Beneath the Skin

by Amy Lee Burgess

  ceremony where it became free form and you could say what you wanted.

  The Belgians and French woman were in tears as they exchanged boxes. Tears of joy and love. They embraced and kissed and helped each other put on their pendants, each with three stones. Then they were a triad.

  I didn’t say anything when I handed Murphy the shell box. It was warm from my hands and he ran a finger over the domed lid, his face thoughtful as he regarded it.

  “How did you know I always wanted a shell box?” he murmured, but he was talking

  mostly to himself. He lifted the lid and took out the pendant. It was on a basic silver chain, one he could replace with something nicer if he wanted. It was long enough so he could put it over his head without unclasping it.

  I’d chosen a peridot for the setting, but he’d supplied his own birthstone. It was a beautiful pearl. Maybe that’s why, subconsciously, I’d chosen the shell box--an ocean theme.

  I’d given up my peridot in its single setting and now when I opened the rectangular pewter box I saw it had been put into a double setting, paired with another lustrous pearl.

  When a child was born, the mother chose a stone for her child. Modern fashion dictated that birthstones were chosen, but it hadn’t always been that way. My mother had chosen my peridot and I would use it in every pendant I ever wore. Single when I was growing up, a double when I bonded with Grey, a triad when Elena joined us, back to a single, and now this double.

  The pearl Murphy had chosen was large and almost perfectly round. Expensive. I’d

  chosen a nice peridot--not the biggest one that had been for sale, but not the smallest, either. It had a particular dark greenness to it that pleased me. My fingers had gone straight for it when I’d been shown a velvet tray full of jewels. As with the boxes, there were always people with birthstones to sell at Gatherings.

  The pendant was suspended from a fine link silver chain that was nicer than the chain I usually wore by day. I unclasped it and Murphy watched me fasten it. He held the pewter box.

  He wouldn’t meet my gaze, and I thought that meant he was having second thoughts

  about bonding with me. We should be looking at each other instead of anywhere but. We should be smiling, laughing.

  Ducharme watched us, her beady eyes full of acrimonious pleasure. Bitch.

  Allerton watched us too. He smiled, but not with any malicious intent. He seemed

  genuinely pleased at our bonding. I couldn’t understand why.

  After the ceremony, we were shown to our tables for the feast.

  Of course Murphy and I had nobody to sit with us, because neither of us had a pack.

  It was a table for ten set for two. Pathetic, but at least I could watch the fountains.

  “You’re not eating much,” Murphy said, his first words to me as a bond mate. Terribly auspicious.

  I reached out for the wine bottle and refilled our glasses.

  The food was delicious: game hen and a variety of vegetables, French bread and real butter, cheese, pâté, foie gras.

  I choked down a few bites of the game hen and concentrated on my wine. It was red and it tasted like darkness tinged with chocolate.

  There was lots of water on the table, of course, in case we wanted to shift later. I hoped we would. Even though I would have to explain my wolf, returning to wolf form regularly would be the best thing this bonding would bring into my life. I could almost taste the wind in my mouth.

  I put my wineglass aside and drank some water.

  “Those cookies look really good.” I craned my neck to look at the dessert table nearby.

  “You want some?”

  He nodded. A slightly relieved smile ghosted across his mouth.

  As I pondered and picked over the macarons and other French cookies, I realized we’d sat in absolute silence for the entire meal, almost an hour.

  “I’ve lived alone too long I think,” I said, returning to the table with two plates--one piled high with cookies, the other with a huge slice of Black Forest chocolate cake. “I don’t talk to myself. At least not out loud. Sorry if I ignored you during dinner.”

  “I’m not exactly talking your head off, either.” His eyes lit up at the sight of the cake.

  Somehow I had known Murphy would like Black Forest chocolate cake.

  I crammed a bright green pistachio-flavored macaron into my mouth and it melted on my tongue. I quickly followed with a raspberry pink one. Murphy attacked the cake.

  “Where are we going to live?” I wondered, debating whether I wanted a lemon or

  chocolate-flavored one next. “Where do you live, by the way? I don’t even know.”

  “Belfast,” he answered. “Well, the outskirts, anyway. What about you? Boston, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah. I own a condo in the Brighton area. It’s small but I love it.” I chose the chocolate macaron and crunched it between my teeth.

  “I’ve got a cottage,” he confided. “Old but updated.”

  “Room for two? My condo’s technically got two bedrooms, but the second one is tiny as hell. Office space mainly. You like Boston?”

  “Never been,” he admitted. “You’ve been to Ireland?”

  “Ha,” I said. Would he share just one bite of his cake? “This is the first time in my life I’ve been outside America.”

  “France,” said Murphy in a disparaging voice. “You can’t compare France to Ireland, Constance. Where do you want to live?”

  “Well, I thought Ireland since that’s where your pack is. It’s a sure bet my old one won’t have me back. Maybe we could keep my condo and visit Boston sometimes?”

  “Sure,” he agreed with a pensive smile. “About my former pack, Constance...”

  He broke off then, because Councilor Allerton pulled out one of the eight empty chairs around our table and invited himself to sit down.

  A waiter rushed over with coffee and brandy, and I went back to the dessert table to get Councilor Allerton crème brûlée. I got another piece of the Black Forest cake while I was at it and put it down in front of Murphy.

  “Share this one with me?” I declared more than asked. He handed me a fork and grinned.

  “I’m glad to see you two are finally smiling. I thought I was attending a wake instead of a bonding ceremony there for a moment.” Allerton lifted his coffee cup and gave us a genial look before he took a swallow.

  “The couple next to us weren’t smiling, either,” Murphy pointed out. He grinned a little to soften his words.

  “Sarah and Lucas,” I said. “Their packs are combining. They’re the bridge. She just about hates him, and I don’t know what he thinks, except I’m sure it’s mostly about possession and very little about how she feels about anything. I told her to sever ties on her birthday and leave the pack. Screw them. She can find something better at a Regional. Or be alone for that matter.”

  “Not many of us do well on our own, Constance,” mused Allerton. “I must say your

  counsel was not very, shall we say, diplomatic.”

  “I leave all that diplomacy shit to you on the Council.” I shrugged. Murphy nearly

  choked on a bite of cake. He’d already eaten half of the second piece, the pig. I took a big forkful and ate it just to make sure I got at least one taste. That’s when I understood why I never got any of the first piece.

  “Holy shit, this is good,” I said with delight. Murphy pushed the plate toward me.

  “Nevertheless, Constance, in view of your own circumstances, I would be less inclined to offer advice like that in the future.” Allerton didn’t think anything I’d said was funny. He put down his coffee cup and glared at me as a ripple of unease slid down my spine.

  I put my fork down.

  “My own circumstances being what? Forced into bonding with somebody I don’t even

  know? Or because everyone around me seems hell-bent on dropping dead?”

  Murphy’s face became shuttered and Allerton stared at me.

  “You were n
ot forced, Constance.”

  “Next best thing, Councilor.”

  “Would you have preferred the alternative?” His eyebrows drew together, and another shiver went down my spine. The cake and cookies sat like lead in the pit of my stomach.

  “I don’t see why she should be so unhappy. She told me her mother made her bond with Lucas. My mother never made me bond with anybody. I did what I wanted. We should all be able to do what we want.”

  “Well, that may be true, but life is not fair, Constance, is it?” Allerton leaned across the table and took me by the wrist. He gave me a little shake, much like an adult wolf would give a puppy. It was a warning. Back off, little one. “Sometimes sacrifice is necessary for the greater good, and rather than wallow and feel sorry and resentful for the sacrifices that may be required of us, why shouldn’t we strive to be graceful about them? Rise above them? Make them work for us instead of against us?” He shook my wrist again. Harder.

  “What is happiness, Constance? Our birthright? Or something we work for? Something

  we’re rewarded with or something we are owed? The pack is made up of individuals, but there is also the Pack, is there not? The collective? The essence of every member bound up into one thing? Rather than rot and die, Sarah’s pack has chosen to align with another, a stronger one.

  And in doing so, they will survive, they will stay together and they will all grow richer for the association. Unless, of course, Sarah chooses to become a martyr and then the rot will grow and fester. The whole pack may dissolve, not just her original part of it.”

  I bit my lip and was silent. I knew I had a chip on my shoulder when it came to doing what was expected of me. My parents had been incredibly disappointed when I’d left to join Riverglow rather than stay with Mayflower. I’d been the fifteenth generation from the original Alpha pair, and from birth I’d been destined to be Alpha of Mayflower and produce the sixteenth generation. Instead, I’d thrown it all away on purpose. There were reasons and I still thought they were good ones, but it was always with me, the repercussions of my past decisions, which had been fueled by rebellion.

  Chastened, I wondered if I had let my own past circumstances influence what I’d said to Sarah. Perhaps Councilor Allerton was right--I should have supported her in a different way and not fomented rebellion. How had it worked for me? Sure, I’d been very happy with Grey and Elena for a decade, but when they were gone I’d had nothing left. Perhaps if I hadn’t burned so many bridges I might have had support the past two years.

  “You were happy with Grey and Elena, I understand that. You were given a great gift, Constance, one you may never receive again. Ever. But will you spend your life mourning this gift, because you might not get it again, or celebrating the fact you had it at all?” He let go of my wrist and pushed back his chair.

  “I wish both of you the best of luck in your bonding and I know you will do good things together, not because I wish it, but because of who you are. Good night.”

  He walked over to the table of Belgians and they made room for him, their faces growing solemn with the honor of his singling them out.

  “I remember Gatherings where the closest I ever got to a Great Council member was

  craning my neck over a roomful of people and feeling awed if they even glanced in my direction,” I muttered

  Murphy snorted with laughter. “The problem with Council members is they are not all bark and no bite. They bite. And when they do, you mostly deserve it. Except that bitch from hell, Ducharme, of course. I have no idea what her problem is, and I hope I never find out.” He pushed the cake plate back in front of me.

  “Eat more, Constance. Don’t let him ruin this for you. Dessert’s been the highlight of your whole experience tonight. End it on a high note. Finish the cake.”

  I ate a bite because he wanted me to, but I really felt more like sinking into a hole and never coming back out.

  After the food was cleared away, there was dancing.

  Murphy and I watched, making sure not to look at each other and so be forced onto the dance floor together. My heart beat in a rapid rhythm against the tempo of the music, which continued to wind down, heading for the inevitable slow dance.

  As if I’d summoned it, the lights dimmed even more and Madonna sang Crazy for You.

  Oh, Rudi, I thought to myself. The man who sat beside me was a stranger and yet I wore his pendant around my neck. What had I done? What the hell had I done?

  I must have made a sound, because Murphy leaned closer to ask what was wrong.

  “Do you want to go up to the room?” I asked him, desperate to get out. If not for

  whatever had happened to him at the Great Hunt, I would be sitting here tonight with Rudi and Lucy and all their pack. And we’d be laughing together and happy. If Rudi and Lucy had sat next to me instead of Murphy this song would have been absolutely perfect.

  Instead it was a freaking nightmare. I put my hand over my mouth and shut my eyes

  against the onslaught of grief that caught me by terrible surprise. It was almost as devastating as what I’d felt after Grey and Elena had been killed. I couldn’t help thinking maybe I’d made a horrible mistake to bond with Liam Murphy. The damned song played on and on while Murphy sat there and stared, because he didn’t understand me. Of course he hadn’t been there that night when I’d danced to this song with Rudi. He couldn’t know.

  He smelled my despair--I saw it in his expression. His dark eyes were gentle and

  reassuring as he scanned my face.

  “Come on.” He touched my arm as he rose to his feet, and I felt absurdly grateful,

  because he didn’t ask me what was wrong. I didn’t really know myself. I followed him from the ballroom, leaving the music and happy people behind. Murphy seemed to know where we were going, which was good because I didn’t. As we walked, I hoped someday we’d be happy together like the people in the ballroom.

  Make the best of what you’ve got, Constance, I told myself. Don’t make this man regret his generous impulse. This is your new start. A second chance. Don’t blow it.

  Chapter 6

  “Wow,” I said, doing a double-take when Murphy opened the door to the room we’d

  been given. All of us who had bonded tonight had been offered bedrooms in the chateau, and the one Murphy and I had been assigned was a far cry from the tiny little airless broom closet I’d been cramped in for the past two nights.

  It was huge for one thing. The ceilings were massive and decorated with strips of gold.

  Two chandeliers glittered--one over the enormous bed and the other by the floor-to-ceiling windows. A sofa, two armchairs, a scrolled desk, a flat-screen television, an ornate bureau, gold draperies that fell to the floor in puddles of silk and a fireplace. A fire leaped behind a scrollwork screen.

  An oval mirror adorned the center of the mantel and was tilted to take in every corner of the bed. Lothario would have been proud to call this room his own.

  The attached bathroom featured a sunken whirlpool tub big enough for two.

  “It’s not heart-shaped, but what the hell,” I called out to Murphy who prowled around the bed, his brow furrowed in a thoughtful manner.

  Away from the music and ballroom, my equilibrium was restored. The grief and doom

  that had enveloped me like a shroud receded and left me with a feeling of near euphoria. I supposed leaping from one extreme to the next was hardly healthy, but I’d take the giddy high any time over the soul-sucking low.

  “There’s bubble bath, though. You want to take one with me, Murphy?”

  I knew I was being forward, but the man was my bond mate and I had to start

  somewhere. Plus, Allerton was right. I was a spoiled little bitch and I needed to get a grip before I poisoned everything and everyone around me.

  “Murphy?” I called his name again, because he didn’t answer me. I went to the bathroom door and saw him opening the door to the hallway. “You going somewhere?” For what, though?
/>   There was champagne and lots of water and a bowl of fruit and even more macarons. We didn’t need anything.

  “I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow, Constance,” he said in a strange voice and the door closed behind him.

  “Breakfast,” I repeated as if I’d never heard that word before in my life. The gloom tried to come back, but I wouldn’t let it. Instead, a creeping numbness deadened my heart and head.

  I took a bubble bath, anyway. Alone. And drank the whole bottle of champagne.

  Woozy and with a slight feeling of unreality, I staggered naked to the bed and more fell on the damn thing than lay on it.

  I was just about to pass out when I heard them outside. The Belgians and French girl.

  Howling. Shifted.

  “Lucky bas’ards,” I muttered thickly then I did pass out.

  The next morning was not pretty. I spent the first part of it puking into the regal porcelain toilet bowl next to the sunken bathtub. Then I took a shower in the tile-and-glass shower stall with the European rain shower head. Then I threw up again.

  Someone had brought my clothes to the room and I put on my jeans and the sweater I’d worn for three days now thanks to the fact I’d been a near prisoner. Wet hair hanging in my face, I spent thirty-five horrible minutes trying to find my pendant.

  I’d thrown it at the wall while waiting for the tub to fill. I’d have thought if a person threw a necklace at a wall and heard it hit it be would relatively easy to find the necklace the morning after. Especially when the curtains were open and the vile sunlight poured into the room like an invading army, illuminating every damn thing around except, of course, the necklace.

  Eventually I found it tangled around the curtain rod. I had to stand on a chair balanced on the coffee table, then get up on tiptoe to reach it.

  I broke the chain in the process, luckily not my neck. I found my regular one in the bottom of my purse coiled up in knots that took me half an hour to unpick.

  To say I was rather late to breakfast would be like saying Columbus was rather late to India.

  There wasn’t even coffee left when I walked into the grand ballroom, Sarah’s black dress over one arm. My hair was mostly dry, but still annoyingly damp, I had no makeup on and my head was splitting.