by Reine, SM
“Stripes was killed, but the pack is fine.” Seth hugged Rylie tightly. “I was so worried about you. You vanished.”
“I’m fine,” she said with a wince. The pressure hurt her scrapes.
Seth only just seemed to realize that she was wounded. His eyes widened into huge circles. “Why aren’t you healing?”
“I don’t know,” Rylie said. “I really don’t know.”
When the last of the fire was put out and dirt was spread on the coals, everyone moved inside. A lot of the pack was crying and angry, but if Aunt Gwyn was shaken, she showed no sign of it. She immediately bustled off to prepare coffee, which was her idea of being comforting.
Seth sat with Rylie on a few inches of couch and hugged her chilled body to him. She was strangely quiet, but he couldn’t exactly talk about her feelings when the living room was packed tight with werewolves.
The front door opened, and Yasir stepped in. He caught Seth’s eye over the crowd.
“Can I talk to you?” Yasir asked.
Seth gave Rylie’s shoulders one last squeeze, and then joined the commander outside. There was a light breeze and just enough clouds to keep it from getting hot. It would have been a beautiful day, if not for the destroyed barn.”
“What’s wrong?” Seth asked.
“You mean, aside from the obvious? It’s Stripes.” Yasir jerked his thumb down the road. “I found something while moving his body. Come look.”
The dead Union hunter was stretched out on a tarp in the back of the SUV.
Stripes’s throat had been torn out. It was fast and messy, but Seth had been dealing with so many cadavers in school that he only saw the anatomy of it—the mangled carotid, the digastric muscle, the glisten of his cervical vertebrae. If Pagan had gone a few centimeters further, she might have decapitated him.
“A megaira can do this?” Seth asked.
Yasir shook his head. “That’s the thing—they can’t. You saw her. No teeth or claws.” He pulled on a latex glove and parted the skin to show Seth where muscle had been torn away. “This damage looks like it was caused by an animal.”
“You mean Cain is a werewolf?”
“If that was Cain rescuing Pagan last night—yes, maybe.” But he was still very tense. That obviously wasn’t his only news.
He pulled Stripes’s shirt down, baring his left pectoral. The skin was rubbery without the flow of blood underneath.
Stripes had a tattoo of a bleeding apple.
“Look familiar?” the commander asked.
“That’s the same tattoo Pagan had on her neck.”
“Exactly.” Yasir covered the mark, mouth twisting with distaste. “We’ve had some hunters jumping ship from the Union. I thought it was normal defection, but what if they’re leaving to join Cain?”
“But if Pagan and Stripes were on the same side, then why would he have helped you interrogate her?”
“I can only guess. Punishment for getting herself caught? But someone wasn’t happy with Stripes, and it wasn’t Pagan.” Yasir waved a hand at the destroyed throat. “We should prepare ourselves for the possibility that a member of the pack may also be a follower of Cain.”
Seth’s head was spinning. A traitor inside the pack? “Nobody was missing this morning.”
“We didn’t see who attacked last night. It could be anyone.” The commander wrapped Stripes’s body in the tarp, removed the glove, and disposed of it in a biohazard bag. “I need to tell Union HQ what’s happening. There’s no way to hide Stripes’s death from them, and they’ll want to conduct their own investigation. So that means at least one unit out here.” Yasir shrugged. “Sorry.”
Seth blew a breath out of his lips.
“Okay. Do what you have to do.”
Rylie spent the next month doing two big things: recovering and avoiding.
The first one was the easy part, relatively speaking. The barn was a total loss, and healing from her wounds was mostly a matter of time.
She healed slowly—it took two weeks for her bruises to vanish. Much longer than usual.
The avoiding thing was a lot trickier.
Yasir brought the rest of his unit to investigate the fire. They brought two of the Union’s RVs, which gave the displaced werewolves somewhere to sleep, but it still wasn’t enough room. Rylie began spending her nights outside in a sleeping bag.
It was also hard to sleep when men who had tried to kill her two years ago were patrolling her home.
“This is a good thing,” Seth told her one morning when the unit was jogging in formation along the highway. “They can protect us better than I can alone.”
“But do they want to protect us?” Rylie asked.
He said yes, but he didn’t sound very convincing.
The Union wasn’t the only thing Rylie was avoiding. She was also avoiding talking about marriage—although Seth only tried to bring it up once or twice after the first night—and avoiding Abel.
And everyone was avoiding the obvious truth that was staring them in the face: it was time to abandon the sanctuary.
Scott Whyte flew out to help them file the insurance reports. He had gained weight in the last couple of years; he used to look like Sean Connery, but the rugged jaw had since gotten a few layers of fat over it. He looked more like Santa Claus than an aging James Bond.
“Nothing in the barn can be recovered,” he told Rylie and Gwyn. “I can arrange to have it bulldozed and rebuilt. But this location isn’t safe now. Cain has made it clear that he’s not afraid of attacking the ranch. We need to move everyone to the California sanctuary.”
Gwyn nodded. “There’s somewhere I can stay in the city.”
“You’re not coming to California with us?” Rylie asked.
“I don’t belong with a bunch of werewolves, babe. I have friends in the city.” Gwyn paused. “A girlfriend, actually.”
“What?” All of her other concerns immediately vanished at Gwyn’s confession. “You’re dating again, and you didn’t tell me?”
That would definitely explain all of her aunt’s mysterious disappearances, but Rylie didn’t have time to interrogate her for detail.
Scott stepped in.
“I should probably warn you now—Seth isn’t going to California either, Rylie,” he said, putting a heavy hand on her shoulder. He wore a thick gold thumb ring etched with pentagrams. “Not at first. I need his help finding Cain.”
“But he’s supposed to be going back to college in a couple of weeks.”
Scott’s bushy eyebrows joined together. “He graduated in the spring. He’s not starting medical school until next year.”
Shock washed over her, and Rylie shielded her eyes from the sun to watch Seth training with the other hunters on the opposite hill. They were all wearing black Union sweatpants and practicing fight moves. Seth was better than everyone but Yasir—he had grown up hunting werewolves, and even a couple years of college couldn’t soften those hard edges.
He had graduated. He was taking a whole year off of school. She felt a little dizzy at the realization.
Why hadn’t he told her?
SEVEN
A Promise
“I didn’t know that you already graduated,” Rylie told Seth that night. They were curled up together in a sleeping bag to watch the stars. Even with the autumn chill, it was far better than sharing a bedroom—and she definitely wasn’t cold while wrapped around her boyfriend.
It was almost the full moon again, and it sparkled on the water of the brook. They had chosen to camp in a valley where nobody could see them, and it was quiet, private, and absolutely beautiful.
Seth traced a line on her shoulder. “After everything that happened, I didn’t want to make you worry about it. I don’t want to pressure you.”
“How would that pressure me?”
He propped his head up on his hand. “I took the year off so that we would have time to get married.” Seth laughed at her expression of shock. “See? But I can wait. I really don’t want you to worr
y about it.”
She snuggled deeper into his shoulder, breathing in all of his warm, distinctive smells. Even when they were naked with their legs tangled together, he still smelled like leather.
“But instead of taking a year to plan a wedding, you’re taking a year to hunt down homicidal maniacs,” Rylie said.
He shrugged. “At least I’m being productive.”
“I don’t think I deserve you.”
Seth flung an arm toward their pile of clothing, which rested on a towel so it wouldn’t get too damp with dew. When he rolled back, he was holding the ring box again.
“When I bought this for you… Well, I wouldn’t have gotten it if there was a single doubt in my mind, Rylie.” He took the ring out. Her heart made a funny flop as he held it toward her. “I want you to wear it. Not as an engagement ring—not yet. But I got it for you, and it shouldn’t sit in a box.”
He slipped it over her right ring finger—not her left.
“I love it,” she said, tilting her hand to study it. The moonstone sparkled with starlight.
“Think of it as a promise. When you’re ready…” Seth touched her left ring finger, tracing a line around the place the engagement ring should have sat. “Just tell me. I’ll be back for you as soon as I can.”
“Do you know where you’re going yet?”
He sighed. “Yeah. There’s this house about three hundred miles away—near Akron. Scott thinks there might be information there.”
“Why? What’s special about that house?”
“It’s where Abel and I grew up before our dad was killed by werewolves.” He squeezed her hand a little too tight. “The connection between Cain, Abel, and Seth is too big to ignore. In the Bible, they were all brothers. The sons of Adam. Scott thinks that means that Eleanor is related in some way.”
“But she’s dead,” Rylie said. “I pulled her off the cliff on Gray Mountain and watched her die.” Seth only nodded. She considered the lines of worry on his face. “I want to come. Let me hunt Cain with you.”
“Rylie…”
She could already hear the argument in his voice, so she cut him off. “I’m not exactly vulnerable. I can change between human and wolf whenever I want now. I heal fast, my sense of smell is amazing, and I can fight. We can get him together.”
“But what about the pack?” Seth asked.
“They can survive without me for a few weeks,” she said. “They’ll have Abel, and he usually controls them during the moons anyway. I just make it hurt less.”
Seth’s mouth turned down at the corners. “What’s up with you and Abel lately?”
Rylie had no idea what to tell him.
She had been doing a pretty good job of avoiding Abel most of the time. They had barely spoken for over a month. She was too busy dealing with the sanctuary, and he was too busy dealing with the wolves.
But something had changed on the night of the fire. Something huge. When she woke up on the new and full moons, she was always curled up with Abel—and she had the feeling that they had spent all evening together.
“Nothing’s going on,” she said, but the words rang false, even to her.
Seth kissed her. It was sweet and lingering, and Rylie wished they could have kissed forever. No werewolves, no killers, no worries.
But it ended eventually, like it always did.
He rolled his weight so it was on top of hers. “I love you, Rylie. The thought of taking you hunting scares me. But if it’s what you want…”
“I want to be with you,” Rylie said firmly.
They kissed in the cold night, alone except for the nearly-full moon.
The ranch bustled with activity as the pack prepared to leave the next day. While the wolves loaded moving trucks, Rylie packed up enough clothing for a week and put them in the Chevelle with Seth’s bag.
Abel’s belongings were still in the trunk from the last time he used the car. She stared at his backpack and felt pained, but she wasn’t sure why.
She wandered down to the moving trucks and watched from a few yards away. Abel, Bekah, and Vanthe were doing the bulk of the work under Gwyn’s supervision.
Rylie thumbed the moonstone ring as she studied Abel. He was talking to Vanthe and laughing over something. He looked so different when he smiled. More like his brother.
He caught her staring and hesitated halfway into the truck with another box.
Something had definitely changed between them.
“Hey, Rylie!” Bekah called, waving a hand over her head. “Come help us!”
“Sorry, I’m busy,” she yelled back.
And then she retreated to the house like the big coward she was.
Rylie poured a cup of Gwyn’s extra foul black coffee, sat at the kitchen island, and stared at the steam swirling off of the surface.
One more moon before she parted ways with the pack. Another morning waking up with Abel instead of Seth.
“I’m not changing tonight,” she whispered into her mug. “I’m going to stay human this time.”
The front door opened and shut. Abel clomped into the kitchen, wearing heavy work boots that sounded like a sledgehammer blow on every step. “Where’s your box?” he asked, wiping dirt off his hands onto his jeans.
It was the first time they had spoken directly to each other in weeks. She longed to press herself against him and drink in all of his smells, but she stayed firmly planted on the barstool.
“My box?”
“The stuff you’re taking to California,” he said.
“I’m not going to California. I’m going to help Seth hunt Cain.”
Abel stared at her. She sipped her coffee.
After a moment, he left the kitchen without saying a single word.
Rylie didn’t spend the last full moon outside with the pack. She remained inside the house instead.
She stared in challenge at the moon through the window. She could feel its silvery rays prickling in her skin and making her gums itch, but she pushed it away.
You don’t own me.
Outside, the pack transformed one by one. Rylie exerted her control over them from a distance, suppressing their pain and making everyone shift smoothly.
Howls broke the night, echoing around the house.
She thought she heard Abel’s lonely cry rising above the rest.
Seth was helping the Union patrol the perimeter, which left her alone in the house all night. But she couldn’t get comfortable enough to sleep through the long hours. Her muscles hurt like she had the flu. Her stomach cramped. Her fingertips ached.
But she didn’t change.
The sun rose. The pack changed back.
And everyone prepared to leave the sanctuary.
EIGHT
Battlefield
They left in waves. First, Bekah and Levi went to the airport with Scott, and then half of the pack departed with a Union escort. By the time night came around again, everyone that remained was preparing to leave. They loaded the RV outside, leaving the house silent.
But Abel was in his bedroom, door closed. He hadn’t come out all day.
Rylie paced in front of his door. She kept replaying the moment that Seth kneeled in front of her with the ring, and the stunned look on Abel’s face before Pagan fired and all hell broke loose. And she thought about how he looked when she told him that she was leaving.
She raised her hand to knock, and then dropped it. She paced down the hall. Bit her thumbnail. Paced back to his door.
What was she going to do after she knocked? She didn’t have a plan. She had no clue what to say.
Rylie didn’t really want to apologize for leaving anyway. She wanted to apologize for being in love with his brother.
She stared at his door like her gaze could make it catch fire.
Before she could come to a decision, it opened.
Abel stood on the other side. He was shirtless, and his shoulders glistened. It looked like he had been pummeling his punching bag again.
He loo
ked at her. She looked at him.
Are you okay?
That was what she meant to say. But that wasn’t what she wanted to say.
She wanted to ask him if it was okay to leave with Seth. Like she needed his permission.
There was a disconnect somewhere between her brain and her mouth, and instead, all she could say was: “I’m sorry.”
Abel responded by grabbing her shoulders, dragging her into the room, and slamming the door shut.
He shoved her into the wall, and her back hit hard enough to dent plaster. His hands captured her face. She clung to his shoulders, unable to trust her ability to stand, but the burning brand of his fingers held her suspended.
And then they were kissing.
His mouth crashed over hers. He tasted like blood and meat, and it was so deliciously animal that her wolf rose to meet him.
Abel’s hands were everywhere—on her shoulders, lifting her hips, spreading her thighs. He pushed himself between her knees and all she could do was hang on as he crushed her to the wall with his chest and hips.
Her wolf should have been angry that he would manhandle her. That he would be so presumptuous as to take charge.
But it was happy.
It was Abel who shoved himself back, stumbling away from Rylie and leaving her suddenly cold.
She almost fell over, but caught herself on the end of Levi’s bed. Abel glared at her from across the room, breathing as hard as if he had just been running.
The reality of what she had done sank in.
She had kissed Abel.
And the worst part of it was that it didn’t feel particularly new or strange. It felt like something they had done a thousand times.
And her wolf loved it.
“Oh my God,” Rylie whispered, her hand flying to her bruised lips.
Abel strode toward her again, and she braced herself, as if expecting to get hit. But he only pounded a fist into the wall by her head. The already-weakened plaster cracked again, and she jumped at the sound.
“Goddammit, Rylie,” he hissed.
Her legs were jelly and every inch of her skin was hot, and she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. She also couldn’t seem to raise her voice above a squeak. “I’m sorry,” she said again, and she felt twice as stupid the second time.