him and pounced, landing on top of Lucas before his foe could fully recover. But Lucas twisted, and instead of closing his jaws on Lucas’s neck, Chris only scored his teeth along Lucas’s shoulder. Disappointed, he snarled and twisted his neck, jaws snapping as he tried to find his way under Lucas’s muzzle while they continued to roll across the ground.
“You’ve got this, Chris!” someone yelled, but they were swiftly chastened and silenced. Apparently, there were no spirit squads in Alpha challenges.
Lucas managed to kick him in the stomach again, this time hard enough that it stole Chris’s breath. They broke apart, and Chris struggled to his feet, gasping to fill his lungs with the crisp morning air and losing track of Lucas for a critical moment. Lucas bowled him over, knocking him to the ground hard enough to drive the breath right back out of his lungs. A stinging pain in his shoulder told him Lucas had finally drawn blood, but Lucas wasn’t content to stop there. Even as Chris kicked and tried to roll away, he clamped down and shook his head, tearing a painful gash in Chris’s hide. Chris yelped and squirmed, kicking and trying to pull himself free, even though it only caused more damage. When he finally did manage to kick Lucas hard enough that he let go, Lucas just turned his head and grabbed on to Chris’s foreleg, gnawing on it savagely until Chris wrenched it free and rolled away.
Chris got to his feet, but his chewed-up foreleg nearly buckled under his weight. He’d started strong, but things had taken a turn. Lucas taunted him, tongue lolling as they circled one another. Chris charged him again, but Lucas dodged the clumsy attack easily and shoulder-checked Chris, sending him sprawling, then pounced on him before he could recover. Lucas’s jaws clamped on his neck, and panic seized Chris’s heart. He kicked and clawed with all four paws, unable to risk too much squirming, lest he tear his own throat out on Lucas’s jaws. A growl rumbled from Lucas’s muzzle, and Chris felt it as much as heard it. The vibrations carried from Lucas’s mouth to his neck, a clear warning. Yield or die.
Chris finally scored a hard enough kick to make Lucas lose his grip, and the two set to rolling again. Chris tasted Lucas’s blood once more, and numerous cuts and punctures scored his own pelt as they vied for dominance. The fight felt like it’d been going on for an hour, but it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. When they broke apart again, Chris’s sides heaved as he fought to breathe. His chest ached in an all-too-familiar manner; he was pretty sure he’d cracked a rib, and he bled from too many spots to count. Lucas’s fur was wet and dark in various spots, and he was favoring one leg as they squared off again.
Chris didn’t have much left in him, but he wasn’t about to wait for Lucas to attack. He sprang at Lucas with a defiant snarl, just as Lucas charged. They both leaped and met midair, clashing in a flurry of teeth and claws. They hit the ground on their sides, and Chris scrambled on top of Lucas, going for his throat. Before he could clamp down, Lucas planted his hind feet against Chris’s stomach and kicked hard enough to send him flying.
He landed on his back, and stars exploded behind his eyes as his head connected with something hard. A rock? The ground? He had no idea, and Lucas was on him in a flash, his muzzle buried beneath Chris’s jaw, teeth digging into the tender flesh.
Chris was barely aware of it, dazed from the blow to the head as he lay there on the ground. The canopy of leaves overhead slowly spun, and darkness crept into the edges of his vision. He was vaguely aware of shouting around him, but the words were indistinct.
Then he was falling, falling into unconsciousness’ welcome embrace.
“Stop! That’s enough!” Joey broke rank and ran for Chris, her heart in her throat. It had been lodged there ever since he hit the ground, and the fact that he’d stopped fighting was like an iron band of fear around her chest.
Lucas still had his jaws clamped around Chris’s neck when she reached them. His golden eyes watched her approach
, and he growled, dragging Chris’s obviously unconscious body a foot or so.
Joey held up her hands. “It’s over! I yield. But so help me, if you kill my mate, you won’t live long enough to spend one cent of my inheritance.”
Although Lucas’s wolf probably didn’t give a furry fig about the money, he must have recognized the threat in her voice. He held her eyes for a long moment, then released his hold on Chris and stepped back. Joey was on her knees at Chris’s side in the blink of an eye.
“Chris, baby, can you hear me?” There was so much blood matting his fur that she couldn’t tell the extent of his injuries at a glance. She hesitated to touch him anywhere, but couldn’t not touch him. If he was awake, he’d need the comfort as much as she did. Her fingers brushed his furry ears, but his eyes remained closed. She fought back tears, not wanting to give Lucas the satisfaction.
Ben knelt beside her and leaned over to assess the damage. “Is he conscious?”
“I don’t think so.” She watched as Ben forced one of Chris’s eyelids open.
“He’s still breathing, and pupils are responsive. That’s a good sign.”
Joey stroked Chris’s head while Ben called for Sam to bring a towel. “Come back to me, baby,” she whispered.
She sensed more than saw movement ahead of her, and looked up to find that Lucas had resumed his human form. His skin was dirty and bloodied. Blood still dripped from numerous scratches, punctures, and tears in his flesh, and he held his right arm close to his body. It looked like… well, like a wolf had gnawed on it. There was no trace of his earlier bravado as he approached, looking down with a grave frown. “Is he okay?”
Joey launched herself at him in a blind rage, all fists and elbows and teeth as she drove him back from Chris’s prone form. It wasn’t until strong hands grabbed her arms and pulled her off him that she realized she’d completely lost control in a grievous breach of protocol.
Someone bent to help Lucas to his feet, but he smacked their hands away and stood on his own. The hands that gripped Joey’s arms held fast as Lucas stepped closer to her, meeting her gaze.
“I’m willing to overlook that this once, but attack me again in my territory and there will be consequences.”
Protocol be damned: Joey glared at him and held his eyes. Her wolf howled for his blood, but she kept that side of herself leashed. The air between them took on an almost electrical charge as their wills clashed. It wasn’t until Reginald stepped between them that Joey broke eye contact. The disappointment on her father’s face was like a shock to her system. She stopped struggling, sagging against the hands that held her and hanging her head. As if she weren’t humiliated enough, she then had to stand there and listen while Reginald declared Lucas the Alpha of the Grant pack of Seattle.
Joey wished the ground would open up and swallow her. She’d lost everything. Her home, her pack, and even her honor because she was stupid enough to go after Lucas once the challenge was over. She jerked at the hands that held her again, and this time they let go. After shooting a final murderous glare at Lucas, she turned and went back to Chris’s side. She stood there quietly while Sam and Ben carefully transferred Chris onto the towel.
“Josephine Grant.” The unmistakable formality in Lucas’s tone made Joey wince. “You and your… mate”—he spared Chris a disdainful glance—“are no longer welcome in my territory.”
“You won, son,” Reginald said. “No need to rub salt in the wound.”
Lucas ignored him and went on, “I suppose under the circumstances, I could claim the Granite Falls pack too, but… nah.”
“How magnanimous,” Joey muttered.
Lucas’s sharp eyes shifted her way. “What was that?”
Joey bit back the first retort that came to mind. “I said, thank you.”
Lucas’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded to her before turning to address the crowd. “Grants of Seattle, you have a choice: follow your former Alpha into exile, or—”
“Save your breath,” Sam said, as he and Ben stood, holding the corners of the towel being used as a makeshift sling. “We’re leaving.”
“So are we,” Lucy said, and the Granite Falls pack moved as one toward the back door—with one notable exception.
“Not all of us,” Jessica said, tucking her thumbs in her belt loops and remaining where she was.
Lucy and the others stopped and looked back at her, surprise plain on every face.
Jessica shrugged. “No point in backing the losing horse.”
“Jess, come on. You don’t mean that…” Lucy said, though her wavering voice betrayed a lack of confidence.
Meanwhile, Joey’s wolf scratched at the inside of her skin. She’d never trusted Jessica, not fully. Her loyalties had shifted too readily when Chris had deposed her previous alpha, and now the past was repeating itself.
“Oh, she does,” Joey said, not even trying to keep the disdain from her voice. Shaking her head, she followed Ben and Sam to the back door. She didn’t spare Jessica another glance, but Lucy stared at her packmate like she’d grown a third eye before eventually turning to go back inside with the others.
“Smart lady,” Lucas said. “I guess that makes you my second.”
Inside, both packs crowded into the mud room, going over the logistics of departing for Chris’s house posthaste. No one looked to her for leadership, though whether it was because she’d just lost the Alpha challenge or they were sensitive to her worry about Chris, she couldn’t say. Thankfully, they sorted it out amongst themselves before so many bodies crammed into the small room completely overwhelmed her.
Sam and Ben took Chris, still unconscious in wolf form, out to the car. Joey wanted to stay with him, but she needed to pack. She walked through the house on autopilot, like a hollowed-out shell of herself. She wanted to be angry, even sad. But as she walked through the halls of the house her mother had so recently decorated, all she felt was empty. She packed a bag for herself and another for Chris. Unsure if she’d be allowed to return for anything else, she grabbed a family photo album from her study and downloaded her mother’s lycanthrope database onto a flash drive. Then she deleted the file from the desktop computer and headed downstairs, holding her head high.
She was still Adelaide Grant’s daughter. No one could take that away.
16
Chris regained consciousness on the way to the car. Confused and alarmed by the press of terry cloth around him, he fought against it instinctively. Pain flared everywhere, especially in his head.
“Whoa there, little brother. It’s okay. You’re fine,” Sam said.
His brother’s voice calmed Chris, though he still didn’t understand what was going on until he felt the ground under him and the edges of the towel falling away. Chris rolled onto his belly, ignoring the flare of agony in his shoulder and the sting of dozens of scrapes, scratches, and tears in his hide. The world swam and he closed his eyes, inhaling through his sensitive nose. The damp air held a chill to it that tingled his nostrils. He smelled blood and pack around him, and it soothed him.
Memories of the fight came rushing back. Snapping jaws, vicious growls, the sensation of his enemy’s jaws tightening on his throat… He longed for unconsciousness again.
Ben crouched beside him, putting a hand on his flank. “Can you shift back, Chris? I can’t tell how badly you’re hurt.”
On an instinctive level, Chris didn’t want to shift back. His wolf knew the taste of defeat, and even if the magnitude of the loss was blunted, he knew it was there. But he couldn’t hide in wolf form forever, so he took a deep breath and shifted back.
Without fur, the air should’ve been cold on his skin, wet as it was in so many places with blood. Chris barely noticed, overcome by shame. He’d lost. He couldn’t even claim it wasn’t a fair fight. No, he’d fought hard, but, either through luck or skill, Lucas had come out on top. But the worst thing wasn’t the humiliation of lying on his back with teeth at his throat in front of his pack, his family, and their guests. It was t
he knowledge that he’d failed Joey so completely that he wouldn’t blame her if she never forgave him.
Ben eased him into a sitting position and examined Chris’s wounds. His shoulder burned like fire, and there was a persistent throb behind his eyes. His head felt too small for his brain, much less all the thoughts that crowded his skull. He rubbed his temples.
Words. Ben was speaking, but Chris had trouble focusing on what his brother was saying. They helped him to his feet eventually and guided him to the car. He got in the back seat and sat back, closing his eyes and fighting a wave of nausea.
You should’ve let Sam do it. You knew he had more experience than you. Joey needed a fighter out there, not a dancer.
The door on the other side of the car opened, and Chris braced himself before opening his eyes, expecting Joey to climb in. Instead, it was Ben.
She probably can’t even stand the sight of you right now. Worthless. Disappointment. Failure.
Chris fought as best he could against the tears that welled in his eyes, but he lost the fight when Ben began pressing thick gauze pads against his shoulder to soak up the blood that still oozed from his torn flesh. As the salty, fat tears ran down his cheeks, he closed his eyes, hung his head, and embraced the pain as penance for his hubris.
Ben squeezed an uninjured part of his arm. “It’s gonna be okay, man. Just a bump in the road.” It was like he could read Chris’s mind, but Ben had always had more empathy than just about anyone Chris knew.
The long drive to Granite Falls was somber. Chris spent most of it staring out the window, watching the landscape go by and half wishing the hunter would show up and finish him off. But the scoundrel must’ve slept in, because he made it to his house without incident.
When Ben jumped out of the car and ran around to the other side to help him, Chris waved him off and hauled himself out of the car with a wince. Once again dry-eyed and composed, he looked around as everyone else got out of their respective cars.