by Robin Moray
"Sure," Callum said, making a point to not look away from that sky-blue stare. And, of course, it made his eyeballs itch, but he ignored it. It's not like this was the first time he'd ever had some jerk try to stare him down.
Behind him Vera huffed out a breath that sounded annoyed as hell. "I'll come too," she said. They both turned to look at her, and she shrugged. "In case there's any heavy lifting."
Werewolf strength. Callum felt his face go hot and red. Right.
Hamish hesitated, but then, for some reason, he stepped back. "You'll get bored."
"What do you care if I do?"
Hamish snorted. "Fine. You've got ten minutes." He grinned at Callum, and it was unsettling. "You too, Kelly."
Outside the sky was gray and unfriendly, not yet wet but threatening rain later. Callum shuddered inside his jacket, glad he'd gone back for it but wishing he'd pulled a t-shirt on over his henley.
Somehow, Vera managed to get dressed and fix her hair and get out to the truck before Callum had finished his coffee, and was waiting for him, sitting up on the bonnet and playing some kind of colour-sorting game on her phone. She had her long dark hair loose under a beanie, a fluttery scarf tied high and tight around her neck, and a leather jacket that made her look a lot older than he'd thought she was.
Her boots, though, were more sensible than fashionable, and she arched an eyebrow at him in his sneakers. "How many pairs of shoes you plan on ruining in the woods?" she asked.
"It's not like I have a closet here," Callum groused, and she shrugged.
"Nero'll make space for you. When he remembers."
He stared at her for a moment, confused and then– She thinks I'm staying.
She wrinkled her nose. "What's wrong? You don't think he will? He's a good – he'd be a good mate, if you let him." Her expression hardened. "It wasn't his fault, with Holly. She–" but she broke off, head whipping around to where Hamish was coming out the kitchen door.
"Off the hood, little bit," he yelled, and Vera rolled her eyes but got down anyway.
Watching him come across the yard (as if you could call it a yard when it was bounded by nothing more elaborate than the beginnings of the trees on all sides) Callum was struck by how big he was. Callum wasn't exactly small, but Hamish made him feel pretty average. And he moved like he knew it, confident and strong, like danger coiled in faded denim and plaid. Exactly the kind of guy Callum usually tried not to stare at in bars. For multiple reasons.
Hamish stopped to eyeball Callum a moment, and Callum tried to pretend he hadn't been ogling him. If he could tell, it didn't seem like Hamish cared. "Hey. How old are you?"
It was so unexpected Callum gawped at him. "Uh ... nineteen?"
"That a question or an answer?" Hamish asked, cruelly amused.
"Yeah, okay, nineteen," you jerk.
Hamish nodded, and jabbed a thumb at the tray of the pickup. "You're in the back then."
"What? You're kidding me!" Vera whined. "You're making me ride in the cab?"
"Or you stay here," Hamish said, folding his arms and fixing her with the kind of look Callum thought ought to make some impression.
All she did was make a rough, angry noise, and climb in the passenger door, slamming it hard behind her.
Hamish grinned, flashing Callum a glance before, apparently, realising who he was grinning at. His expression cooled. "Problem, Kelly?"
Callum resisted the urge to say, 'No, sir', and just shook his head, climbing up into the back of the truck. Werewolves. Happy to murder people in the night, but obedient to traffic laws. So weird.
The ride was bumpy, and Callum couldn't be sure that Hamish wasn't actually aiming for every ridge and ditch and rock in the road. By the time they reached the fallen tree Callum's teeth hurt from how many times they'd clacked together, and his ass was numb, and he thought he might hate Hamish just a little.
If it showed in his face Hamish ignored it, getting out of the truck and inspecting the log across the road.
Vera, who had got gum from somewhere and was snapping it with the disdain only a teenage girl could radiate, was unimpressed. "Why don't you just roll it off the road? I mean, you can lift that, right? Or should I help you?"
Hamish flashed his teeth at her but she just stared at him, unruffled, until he straightened, hands on his hips. "Could do. Or we could saw it up for firewood. Season it for next year."
"Is that legal?" Callum couldn't help it; the werewolves exchanged glances and then, okay, maybe it was a stupid question after all. Still. "Aren't the woods protected?"
"Yeah," and Hamish grinned nastily. "By us. And the trust."
"Which is also us," Vera sighed. "Fine." She started rummaging around in the back of the truck, and came up with a flat red padded thing that made Hamish snort in disdain.
"I don't need the kevlar," he said, but Vera just shook it until he took the thing from her to get her to stop. "I don't need it."
"If you hack your leg off you'll bleed out, idiot."
Callum's mouth was open before he could think better of it. "Would it grow back?" Vera huffed crossly, but Hamish just looked at him, something brittle in his sky-blue eyes.
"What, you think you're gonna find out?" He said it low and dangerous, and Callum didn't know what it would feel like if he had hackles and they actually went up, but the crawling feeling on the back of his neck was probably as close as he was ever going to get.
"Listen," Callum said, holding his hands up in a placatory gesture. "I'm not trying to start anything with you," especially not when you're about to fire up a chainsaw, "so ... just let's not do this, okay?"
It was obviously the wrong thing to say; Vera shot him an incredulous look, followed by a 'are you the stupidest person alive?' kind of look.
Hamish dropped the kevlar. "Oh, we're gonna do this."
Vera said something that sounded like a 'no' but then Hamish had Callum by the jacket, had slammed him so hard into the side of the truck that the wind was knocked right out of him. He moved so fast. Callum had nothing to defend himself with, no chance. If Hamish wanted he could have snapped Callum like a twig.
"Hamish, don't."
"Stay out of it," he called over his shoulder.
Vera shuddered. "Don't do it. Nero'll kill you." She didn't sound as though that was metaphorical killing, either, and Hamish's grip on Callum's jacket tightened until the fabric threatened to tear.
"Go for a walk, Vera. Go." And he growled at her, deep and harsh and terrifying. Vera jerked back, ducking her head, and then she turned and ran into the trees.
Shit.
Hamish turned back to Callum, and his teeth were longer now, nails sharpening to claws, eyes flashing with that unholy wolf-glow Callum still found shockingly alien. "I don't know how you killed Holly," he snarled, close enough that Callum could smell the toothpaste on his breath. "Maybe you're a witch. You don't smell like a witch, but maybe witches can hide that. And maybe that's how come our alpha didn't kill you. Maybe you bewitched him not to. Maybe that was the whole plan."
"There's no plan," Callum protested, and he could feel his heart thudding overtime in his chest and wondered if that would make Hamish think he was lying. "I didn't mean to kill her, I thought – fuck, I thought I hit a dog. And then she attacked me, and I ... do you think I want any of this?" And then, Callum was suddenly furious, because if Hamish was going to kill him there was nothing Callum could do about it, but fuck, Callum refused to back down now. "Yeah, this was my fucking plan. Get bitten, watch my arm rot off, let some psychopath with fangs fuck me however he wants while the rest of you make stupid fucking jokes and threaten me, and at the end of it I might die anyway. Yeah. Great plan. It's going so well, I'm stoked."
Hamish stared at him, and then huffed, not quite a laugh but close enough. "Right. Must be terrible for you. A nobody like you, and all you had to do was be in the wrong place at the wrong time and now you get to bond to our alpha. Like you're somebody. Like you even matter."
That one wen
t home. Callum had no defence against it because, well, wasn't it true? Nobody. Nobody who mattered.
"Tell me how you killed Holly."
Callum blinked. Hamish was still up in his face, and he was still a little wolfy but his expression was flat, no longer angry. Still intimidating, though. "How do you think?"
"Her injuries should have healed. No matter how hard you hit her with your goddamn car."
"You're assuming I even know what killed her," Callum said, but Hamish thumped him against the truck, not gently.
"You've got some idea, I reckon." Hamish leaned in, mouth dangerously close to Callum's ear. "I can help you. There's another way out of this, without bonding with anyone. If whatever you did to Holly, you do to Nero."
Callum froze. He actually felt cold. "You want me to kill him? But he's your alpha. Isn't that ... I don't get it."
"He's weak now," Hamish said, leaning back to look Callum in the eye. He was completely back to normal, just a big beardy bloke with impossibly blue eyes, but he was still scary as fuck. "He's gonna die if he doesn't bond, and the only person he wants to bond is you." Hamish grinned, a nasty grin with too many teeth in it. "And he can't even do that right."
"Fuck you," Callum breathed, and no, he can't be this angry on behalf of Nero, can he? "You're a fucking traitor."
Hamish's eyes narrow. "I'm trying to save your life, kid. Because if Nero gets his way you really will be hanging around until your arm rots off. But if you kill him first, I'll make sure the pack lets you go."
"What, and you'll be the alpha?" Callum set his jaw. "Or Ria?"
Hamish showed his teeth but that was all. "Me and Ria can sort that out. Thanks."
"And what about my arm? I'll just die anyway, how would this even help?"
"An alpha can heal it for you," Hamish said, as if this was obvious. He stepped off, letting Callum go. "Nero could do it, if he weren't crippled. He can't even shift, did you know that? Fucking impotent. What kind of alpha lets himself get so weak? He should have killed you, bonded Ria, moved the fuck on. Instead he's making this mess. It's bad for the pack."
Callum could feel his fists bunch up. Man, he wanted to hit this guy. "And you'd do better?"
"Hell yeah," Hamish snorted, and then he stomped over to the fallen tree, dragging it up to rest one end on an old stump. "You gonna help with this?"
"You're crazy if you think I'm going anywhere near you when you're holding a chainsaw," Callum told him. "And there's jam in your beard, so you know."
Yeah. That sure showed him.
Chapter 9
Callum shouldn't have been surprised that Nero confronted them in the yard, but somehow it was still a shock to see him storm out of the house, slamming the door behind him and, whoa, okay Hamish said Nero couldn't shift but he was wolfy, claws out and fangs too like, well, a wolf.
Hamish yanked on the handbrake and then he was out the door, shoulders flexing as he went, and–
"Oh shit," Callum breathed, scrabbling at his seatbelt and practically falling out of the truck. They were going to do this? Now?
Nero was up in Hamish's face, growling something low and dangerous, and Hamish had his head down but his shoulders back, and Callum knew with a horrifying sort of clarity that neither of them could back down, not now.
He looked up. Ria was standing on the porch, looking unimpressed, and behind her Michael peered over her shoulder, but no-one looked like they were going to do anything to intervene.
Something wet touched the centre of his palm; he snatched his hand up, startled, and blinked in confusion. There was a wolf, a big one, looking up at him, expectantly, as if–
"Shit, shit, shit," Callum moaned.
The wolf nudged his hip with its head (jeez, the thing was huge) and he stumbled forward, and then .... well, he wasn't sure what to do.
"Nero," he said. Nero's eyes snapped to him, and then there was a hand wrapped possessively around Callum's arm, yanking him close to be sniffed. If anything this made things worse. Nero turned on Hamish again, eyes blazing.
"How dare you?"
Because of course Callum smelled like Hamish; the other wolf had been pushed up against the front of him. "Hey, it's okay," Callum said, only for Nero to squeeze him hard. "Come on, it's okay."
"He touched you," Nero snarled. "He's all over you. It's not okay."
"I'm fine, though." Callum took a deep breath, not sure if this would work. Hamish hadn't backed down, but he also hadn't started it, and he looked wary but not like he would actually insist on following this through to blood if he didn't have to. Not when he thinks I'll kill Nero for him.
So. Callum put his hand in the middle of Nero's back. Nero shuddered as if the touch wasn't welcome, but when Callum slid his hand up, feeling the muscles bunched along Nero's spine, it seemed to rub some of the tension out of him.
"Hey," Callum said again, and Nero must have been able to hear his heart hammering in his chest. The hand hard on Callum's bicep eased off a little, though Nero still looked all fangy and glowy-eyed. "Not now, okay?"
Nero made a thrumming sound in his throat. It wasn't, well, aggressive, but it was definitely unhappy. Callum kneaded the flesh of Nero's back, feeling the muscles relax and smooth under his fingers. Wow. Was this actually working?
"Come on," he whispered.
Nero shook himself, like a wet dog shedding water, and started tugging Callum into the house.
Callum started to resist but then, well, this was better, wasn't it?
Still, Nero dragged him past Ria and Michael, up the stairs, and into his room before letting Callum go.
"Okay," Callum said, rubbing his arm because, dammit, Nero had held him tight enough there might be a fucking bruise, "that was completely not–" 'Cool', he'd been going to say, but at that moment he had a sudden armful of angry werewolf and, oh hey, that was kinda distracting.
He knew what Nero was doing, rubbing up the front of him and nuzzling deep into the hollow of Callum's neck. He scuffed his hands over Callum's shoulders, then pulled his palms hard down Callum's chest, rumbling angrily into Callum's throat.
Callum let him, trying not to stiffen up. Nero wasn't going to hurt him, he knew it. He was just marking his territory. And that thought still made Callum smirk a bit. "So ... you gotta promise me you really aren't gonna pee on me one day."
It might have been the right thing to say. Nero made a rough sound, maybe the start of a laugh, and seemed to settle, resting his weight against Callum's chest. He didn't really weigh all that much; he was strong but so lean, sleek and powerful, not an inch of him wasted. The opposite of Hamish, who was big and heavy and solid as a brick shithouse.
And a traitor. Callum must have done something, gone stiff or maybe his heart jerked, because Nero lifted his head, eyes scanning Callum's face warily.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Callum lied, but when Nero frowned at him he shook his head. Lying to werewolves. Fucking useless. "Hamish," he started, and Nero's hand tightened on Callum's hip and Callum changed direction. "No, hey, it's okay." He covered the hand with his palm, squeezing gently, trying to sound reassuring. "I'm fine. He's a dickhead, but he didn't hurt me."
"He should never have touched you," Nero rumbled, sniffing Callum's neck in a possessive sort of way that Callum had to admit he kinda liked. "You're not for him."
Callum was starting to see a pattern. "You don't have to do this. Whatever this is. I'm not going with anyone else. I mean, I'm all yours, right? Until we make this bond work, anyway. But," and he rubbed his hand up Nero's back, in the way that seemed to soothe him. "Until then. Just for you. Not Hamish. Not Vera."
Nero made an unhappy noise. "You like Vera."
"Uh, yeah? Told you she's not my type."
This didn't seem to help much. "She's closer to your age."
"She's under-age," Callum argued. Then he cleared his throat. "I dunno if you know this, but I'm pretty sure she's a girl. So. Really not my type." We've been over this.
Ne
ro huffed, leaning back to give Callum a challenging look. "And Hamish?"
Ah. Well. Lying was pointless, so better to come clean. "Yeah, he's my type. But he's such an asshole."
That seemed to satisfy him; Nero caught Callum's hand, meshing their fingers and pulling until he had backed into the wingback armchair Callum had slept in that first night, and dragged Callum down into his lap. It was a bit ridiculous; Callum had to brace an arm against the back of the chair because he was bigger, he didn't want to crush anyone's anything.
Nero seemed to find this amusing. "Do you think you'll hurt me? You're hardly an elephant."
"How strong are you? I mean, werewolves have super strength, right?" He'd seen Hamish manhandle that log and, yeah, he was pretty much a superhero. "Could you bench-press a cow?"
Nero snorted, running his fingers through Callum's hair. "A cow would be awkward. They kick."
"A dead cow, then. A carcass."
"I've never tried," Nero said, and then he shook his head. "Is this going somewhere? Should I be concerned?"
"I don't have a stack of dead cows I need you to load up, so no. But–"
Nero nosed Callum's shoulder. "But?"
Callum frowned, not really wanting to start this up again but still curious. "Hamish – no, wait, don't get mad. He said something." He told me to kill you. "He said you couldn't shift. And that you could heal this," he indicated his bandaged arm, which throbbed dully as if to emphasize his point, "Alphas can do that, right?"
Nero had gone very still, and when he nodded it was a small, jerky gesture. "Yes. We can, and I could. And no, I can't shift, not all the way. The broken bond is blocking me. This," and he flicked the white hair out of his eyes – more of it was white now, pale as bleached bone, almost all the front part and bleeding back across his scalp – "I think it grows every time I try. And even when I don't, though less so."
And when it's all white–
Callum swallowed. "Stop trying, then. If it makes it worse."
"It's difficult. It might be easier if I'd been born human, but I've never known what it's like to be trapped in one shape." His mouth twitched into a sort of smile. "I don't know how you tolerate it."