by Sierra Dean
I wondered if Cash understood the likelihood that our kids would have my werewolf genes. And if they did, I wanted them to be a part of the pack. The choice would ultimately be theirs, that was how the Awakening ceremony worked, but I would never deny them the opportunity to be a part of this world I loved so much.
Realizing I’d been ignoring the grits, I quickly turned the heat to its minimum setting and stirred the thick light yellow mash until all the cheese and butter were completely blended. Once it was all mixed, I sampled it.
“Yum,” I said, unable to stop myself. The real cheese was much better than Velveeta.
“Don’t you forget who taught you how to cook.”
“Never ever.”
She had finished folding the bread dough back into the bowl to let it rise, so she came over and bustled me out of the way, sampling the grits to make sure I’d done all right. Her approving smile was worth all the compliments in the world.
“Good job, baby.”
“So, what do you think I should do about Cash?”
“You got any better offers?”
I thought of Wilder and then immediately banished those full frowning lips from my mind. Bad, bad Genie.
“No.”
“Then give him time. And you talk to him. Lord almighty, girl. All the problems in the world can be solved by talking them over. Either he can love you for who you are, or he thinks you’re going to get in his way. Doesn’t matter. Either way you know.”
Easy for her to say it didn’t matter. As far as I was concerned it mattered a whole lot.
“Now go on. I’ve got work to do.” She kissed me on the cheek and swatted my butt like she had when I was little. “Check the drink fridge. I hid something in there for you I didn’t want those boys down at The Den getting their hands on.”
The Den was our on-site bar. After too many brawls had started thanks to high-strung werewolves mingling with townsfolk, Callum decided it was smarter and safer to build a bar on his property where the shifters could drink in private. And that had been before the secret came out. I had been too young when I left to spend any real time there, and since returning from the swamp I hadn’t taken much interest. Technically, at twenty-one, I was only just now legally allowed to be in there, but that hadn’t stopped Ben from going years earlier.
I opened the fridge and pushed aside a carton of orange juice to find a band-new six pack of Abita Strawberry Lager hiding at the back.
“Oh, Lina, you’re an angel,” I squealed, grabbing a bottle of my favorite beer. I kissed her again and made a dash for the kitchen door with a bottle in hand before she could shoo me out.
Chapter Eight
I leaned my face against the wet tile in the shower, letting the hot water beat down my back. The still-cold bottle of Abita was clutched in one hand, the bottle’s surface now beaded with sweat from the steamy bathroom. The cool beer was a perfect complement to the shower, but it did make my head a bit swimmy.
Now that I was home, I felt safe enough to let my guard down.
How sad was it, though, that my guard had to be up at all? I was supposed to be living a nice, normal life, going to school, hanging out with friends. Yet none of those aspirations seemed to be panning out for me. If I couldn’t even drive home without fear because some psychos wanted to kill me, I couldn’t qualify my life as normal.
After what had happened in New York, with the dead coming to life and the world on the edge of complete destruction, I thought I had made it through the worst the universe could throw at me. I thought I was done with the monsters and the madness.
As much as I could be done when I was a werewolf myself.
The last thing I expected was to be confronted by monsters of the human variety. No matter how much I thought I understood the depths people could sink to, there would always be another psycho crawling out of the woodwork to remind me how terrible things could get.
I took another sip of the strawberry-flavored beer, smiling at the taste of summer on my tongue. This little reprieve couldn’t last long. The shower was one of the only places on the grounds I could get any real privacy, so I did most of my best thinking there. With all the male pack members in and out of the house at any given time, using the other bathrooms to clean up after runs, Callum had insisted I get my own private bathroom.
It wasn’t huge by any standard, an en suite with a tub-shower combo, but to me it was heaven. The one place I was guaranteed to have me-time, for however long the hot water lasted.
Tipping my head back, I let the water course through my hair.
What would a queen do?
While I wasn’t gunning to take over the throne the way Ben was, I still tried to imagine what Callum or Secret would do in my shoes. Okay…maybe not Secret. My sister wasn’t much for subtlety or politics, and her solution would probably be to meet the Church of Morning head-on, guns blazing.
As tempting as that might be, it wasn’t going to solve our problem. Killing a bunch of humans, however awful they were, would only succeed in making us look like homicidal lunatics.
But all the same, we couldn’t leave Hank to get killed. It didn’t matter how I felt about his opinions or his personality. It didn’t matter whether or not he was good person. He was pack and that was it, end of story. And he was Wilder’s brother.
Back to Wilder again.
I’d made it through most of the shower not thinking about him, but with a teeny beer buzz going, my internal musings circled back in his direction. I wanted to know more about him. Where he’d been for the last several years, why Ben hated him and what he was really like.
Yet every internal alarm bell I had was ringing with warning, telling me it was a bad idea to spend any more time with him than I absolutely had to.
And if common sense told me to do something, I naturally wanted to do the exact opposite. Go figure.
Of course, following our earlier meeting with Callum, I didn’t believe for a second Wilder was going to hold back and wait for the pack to act. I might not know the guy well, but I had a nagging suspicion he was already back at the garage packing a bag to chase Church members down on his own.
Or with you.
On a scale of one to “let’s do tequila shots!” it was the worst idea I could have had in the given circumstances. Run off with a complete stranger to save his racist brother from crazy people?
Where do I sign up?
I shut off the water and the air from outside seeped past the shower curtains and dimpled my skin with goose bumps. I wrapped myself in a soft towel and took another sip of beer.
Maybe the idea wasn’t as hopeless as I was thinking. During my time in the city I’d made connections with the type of individuals whose special skills would put Liam Neeson to shame. I knew Callum didn’t want anyone going after the Church for taking Hank, but he probably also thought there was nothing I could do.
I felt duty bound in two different directions. On the one hand I wanted to obey Callum, but on the other I knew a member of my pack was in mortal peril. If it was in my power to help Hank, wasn’t it my job as a leader of the pack to do that? Callum had said he would try to help Hank, but I knew his greater fear was protecting our public image. Hank might be dead before Callum had a chance to do anything diplomatic to save him.
Wilder would go, with or without me, in spite of what he’d told Callum. Ben, given the chance, would have no problem letting Wilder run off to certain death, but it wasn’t Ben’s example I was trying to live up to. What would Callum do? He would consider the risks and benefits to the pack. He’d find a way to stop Wilder from going, and he would sacrifice Hank if it became necessary.
But he’d also been willing to give Hank a home even after he’d strayed. My uncle might play the hard and mean dictator, but I knew he cared about everyone under him. If he’d taught me anything, it wasn’t to yield to his command but rather to think for myself. That might have led to us butting heads from time to time, but I
liked to believe he respected me for standing up for myself.
He’d brought me home to keep me safe. Now I was thinking of leaving again if it meant bringing another wolf back alive. Callum probably wouldn’t not understand my logic right away, but in the long run, if I succeeded, there was a chance he’d come to respect it.
After finishing off the beer, I toweled myself dry and went in search of clean clothes.
Maybe I was asking the wrong question. Perhaps instead of wondering what Ben or Callum would do, I should think of a different role model.
What would Genie McQueen do?
She would help Wilder save his brother.
Chapter Nine
The whole house smelled of roast chicken and garlic. Soon enough other pack members would start to come in for supper, and there’d be no escaping them. If they knew I was coming home, they’d expect me to be at the table when Lina served up the food, meaning I couldn’t run away yet.
There were other things that could derail my plan as well. Like my car being in Wilder’s possession, for one. Callum had several other cars I could use, but he’d want to know why I was borrowing one.
Being duplicitous wasn’t a skill I’d had a lot of practice with. With Memere in the bayou there’d been no reason to lie, and since I’d come back among the pack, I hadn’t needed to hide things from anyone. I didn’t keep secrets from Cash either because he knew what I really was. Lying was new territory for me, and my palms were sweating from nervousness.
On the plus side, the other wolves would assume I was freaked out because of the incident on the highway, so they wouldn’t mention anything when they smelled how uneasy I was. One of the major downsides to living amongst werewolves was that you couldn’t pretend you weren’t afraid when the smell of it was all over your skin like cheap perfume.
I followed the mouthwatering aroma of chicken towards the dining room, my stomach gurgling its strict orders to eat as much of Lina’s home cooking as I could before I split. I might look small, but like every wolf I knew I could pack away two thousand calories in a sitting without thinking twice about it.
I’d almost reached the dining room when a hand grabbed me roughly by the arm and yanked me into the library. I wrenched myself free and turned to lash out at my assailant, until I got a good whiff of him and realized it wasn’t a random stranger. I should have known that from the beginning since no outsider would be able to get inside the house without someone noticing.
“Jesus, Ben, you scared the hell out of me.”
He didn’t apologize, but he did drop his hand, not attempting to hold me against my will. I hadn’t seen a lot of Ben since I’d left for Tulane, but I wasn’t a fan of who he was becoming while he tried to climb the ladder to the throne.
“I’m assuming you have something to say that couldn’t wait until supper?”
“Stay away from Wilder Shaw.” He sneered when he said Wilder’s name, and I didn’t like his bitter tone. And I really didn’t like being told who I could and couldn’t spend time with.
There was a point in my life I would have listened to whatever Ben or Callum told me to do. I used to be meek and a world-class pushover. But I wasn’t that girl anymore, and it was time the men started showing me the respect I was due.
Then make them, a nagging voice scolded me.
“Sorry, that sounded an awful lot like an order, Ben.”
“Could you listen to me, for once, and trust me about this? Stay away from him.”
“I’d be more willing to listen to you if you gave me a real reason. Just glaring at him and telling me to steer clear isn’t good enough. Not to mention it’s insanely presumptuous of you to assume I was planning to spend more time with him. We just met.”
“Don’t play dumb with me. I could smell it on you when he dropped you off.”
I froze, my eyes narrowing at him. “Smell what?” If he said sex, I was going to punch him in the nuts so hard he’d never have pups or sing in a tenor again.
“Attraction. I could smell the wanting all over you. He’s beneath you, Genie. You’re a princess, which means you have a soul-bonded mate out there. Someone who isn’t a fucking mechanic.”
Ugh. “Snob, much? First thing, whether or not I’m attracted to someone shouldn’t matter to you. Period.” But, oh God, had Wilder known? Was it that obvious? Focus, Genie. “Second, if I ever hear you tell me to wait for my soul-bond again, I’m going to throw up. They’re not exactly common, and what’s more, I have a boyfriend.”
“The human?” He snorted.
“Wow. You’re really trying to insult me in every way possible today, aren’t you? You’ve never met Cash, so don’t give me that attitude.”
“I don’t need to meet him. He’s human. You’re not marrying a human.”
“You don’t get to decide that,” I snapped, my voice lilting higher than I’d expected it to. “You’re not my king. You’re my brother. And even if you were the King of the South, it’s not up to you to decide who I marry. Human, mechanic or otherwise.”
Ben looked stunned by my outburst. I guess he’d been expecting me to nod and accept his ruling like everyone else in the pack had learned to do. But he wasn’t the only one who had changed while I was gone.
“Are you really thinking of marrying the human?” He seemed surprised by this, and his expression was somewhere between pain and panic.
“I’m twenty-one, you idiot. I’m not thinking about anything beyond my finals and getting this whole Church of Madmen situation sorted out. Marriage isn’t part of my five-year plan at the moment.”
Ben’s relief was nakedly obvious. Did he think I had run off to Tulane to hunt down a husband? That was beyond insulting. This wasn’t 1952.
“Good.”
“But if I did marry Cash, I’d expect you to come to my wedding, shake his hand and be nice to his entire family. Understood?”
He nodded vaguely, because now that he knew it wasn’t in the cards, he didn’t have to keep any of his promises for the time being. And honestly it was becoming less and less likely Cash and I would make it to a wedding if we couldn’t even get past a full year without our problems coming between us.
“About Wilder, though…” he started again.
Damn, just when I thought I’d escaped this extra-humiliating topic where my brother reminded me he could smell my attraction. Gross.
I sighed. “I’m going to yell again. Do you want me to yell again?”
He put a hand on my shoulder, and I didn’t pull away. Skin to skin, I felt our connection like a physical tether. Touch was soothing between werewolves, especially those of the same pack. For Ben and me it was extra effective because we’d been soothing each other by touch since before we were born.
I softened, willing myself to listen. After all, he might have a good reason to not like the younger Shaw brother, and I should hear him out if he thought it was important. I might not agree with whatever he was about to say, but I owed it to Ben to listen.
“I get the feeling you guys aren’t on the friendliest of terms,” I said, hoping it would get him to the point faster.
“You missed a lot while you were in the swamp.” From the firm set of his jaw I could tell he was gritting his teeth.
“What’s the deal with him anyway? He can’t have been with the pack long if he came and went while I was away.” It must have been during the four years I was gone, but that was a short period of time for a wolf to stay with the pack. All the other wolves near our age had grown up with us, and I would have remembered Wilder. Hank had been with the pack even when I was a child, but not Wilder.
Seeming to understand why I was doubtful, Ben said, “Their family split them up when they were younger. Hank was the problem. I guess they figured being close to the king might straighten him out, which is why Hank was here when we were kids. It turned out Wilder had alpha traits, so he went to live in Shreveport with extended family. But about a year after you left, he came b
ack. I don’t know all the details. I think Callum was hoping Hank would feel less ostracized with family around, or maybe Wilder was being groomed to take over the Atlanta pack. I’ve never asked.”
“And?” Was this all because another Alpha was around? That seemed petty even for Ben. Something else had to have gone down for Ben to dislike Wilder so much. Part of me suspected this must have something to do with a girl, but the only eligible female their age was Magnolia. And she couldn’t keep a secret to save her life. If there’d been a man in her life at one point who wasn’t Ben, she would have told me.
“There was a girl.”
Ding ding ding ding ding. “Somehow I knew this would all boil down to jealousy.”
Ben narrowed his eyes, clearly annoyed with me for interrupting him. In spite of us spending so many years apart, I’d learned how to push his buttons like an expert since I’d returned. Both intentionally to annoy him, and often without meaning to.
“Would you please listen to me for a minute?”
“Fine.”
“There was a girl he and I went to school with. Her name was Holly.”
Was. The burden of the past tense made my heart clench, and I swallowed hard, already not liking the trajectory of this story. Ben looked sad all of a sudden, which wasn’t typical of him. He liked to keep his emotions checked at all times, but memories of this girl were causing him to slip. It made me nervous enough to not want to hear the rest.
But I had to.
“What happened?”
“She went missing. They found her a few days after the full moon, dead. Her stepfather was arrested and convicted, but…”
I knew the rest of his sentence, even though he drifted off quietly. The kill hadn’t been right, not quite human. And a dead girl in the woods after a full moon? We were all lucky no one knew about werewolves then, because all fingers would have pointed at Callum and the pack faster than someone could say howl.