by Leigh Evans
Cordelia swayed into the room, carrying a pair of jeans. “God, it stinks in here.” Trowbridge accepted the Lees and dropped the cell on the couch.
Biggs asked, “Did he have time to send it before—”
“Yes,” drawled Harry. “To some girl by the name of Brenda Pritty.”
“Who is she?” Trowbridge asked, putting a foot into a pants leg.
His new second shook his head. “I don’t know, but I’ll find out.”
The Alpha of Creemore flung his dreads over his shoulder again—oh, for a pair of scissors—and pulled the Lees up over his naked ass, then fiddled with the buttons on the fly. “Where are we on the moon cycle?”
Trowbridge hadn’t looked in my direction once since he’d shut the windows. Which, come to think of it, must have required some mental discipline since the room wasn’t that large. Why was that? Was he worried that one glance from him was going to send me sniveling into a handkerchief?
Look at me, Mr. Sweeten-the-pot. See my eyes? They’re bone-dry.
Harry lifted a shoulder. “We have one more night.”
“We should try to sneak out of town,” mumbled Biggs. “Before the NAW sends people.”
Lexi’s gaze was riveted on the puddle of sun potion by Trowbridge’s foot.
“Yes,” I said, with thick sarcasm. “Let’s do that. We’ll fire up the GPS, load the car full of hamburgers and dog treats, and take a family road trip.”
At that, Trowbridge gave me a quick searching look, then firmed his mouth. “No one will want to shelter us.” He tucked the phone into his front right pocket. “In the meantime—Harry, find out everything you can about Brenda Pritty.”
Biggs heaved a sigh and sank onto the stair’s bottom step. “Why did this have to happen? We were going along pretty good until the NAW got interested in us. Who rattled their cage?”
One of the Hedi-haters. Probably a Scawens or a Danvers.
“I didn’t get any sense of an Alpha power from Knox.” Harry scowled. “Though there was something about his scent … Cordelia, did you catch it?” When she shook her head, Trowbridge went over to Knox’s effects and uncapped the bottle of liquid. He took a sniff and then swore—rather fluently, in Merenwynian.
Lexi’s nostrils flared and then his shoulders shook in silent mirth. “Looks like I’m not the only Fae in this realm.”
“What is it?” asked Harry.
“Sun potion,” Trowbridge answered. “How did this stuff fall into the NAW’s hands?”
He looked at me. As if I’d been going back and forth between Merenwyn and Creemore with a tote bag and a guilty look. A sour taste filled my mouth.
I crouched beside my twin. “You okay?”
He nodded. “For now.”
“We’re so screwed,” repeated Biggs.
Oh so predictable. Biggs moaning doom and gloom. Harry’s jaw set, ready for action. Cordelia’s gaze shuttered, her thoughts her own. The pack outside, hungry wolves hidden inside human skin. Learn the way of the Were, I thought.
“No, we’re not screwed. There’s a way out of this,” said Trowbridge. “I have a mate, don’t I?” Then instead of turning toward me, his head swung in Cordelia’s direction. “Didn’t you help me say the vows?”
She flinched.
Enough. Too much collateral hurt. “You were dying in my arms,” I said, grateful for my sudden icy detachment. “So she did what she had to. Without my Fae blood in your veins, the portal’s doors would have closed on you and you would have died, just like Mannus.”
Pity about that, my gaze said.
“So,” he said, his eyebrows lifting. “Instead you sent me into the Fae realm for eternity.”
“Back then I wanted you to live.”
A flush crawled over his cheeks.
“Biggs,” he said. “Take the shotgun and the Fae to the kitchen. Shoot him if he moves.” Then he walked to the doorway. “The rest of us are going out there as a solid unit. Whatever we’re thinking in our heads doesn’t show out there, got it? There’s only way out of this, and everything depends on our solidarity.” The Alpha of Creemore favored me with a long look of anger tinged with male frustration.
I took his evil stare, wrapped it with silver paper, put a bow on it, and sent it back to him.
Take that.
“Come with me,” he said, too softly.
Chapter Seventeen
We filed onto the front porch, a Royal Family without the coronets, medals, and swords. Trowbridge in the front, me on his right, Cordelia and the others filling in the background. The crowd fell silent, except for two teenagers in the back. One of the Weres turned to shush them.
So there they are. My would-be murderers. A collection of plaid shirts, Lululemon yoga pants, and white T-shirts. The guy who’d wrapped the chain around me slunk back to the rear of the pack. A couple of the Danvers females returned my cool gaze with a belligerence that seemed crazy-ass stupid, considering their Alpha’s paw rested on the small of my back.
I allowed my gaze to roam over the rest of the motley crew, letting my eyes do the talking.
I hate you, each and every one of you.
It had been an exercise in futility—trying to learn the way of the Were. Every time I’d tried to mimic their wolfish ways, I’d felt foreign and forced. A lousy imitation hoping to pass. All thumbs and dumb confusion, trying to slide a poorly fitted wolf pelt over my own too tight skin. Fae Stars, I have a Were in my belly, and a Fae in my gut. On the best possible day, when everyone is getting along, my skin feels stretched to the point of ripping.
I don’t belong here. I never did, I never will. I dragged my tongue over the top of my lower teeth and it gave a nudge to my salivary glands—my throat still painful from the tears I refused to shed. Water flooded my mouth, and the ache eased a fraction.
“I am Robson Trowbridge, son of Jacob Trowbridge, grandson of Stephen Trowbridge, great-grandson of William Trowbridge.” The Alpha of Creemore snared my hand in his. “Who wishes to challenge my claim?”
His palm was callused and warm.
Nobody stepped forward—evidence that none among the pack had the balls or the wish to lose them. Though there were a few sidelong glances followed by lowered eyes. It’s all stealth attacks on the weak and wounded with Weres, isn’t it?
Rachel Scawens stepped out of the throng. “Welcome back, baby brother.”
He nodded. “Rach.”
“I want it to be understood that I am not contesting my brother’s claim to the title,” she said, more for the pack than for her sibling. “There is no one among us—man or woman—who is ready to challenge him. And as of yet, there is no Were among us who can fully demonstrate the authentic blue light of an Alpha, other than my brother.” Rachel eyed me for a second—all squinty-eyed and accusing—before she lifted her shoulders. “I acknowledge that. I just wonder if it’s time for the Weres of Creemore to stop thinking like wolves and start thinking like people.”
Good luck with that. Merry stirred inside my shirt.
No one hissed “Rebellion!” but the scent of the crowd sharpened. It frightened my inner-bitch—the last time we’d smelled this mixture of anger and anticipation we’d found ourselves tied to the old oak—and she sent me a silent plea to submit. Like hell. I locked my knees and stiffened my spine.
At which Trowbridge gave my hand a soft squeeze.
Screw you, Son of Lukynae.
Emboldened, Rachel continued, “Last night our new Alpha killed the NAW’s envoy, and then he led our wolves on the hunt for Knox’s men.” She shook her head. “I didn’t know their names, or what town they came from. For all I know, they could have family waiting for them. I followed the hunt because I was wolf, and my wolf wanted to please her Alpha. To her, those men were just…” A sick expression flitted across her face. “Prey. I’ve never hunted one of our kind before, have any of you?” The guy who called himself Tank scratched the side of his cheek and tried to look invisible. “This morning I woke up as me.” She thumped
her chest twice. “Me, Rachel Scawens. And it’s me who has to live with the consequences of my wolf’s actions.”
Bring me a hankie.
“What we did last night—what we participated in—will certainly bring the NAW to Creemore. And mark my words, they will extract justice for their losses. You don’t need to be psychic to predict that the next person to die in this town will be one of ours.” Trowbridge’s sister looked blindly at the ground. “When the bloodletting is over and you are mourning one of your children, the NAW will still be here. Trust me. They’ll use this opportunity to absorb the Weres of Ontario into Quebec.”
Anu yawned.
Trowbridge held up his hand. The left one—all perfect fingers splayed open. “My sister is assuming that our actions were illegal, and that we will lose in any contest against the NAW.”
“Of course we’ll lose,” she scoffed. “Look at us. We’re shopkeepers and accountants. Salesmen and factory workers. Our game is deer and rabbits, not other Weres. We don’t know how to fight against the NAW’s enforcers.”
“It’s never going to come down to a fight.” Trowbridge’s tone was unruffled and totally at odds with the beard, the dreads, and the scent of dominance wafting from him. “Everything my pack did last night will hold up when the Council reviews our case.” He raised his right hand—and therefore mine—high enough to lift me to my toes. Teetering slightly, I gazed resentfully up toward the symbol of our love and unity. Talk about imbalance, his paw nearly swallowed mine. “Hedi is my mate. We have said the words. For the rest of our lives, we are bonded.”
You could almost see the “uh-oh” thought bubble over the rest of the pack. “Shit. Time to backpedal. The bitch is back.”
Trowbridge lowered our hands. But he didn’t release mine and kept it trapped, close to his hard thigh, forcing me to either shuffle closer or lean into him. I did a reluctant hokey-pokey to the left. “The NAW asked for everything they got. They sent a hit squad to my territory, and their representative tried to kill Hedi. That amounts to a direct attack on me. As a mate, and an Alpha, I met their challenge with equal force.”
I smiled faintly at the woman who’d elbowed my head.
“It’s a clear case of self-defense,” their Alpha emphasized for those too dim to grasp the miraculous loophole being presented to them. Babble erupted until the guy from the insurance office pursed his lips and let out sharp whistle. He held up his hand.
Trowbridge nodded toward him.
“No disrespect, Alpha,” the claims adjuster began. “But that little wolf at your heels carries more of your scent than she does.”
I felt a sudden and deep kinship with every one of those political wives that found the inner resources to smile at the public as they listened to their dickhead husband explain how one call girl does not equal a marital indiscretion. It hurt to smile, but smile I did. Wider than before. Showing teeth and maybe a little gum. Yeah, Trowbridge, answer that—tell them about that little bitch who carries your scent and basically does everything but wear a sign saying, I’VE SLEPT WITH ROBSON TROWBRIDGE.
Trowbridge pinned the whistle-blower with a cold glare. “If I ever hear you call my mate ‘she’ like that again, I’ll take you out.” When the claims adjuster’s shoulders were sufficiently hunched and humbled, he continued. “The wolf’s name is Anu. She is a half-bred Were and does not have a scent of her own.”
Rachel smirked at me. “And why hasn’t she changed?”
Trowbridge shrugged. “Traveling through the gates has messed up our clocks.”
“But why’d you bring the Fae?” a woman cried out.
“He is not a Fae. His name is Lexi Stronghold and he is the brother of my mate. He was born here in Creemore, sired by Benjamin Stronghold. Ten years ago, he was stolen from the pack by the Fae, but now he is home, returned as part of our pack.”
Another round of murmurs. Then, because I’m part Were, I heard (probably as she’d hoped I would) one woman’s aside to Rachel. “I still don’t get it. Who is Anu to us? Is she another mate?”
“If you have a question about the pack, you address me. Not my sister, not anyone else.” Trowbridge’s thumb stroked my knuckle.
Seriously? I dug my nail into his palm.
Then the Alpha of Creemore said something that made everything in my world tilt sixty degrees toward WTF. “Anu is Lexi Stronghold’s daughter.”
I didn’t see that thunderbolt coming. Anu is my niece.
Rachel threw up her hands. “The NAW didn’t just come here because sh—” She stumbled on her words. “They didn’t show up here because my brother’s mate doesn’t carry his scent. They came here because the treaty has been broken. His consort summoned the fairy portal twice. Just how many times do you think we can get away with that?”
Anu is my niece, and she smells like Trowbridge.
“We keep propping open that door, and the Fae will walk through it. They’ll follow him back here, and then—”
“The Fae will come!” Trowbridge mocked softly. “The bad guys are coming. Be afraid. Did we ever worry about the Fae coming through our portals back when we were kids?”
Anu is my niece, she hates my brother, and she smells like Trowbridge.
The Alpha of Creemore looked around the group, eyes faintly narrowed, until his gaze lit on the large Were at the edge of the crowd. “Hey, Tank, how’ve you been? Do you want to tell me where the bad guys are?”
The Were in question chewed his lip, considering how best to answer the $64,000 question.
“The Fae closed the portal, not us.” Trowbridge’s voice rang with authority. “They don’t want any part of our world. The day humans learned to melt iron was the beginning of their exodus from our realm.”
“Yeah!” cried a male voice.
“Damn right!” called another.
“Well, I’ve seen them around metal and steel,” said the woman from the real estate office. “Your mate’s proof of that. Hedi’s been living in a trailer for half a year, and she—your mate—looks pretty healthy.”
“My mate is half Were and we’ve exchanged blood,” said Trowbridge without looking at me. “It has raised her tolerance level for such things.”
Not true. It hadn’t raised my tolerance level for Weres. The gauge on that particular measure was sinking closer to empty with every little hoo-yah from the boys at the back of the pack. Anu is my niece, she hates my brother, she smells like Trowbridge, and she can change into her wolf.
“You will not see another Fae walk through that portal.” Trowbridge’s voice rang with authority. “They’re demigods in their realm, not ours. There is nothing in our world that they want enough to stand the discomfort of coming here. This is our territory and shall always be our territory.”
All he needs is a horse and some blue face paint and he’d be good to go.
“Some of you have the ability to scent a lie. Test the wind for the truth. Do I lie?” The Alpha waited, posture easy, as the nose police did their job. One guy made a production of it, taking in a huge lungful of air that swelled his chest.
“He tells the truth,” nose police announced.
Approval rippled through the crowd.
“Your concerns about a Fae invasion are based on fear, not reality. We will be as we have always been. United!” Trowbridge’s mighty chest rose. “Wolves of Creemore! Kneel!”
And bam, they did.
Then the guy I’d bound my life to lifted our conjoined hands skyward one more time.
“I am your Alpha by birth and by right,” he said to his Weres.
They roared. A collective sound—very mortal.
“I vow to protect you and lead you.”
Some starstruck girl opened her mouth and let out a high, keening, plaintive howl. And that’s all it took. Their voices swelled, wolf songs from human throats. Silently, Anu padded over to where we stood, dead under the porch light, and sat down, her flank brushing my mate’s knee. Her tail gave a thump.
Anu is my niece, sh
e hates my brother, she smells like Trowbridge, she can change into her wolf, and she knows no fear.
I gritted my teeth, trying to maintain my balance on my toes.
“My mate and I will never leave you again!” their Alpha cried.
Then to me in a soft aside, “Will we?”
I jerked my hand free, and pushed my way through Harry and company.
And the pack roared.
* * *
The house still reeked of dead stuff.
I stood in the hallway, fighting the urge to run. It would be so much easier to scurry away than to stay. Oh Goddess, I need to run. From the pack, from a man who may or may not want me, from all the failures and miscues following me like a shaming trail of bathroom tissue stuck to my shoe.
Run.
In the past, it had been the answer to all that sickened and infuriated me—run. A sprint down the hall, fast as hunt-terrorized deer. A right at the end of the passage, a quick jaunt through the kitchen, and then straight out through the back door. I’d be halfway across the back lawn before the screen door slammed behind me.
But I couldn’t.
Not now, anyhow. Not while my drug-addled brother waited in the kitchen with a laundry list of problems too long to solve in a few hours. Even I, the girl who preferred to ignore the obvious, and run hell-bent from the painful, could understand that.
There were twenty-nine days before the next full moon when, supposedly, Lexi would turn glassy-eyed with moonlust. Plenty of time to make plans, to pack a bag, to purchase a road map … to leave if that’s what I really wanted to do.
How could everything have changed so fast? Yesterday I knew without question what I wanted: My One True Thing returned to me … And now?
My fury was a spoon stirring the stew of me—mortal-me, wolf-me, Fae-me. I needed to lift the lid and allow the steam to curl. Too many months had been squandered on keeping my dark urges—don’t lie, don’t steal, don’t rage—from escaping in a black, bubbling boil.
For what? my Fae whispered. For whom? Can I please come out now, too?