by May Dawson
“How’d you learn to be useful?” I asked Penn. I popped a can of Coke open and settled onto one of the stools at the kitchen island.
Mel hovered—as if she couldn’t relax while someone was in her kitchen—but I was always more than content to park myself on a stool and watch men cook.
“I used to cook with my mom.” Penn’s tattooed fingers danced over a row of cookbooks on the shelf before he pulled one out. He held it up. “This was hers. But I might be rusty.”
“Dad wouldn’t let him cook, really, after she died.” Mel yawed.
“Let’s not talk about Dad,” Penn said.
“Did you ever learn to be useful?” Mel asked me.
“In the kitchen, specifically?” The way she said that sounded petty, but I decided to let it pass. “Yeah. My sister’s mates do most of the cooking. I was pretty spoiled growing up, but they taught me too.”
“Your sister’s mates cook for her?” Mel asked, a judgmental note in her voice. “What does she do? Besides them?”
“Mel.” Penn’s voice was warning. “Jesus.”
I shrugged it off. From what Penn had told me about his sister’s situation, I wasn’t exactly upset that she was being kind of a bitch.
“I’m going to bring our shit upstairs,” Tyson said, pushing the chopping board covered in roughly cut-up onions and garlic over to Penn. “I’ll be back in a few.”
Penn nodded, as if he was giving his permission. I didn’t think he realized he was even doing it.
I followed Ty out to the car. He glanced away across the compound, the wind tousling his hair. The moonlight falling across his face lit his eyes silver.
He opened the trunk and tossed his overnight bag over his shoulder before he reached in for Penn’s.
I grabbed my bag as he reached for it. “Oh, no. I’m not feeding into this useless-Maddie-Northsea narrative.”
“Ignore her,” he said.
“I’m not mad.”
He shrugged one shoulder, his face taut, and I realized he was mad.
“What’s really bothering you?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he said. “Let’s eat, get some sleep. We’ve got a long trip ahead of us tomorrow.”
“Ty,” I put my hand on his arm. Tyson was always so easygoing, taking everything in stride with quiet strength. He seemed different here.
“Maddie,” he said, and a familiar note of mischief sparked in his eyes as he turned to me.
“It’s weird being home, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, you could say that.” He leaned against the car, crossing one booted foot over the other as he shoved his hands into his pockets. His relaxed posture was sexy as he gazed at the house. I couldn’t help twisting to look behind me, but there was nothing strange about the house. His gaze on it was haunted, as if he replayed dark memories.
“It’s not really my home,” he said after a second. “But it’s where I grew up. I lost both my parents when I was just a kid. The alpha let me stay there.”
“You and Penn grew up together,” I filled in.
“Almost like brothers.” A rueful smile twisted across his lips. “Except I couldn’t forget that the alpha killed my father. Sometimes I can’t tell if Penn’s all but forgotten, or if it haunts him too.”
“Must have led to some strained family dinners.”
“You could say that,” Ty said. “Speaking of strained meals. This one with Mel is probably going to be something too.”
“Yeah. She doesn’t like me.”
“She doesn’t like the idea of you,” he corrected. “She wasn’t always such a good girl, living up to what her father wanted and waiting to get married.”
Tyson almost sounded condescending. But if she never felt like she had a choice, no wonder she was pissed.
“I didn’t grow up like she did,” I said. “My pack always encouraged me to do whatever I wanted with my life.”
“It’s almost hard to believe they’re shifters.” Ty teased. Despite his light-hearted tone, Penn and Ty were locked into their roles, too, roles that they didn’t choose and didn’t necessarily want.
I caught his hand. Silas had a habit of holding my hand, just being light-hearted and silly, but the other guys had adopted the habit too, when it was just us.
Maybe it was supposed to be platonic. Maybe the guys meant it sweetly. But for me, Tyson’s hand against mine sparked butterflies in my chest and a throb between my thighs.
We ran the bags upstairs, then came back, still hand-in-hand. Mel looked up at us and irritation sparked in her eyes.
“Welcome to our pack, Maddie,” she said. “Dinner’s almost served. I guess you’re a princess wherever you go.”
“Knock it off, Mel,” Penn warned, a note of steel in his voice. “If you can’t behave, then get out of here.”
Her eyes widened. “Are you alpha-ing me?”
“Do I have to?” he demanded. “I don’t want to treat you that way. But I’m not going to accept you making my girl feel unwelcome and uncomfortable in my house.”
“Is she your girl or Tyson’s?” Mel flipped her hair over her shoulder and headed out of the kitchen before Penn could order her out. She called over her shoulder, “Enjoy serving her, Penn.”
His lips tightened, but he returned to stirring the creamy red pasta sauce on the stove now, which smelled delicious.
“Sorry,” Ty said shortly.
“It’s all right,” I said. “You’re right. It’s not really about me.”
“She’s just all fucked up,” Penn said. “I don’t know how to make things better.”
I was lucky. Despite everything I’d been through at the academy, I’d grown up sheltered from the misogyny that was rampant in other packs. I didn’t have a voice in my ear telling me that the way things were was how it should be, even when I chafed under the expectations for female wolves.
“Women are hateful to each other when they hate the world around them,” I said. “Maybe you should just try to change the world, Penn.”
“Yeah,” he said, his voice light, as if he thought I was making a joke.
But I wasn’t.
Chapter Eighteen
Rafe
“What else do you do with your wayward cadets?” Clearborn asked, but I didn’t trust his idly curious tone. I had a feeling he knew perfectly well what methods of discipline were available to the cadre.
“Besides restriction, chores, extra physical training, library hours during prep?” I asked. “We take them to extra hand-to-hand sometimes. All the fourth-years should be able to kick their asses or we aren’t really worthy to lead them.”
“And can every fourth-year ‘kick their asses’?” Clearborn made air quotes as he repeated my indelicate language.
“They should be able to,” I repeated. Of course there were some—like Duncan—who weren’t hard enough on themselves when they trained to be worthy of being hard on anyone else. I didn’t want to lie, but I didn’t want to play into Clearborn’s hands, either.
“They can’t,” Clearborn said, his voice satisfied. “I see. But you do rely on corporal punishment—if you can.”
Dread unfurled in my stomach. I didn’t like where this was going. Corporal punishment had long been a part of life in the packs—judging from his scars, Lex had been beaten mercilessly as a teenager—but when Piper Northsea founded the school, she left that behind. It had never been a part of life at the academy.
“I wouldn’t call our fights corporal punishment,” I said cautiously. “It’s training.”
“Dress it up how you like, we all know what it really is,” Clearborn said. “I imagine most of the cadre would have a hard time administering that punishment to someone like Jensen McCauley.”
If someone like Duncan took him into the pits, it was far too easy to imagine Jensen pummeling Duncan into next week. He’d probably relish the chance.
“Both Lex and I are capable, sir. So I guess it’s a good thing he’s in our patrol.”
Clearborn fixed
me with a look. “There’s a fine line between confidence and arrogance, Mr. Hunt, and I think you and your friend might have veered onto the wrong side of it.”
There was nothing to say to that. I tried to keep my face neutral, even though it was hard under Clearborn’s intense, penetrating gaze. He let the silence in the room stretch uncomfortably long.
“So first, taking a cadet to the ‘pits’ is a discipline method—if you can even call it that—not evenly applied to all students.” Clearborn said. “Second, some of your fellow students have gotten badly hurt in the process, haven’t they?”
“Yes, sir,” I admitted grudgingly.
“Third of all, it doesn’t even seem to be effective. Some of your cadets seem to relish a fight,” Clearborn said drily.
That was true enough.
“When what you meant to dish out,” Clearborn went on, “was a beating. No more of this vigilante justice.”
The word beating made me pause. “Sir?”
“From now on, the pits are for training. Punishment will be administered in my office or in the barracks in an organized and safe—though painful—manner. Perhaps that will have a little more impact on your cadets. And then you don’t even have to restrict them on the weekend, only to be ignored.”
His insinuation that the cadets in my patrol didn’t listen irritated me, but the unease I felt about this new punishment was far more pressing. “I’m not sure I follow, sir.”
“I think you will,” he said. He rose from his chair and moved to the big wooden wardrobe in the corner. He opened the door and drew out a leather strap.
He carried it back, draped across both his open palms. The strap had a wooden handle, and the ends were split into two, forming two long, thick leather tails.
Clearborn followed my gaze. “This is a tawse. It’s a Scottish strap for corporal punishment. As I understand it, it’s not used there anymore. But we’ve still found it useful in my pack for the younger wolves.”
The thought of whipping Jensen or Maddie—especially Maddie—sickened me. But I knew my squeamishness would hardly impress Clearborn.
“Sir, with all due respect, this isn’t what we do here,” I said. “We’ve never used corporal punishment, and we’ve turned out great shifter teams.”
Clearborn snorted, and I realized too late I’d misstepped. He asked, “Have we, now?”
I forged on. “These cadets are supposed to trust us—how are they going to trust us if we beat them?”
“Well, they’ll be able to trust that the rules do mean something,” he said breezily. “A perception that seems to be lacking at the moment.”
“You don’t get the best out of anyone by making them afraid. Our goal is to make sure they have the courage and the integrity to—”
“Oh, I very much disagree with you that you don’t get the best out of anyone by instilling fear,” he said, his voice biting. “Fear is an essential part of training, because I guarantee you will feel fear when it comes to the mission. And I promise you, as an alpha, I do have a bit more experience than you.”
He raised his hand, and I paused, holding back the words I wanted to say. “But I’m not the one who will use the strap. You will—you and the other cadre.”
My lips parted, and he went on. “There are two ways to look at this, Raphael. Either McCauley deserves to be punished, and you should be able to wield the strap without reservation. Or you know, deep down, that you’ve failed to set the example as a leader and enforce the rules.”
He leaned back in his chair, his eyes bright as he studied me. “Is that the case? Because if this is painful for you, that’s because you know deep down that you’ve failed them.”
“I’ve made plenty of mistakes,” I said, my voice clipped. “But I haven’t been too lenient with them, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
“I’m not suggesting it,” he returned. “That’s exactly what I’m saying has happened.”
“With all due respect, sir, I’ve seen McCauley and Northsea both grow considerably the past few months. We don’t need this.”
“Oh really, Rafe?” He rested his elbow on the desk, his posture relaxed. “Do you intend to give up your position as cadre, then? Because I can assure you, I have other young leaders who are open to new—or rather, traditional—ideas.”
Duncan’s smug, eager face rose in my mind, and I gritted my teeth at the thought. Duncan would be thrilled to beat all my cadets at any excuse he could find.
“If I were you, I’d prepare your cadets for Sunday night,” Clearborn said. “And I’d prepare myself as well.”
When I pictured laying the strap across Maddie’s narrow shoulders, something inside me flared into panic.
“They’ve already served part of their punishment, and it’s unfair to change the sentence now. If they’d known then—”
“Oh, so you admit this is a more effective deterrent than grounding them?” Clearborn cut in.
“You’re right,” I admitted. “They thought they were doing the right thing when they left campus without coming to me first. That was my fault. I take full responsibility for their actions.”
Clearborn stared me down curiously, and I took a deep breath before I plunged on.
“I should take the beating. It’s my fault. Then in the future, if they break the rules, I will use the tawse. I have no problem with that.”
“A very generous offer, Rafe, but I don’t think I’m going to let you out of your punishment.”
“Sir?”
“Punishing them,” he said. “You’re dismissed.”
There was more I wanted to say, but instead I said, “Good night, sir.”
I was almost dazed when I walked out of Clearborn’s office. It had been easy enough to go around Dean McCauley. I wasn’t sure there was any way to go around—or through—Clearborn.
When I headed down the steps of the building, I didn’t expect to find Jensen waiting for me. But he was there, leaning against one of the columns at the base of the stairs. He nodded hello and I nodded back, feeling something knot inside me as we headed together across the quad.
He’d waited for me as if things had changed between us over the past few months, and we were friends now.
It would have been easier to punish the spoiled boy I’d thought he was a few months ago. Now I knew the man he was behind the mask, fiercely loyal and competent. He reminded me of everything I’d admired in his sister Eliza.
Jensen and I fell into step together, walking across the quad back to Northsea house.
Finally, he asked, “So what did he have to say?”
“He thinks discipline around here is complete shit,” I admitted. “That the threat of restriction or the pits doesn’t hold any fear for you or the rest of the team.”
“Well, that’s true enough,” he said.
His tone was friendly, confiding, and frustration grated my nerves. I liked Jensen. I wanted to be friends with the version of him I’d gotten to know lately.
But I wasn’t going to be his friend Sunday night. “The academy’s returning to old pack ways. Corporal punishment.”
Jensen nodded slowly. “Inconvenient.”
“You’re up first,” I said, my voice coming out hard. “You and Northsea.”
“Yeah, I figured,” he said. “You? Or him?”
“Me.”
He glanced at me as if he wanted to say something, but whatever he saw on my face made him press his lips closed again.
We weren’t friends, no matter what we both might wish.
What mattered was that he and Northsea made it through the rest of their time at the academy, stayed out of trouble, and eventually graduated to join the Council’s Own, just like Lex wanted.
Maybe then we’d be friends.
If not, if they couldn’t get over the past, it didn’t matter. I wasn’t here to be liked.
Jensen was quiet, but he walked next to me anyway. His usual don’t-give-a-damn persona was in full effect.
But t
hen, so was mine.
Chapter Nineteen
Tyson
Mel rejoined us silently as we sat down to dinner. The four of us had a tense, polite conversation about what had happened while Penn and I were away at school. Two new babies had been born this fall—both boys—and the crops were coming in well. At least our pack didn’t just deal in crime and strippers.
“I’m going to take a minute to enjoy this,” I told Penn as he grabbed my plate to bus the table at the end of our meal.
He quirked an eyebrow at me. “All right, weirdo.”
When Maddie carried the rest of the plates out ahead of him back to the kitchen, he touched his free hand to the small of her back. My brief moment of satisfaction at Penn serving me instead of me serving him—for once—flickered into irritation.
Well, jealousy.
“The two of them seem cute together,” Mel said. There was a glint in her eye that I didn’t care for.
I leaned back in my chair, tilting it onto its back legs.
“Don’t you think so?” she pressed. “How long have they been together?”
“Does it matter?” I asked wearily, trying to refuse her bait. “Wolves know.”
“I’m not sure they always do,” she said. Her eyes studied me curiously. “You want her to look at you the way she looks at Penn.”
Yup. “Mel, don’t.”
“I’m not trying to hurt you,” she said, which seemed like a lie. “I’m just trying to get you to wake up.”
“Oh, really? Out of the kindness of your heart?”
“The two of them have each other,” she pressed. “And you and I could have each other again.”
“It was good while it lasted,” I said. I leaned forward, letting the feet of my chair slam down into the ground. Bringing my face close to hers, I said softly, “Don’t ruin it now, Mel. All the good memories. Don’t light them on fire now.”
“I thought we could make new good memories.”
In a second, she leaned into me, brushing her lips across mine.