“Exactly.”
“I’m not in the mating frame of mind.” Marrying—binding?—whatever it would be with a witch. “I’m not even in the dating or boyfriend frame of mind.”
“Isaac,” he said solemnly.
The sound of that name ripped a gash from collarbone to navel that should have purged all my internal organs on the ground for the scavengers to feast on at dawn.
“Yes,” I said hoarsely.
“The true curse of the warg is that we give our hearts so easily, so assuredly, with no guarantee our devotion will be returned.”
I forced myself to read his expression. “You believe in soul mates, I take it?”
“I do.” He seemed to need a moment. “I think all of us have a perfect other half, I just believe that because of our heightened senses or perhaps our animalistic natures, we recognize them faster.”
“And when they don’t recognize us?” I asked, a sharp edge to my voice. “What then?”
His expression grew distant. “Then we give them time and space and pray that one day they might feel the same pull as we do.”
“You’re saying you don’t think it goes away.”
“For wargs?” He shook his head. “No. I don’t think it does.”
“What about Bessemer?” Our former alpha had burned through several willing females.
“His first mate died in childbirth.” He cut me a glare that said I already knew this. “He’s broken. He’s been that way for a long time.”
“No argument here.” I exhaled a hiss between my teeth. “Though I’m not certain that’s the root of his issues.”
Meemaw had chosen to stay in the Chandler pack, even when things went south, out of respect for the founders. Except Cord was Elsa and Terry Chandler’s grandson—not Bessemer—so it was Lorimar who continued their legacy, in my personal opinion. One day, when the dust settled, I hoped to offer her a home here.
“Some people bounce back,” he said conversationally. “They marry or whatever the custom of their partner dictates.”
“I really don’t want to have this conversation right now.” Or ever. “Isaac—” fire spread through my chest at the mention of his name, “—is always going to be a part of my life, because Cam is my alpha, and he’s her cousin. He may not visit often. He may not visit ever. But I see him in her, and I hear her talk to him, laugh with him, and it guts me that he’s moved on in a way I can’t. At least not so fast.”
Abram patted my shoulder. “You’re strong, Dell. Stronger than most realized.” He squeezed. “A year ago, would you have imagined yourself here?”
“As a beta under alphas I respect?” It was as close to a fairy tale as I had ever heard. It was my childhood dream come true. My dearest wish granted. “No. I was so broken, all I thought about was surviving today so I could get up and start all over again tomorrow.”
“And yet, here you are.”
Unsure where this was headed, I agreed. “Here I am.”
“Cord thinks of you as a sister. Isaac is Cam’s cousin. Her favorite. Those are strong opposing forces.” His hand dropped to his side. “You’re going to have to think long and hard about how much of this ache you allow Cord to see when he returns home for good. Otherwise the tension might cause strife between them.”
I shot him a startled glance. “You don’t think Cam told him?”
Abram burst with laughter. “She probably prefers her cousin’s head on his shoulders. At most she might have admitted you dated and things didn’t pan out. I doubt she told him your wolf chose him as her mate.” The sky held his attention as we walked. “She’s not a warg. She may not understand it. Hell, she may not know it. Her relationship with Cord is complex, and she may be unable to parse his devotion to her from species traits.”
“Cord doesn’t believe in soul mates either,” I interjected with no small amount of glee.
“He didn’t until he found Cam.” Abram smiled back, all teeth. “Ask him again when he gets home. I dare you.”
Grumbling under my breath seemed the best response, so that’s what I did.
Now that he mentioned it, I hadn’t considered Cam’s quiet acceptance as anything more than that. I appreciated the distance she gave me to lick my wounds, but Abram had me wondering about her composure over the incident.
The bottom line was plenty of men had held power over me. None of them had broken me. Not one of them had so much as scratched the surface. So why was this one man so different? What about him had me questioning what I knew about wargs and soul mates and happily ever afters?
How sad was it that—for a fraction of a second—I considered tattling? Like running to Cam with the burden of my heartache might somehow fix it? The last thing I wanted was him showing up out of obligation or a misplaced sense of responsibility.
Wargs didn’t die from broken hearts, damn it. They didn’t.
Dark crimson pooled on the knotty pine planks. A pale figure dressed in a long ivory gown, a wedding dress cut in the cape style popular in the seventies, lay stretched across the floor. The bodice had been sliced clean to her navel, and the butchery didn’t stop there. A knife protruded from the gaping hole blackening her chest, smudged fingerprints on the handle. Her arms rested limp at her sides, both hands soaked in the blood she had used as ink to pen her epitaph.
Death smoothed the lines so often pinched in her face. A fading smile curved her lips.
My father’s name was written in blood at her elbow, a final accusation, along with dozens of names I had never heard.
“Momma was weak. I am not,” I murmured my favorite mantra under my breath.
Abram slowed his pace. “What was that?”
Great. Now I was talking to myself. It had taken my mother years to work up to that point. “I said I’ll speak with the alphas when they get home. Secrets fester. They cause rifts between alphas and their seconds, and that’s not going to be us.”
Abram nodded. “That right there is how I know you’ll survive this. You’re too stubborn to curl up and give in.” He pulled up short when we reached my RV, and he noticed my deck. “Besides, your broken heart has increased your productivity threefold.”
I shrugged in agreement. “A girl has to occupy her time somehow.”
“Until you accepted the O’Malley case, you filled your hours waiting on the nightly hunts.” He mused, “It seems you had some aggression in need of working out.”
I didn’t correct him, because he wasn’t wrong.
“Zed thinks I’m too distracted to notice I haven’t been hunting deserters with the pack the last few days.”
“You’re kind to give his poor nerves a break.” He chuckled. “That’s part of what makes you an excellent beta. Not only your physical strength, but your emotional fortitude. Your heart.”
My gut roiled at the mention of that particular organ so soon after thinking about how I had found Momma in the cabin where I grew up, but I was an old pro at shoving those memories into the soles of my feet then stomping on them.
The mention of Zed tempted me to ask Abram about his prognosis, but that information fell under patient/doctor confidentiality, as well as under the “ask to his face” friendship rule.
Two years ago, Zed fell in love with a human woman. He bonded, hard and fast. She was killed by a drunk driver who ran a red light while she was crossing the street. Meredith passed before things got serious, at least on her end. But Zed was all in from the first smile.
Sitting at his bedside while he wept and pined and starved himself reminded me so much of holding vigil over Momma while she chose manic self-destruction—taking me along for the ride—over recovery that I had to bully myself into returning to him each night.
Watching him suffer… The similarities almost broke me. So I gave up my spot on the sidelines. I said “eff that” to those who figured he would get over it if given enough time. I forced him to get up, brush his teeth, eat, run with the pack, and otherwise go through the motions of living until he slowly came b
ack to life.
Today Zed was functional. Still slim as a rail. Still didn’t care for himself like he ought to. But he had survived. One day he would thrive. And yesterday… He smiled at a cute girl, and she smiled back.
Brave Zed was my blueprint for recovery.
“I’ve had enough on my plate to justify my absence.” The truth was, I was almost afraid to go back. Having my recklessness pointed out to me had me questioning my ability to make safe judgment calls. “I’ll start back tomorrow night.” I couldn’t hide from my responsibilities forever. “We need all the teeth we can get until the Stoners get the green light.”
“How are they coming along?” Abram continued inspecting my deck while humming approval noises.
“As well as can be expected. There are always tensions when wargs outside a unified pack meet. A few of their packs are not sworn enemies, but not bosom buddies either. Thierry’s been careful with her candidates, but even the friendly ones bump up against each other from time to time. Their wolves aren’t going to settle until the pecking order is established.” The last thing I wanted was to pull my people off their posts for the sake of dominance fights. Tensions would lessen once the alphas returned. We just had to hold on that long. “They need to marinate more before we can trust their wolves to go into the field to hunt fae and not ride the bloodlust until they end up killing each other.”
He grunted in agreement or exhaustion, it was hard to tell.
“I stopped by the clinic.” His eyes brightened to kid-in-a-candy-store levels. “It’s coming along nicely.”
“I adopted three Stoners with carpentry backgrounds to help. The clinic takes priority for practical purposes, but it would be nice to show the alphas we haven’t been sitting on our thumbs while they’ve been away.” I joined Abram and toed my porch. “I want to give them a home they can be proud of.”
Abram reeled me in for a brief hug that smelled of toothpaste and newsprint. “We’re all proud of you and the work you’ve done here.” He ruffled my hair. “Don’t put yourself in an early grave trying to earn anyone’s approval. Cord is not your mother, and neither is Cam. They both love and respect you.”
I gritted my teeth against the mention of Momma and focused on the compliment. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” He watched me step up to the front door. “Get some rest.”
I paused with my hand on the doorknob. “Doctor’s orders?”
He anchored his hands on his hips. “If that’s what it takes for you to listen, then yes.”
“Do me a favor?” Abram sucked air through his teeth but nodded, and I pounced before he could change his mind. “Give Zed an update when he gets home? Mention that whole ‘doctor’s orders’ thing? Really sell how critically important it is I get some shut-eye? Otherwise, he’ll come over and watch me sleep, which means I won’t get any.”
“I suppose I can bend the rules this once.” He pointed at the door. “Get while the getting’s good.”
A smile on my lips, I snapped my heels together and offered a mock salute before stepping inside the RV. The compact space meant all I had to do was take two steps and fall to the right, which I did, to land on my mattress.
I was gone the second my head hit the pillow.
Chapter 10
Hesitant knocks on my front door, a bare three feet away, woke me. Rolling onto my side, I debated pretending I wasn’t home. Sure a warg could scent me, but blinds covered the single window. I could fake it, right? They would give up in a few minutes, and then I—
Knock. Knock-knock. Knock.
A growl rumbled in my throat, but I swallowed it down and swung my legs over the side of the bed. I did the stretch-and-yawn routine, hoping if I bought myself enough time the person would leave. No such luck.
Knock-knock-knock-knock.
The door swung open under my hand, and I leaned out to yell, “What in tarnation is so important it can’t wait until I’m awake?”
Enzo flinched, stumbling backward and falling off the porch. “I brought coffee?” He raised a paper cup as proof or peace offering or both. “How do you feel?”
“Normal,” I snapped, throat suddenly parched. “Why are you here so—?” I noticed the shadows and the position of the sun. “What time is it?”
“It’s almost one o’clock.” He stood and dusted off his pants, reaching across the porch to hand me the caffeine I so desperately needed if I expected any of this to make sense. “You didn’t show, so I came looking for you.”
I waited until the rich brew coated the back of my throat to lean against the doorframe. “I must have been more tired than I realized.”
“That’s probably my fault. The magic rocks tend to have a sedative effect.” A sheepish expression wreathed his face. “I’ve never given one to a warg. I figured your hypermetabolism would counteract the spell. Sorry about that.”
“The Stoners,” I groaned. “I was supposed to meet my crew to work on the clinic this morning.” I reached out to Zed through the pack bond. “I don’t suppose you can check on the Stoners for me?”
Fear squirmed through my gut that they had continued on without me. The blueprints were there for anyone to read, and we had discussed the plan for today, but delegation gave me hives under the best circumstances.
“They’re fine,” he answered in a measured tone. “I’m supervising as we speak.”
“How did you know—?”
“The guy you nicknamed Shoe Laces came to find me when you ran an hour late. He wasn’t sure where you lived, and his wolf is nervous about entering Lorimar territory.” He sounded reassured by that fact for some reason. Maybe he had been afraid of me adopting strays, which I sort of had done. “I’m off today, so I volunteered to play manager. I hear the lady who runs this joint got herself in a pinch last night. I don’t know the details, since she didn’t bother letting me know she got hurt, but a little bird told me she recovered okay.”
“I get it. I’m a jerk.” I focused on the feeling of remorse and sent that to him in spades. “I should have talked to you before I crashed last night. Things got bad fast, and I didn’t have my head on straight. I won’t do it again. The next time I stub my toe, you’re my first call. I’ll let you break out the kitten bandages, antibiotic ointment—the whole nine yards.”
“How can I say no to kitten bandages?” Friendship is a complex mix of emotions, but I sensed the top notes of forgiveness and concern reaching back to me. “Your crew seems to know what they’re doing, and I’m rewiring the control to the car crusher. It’s no skin off my nose to sit here and work while they do the same.”
“You’re the best, you know that?”
“Yep.”
“And you’re not conceited one bit either.”
“Nope.”
Flashing an apologetic smile at Enzo for being rude, I wrapped up my private conversation. “Can you do me one last favor and shut down the site? I appreciate what you’ve done so far, but you don’t have to spend your whole day doing my job for me.” I braced for the next admission. “Enzo volunteered to check the O’Malley lot for me. He’s not sure he can remove the glamour, but he’s willing to try.”
The fact I had also agreed to lunch I omitted with only a small twinge of remorse.
“You’re playing with fire, Dell.”
“I’ve already been burned.” I huffed. “I don’t plan on returning the favor any time soon. I’ll talk to Enzo again, okay?”
“Talking might not be enough.” Wariness crept into his voice. “You might have to get one of these two-by-fours and smack him in the head to drive your point home.”
“Let’s save violence as a last resort.” Though effective, that whole diplomacy thing frowned on me introducing the heads of allies to treated lumber. “I’ll make this trip quick. I plan to check in for the hunt tonight.” He started to argue. “I trust you to have my back. If I step out of line, call me on it.”
Zed knew the drill. He would keep the chastisement to our private channel
in order to preserve the illusion all was hunky-dory with me.
“Count on it,” he grumbled and vanished from my headspace.
“Now it’s my turn to apologize. Sorry I bit your head off. I’m more bear than wolf when I’m woken up.” I downed another third of my coffee. “I was expected at the site of the future clinic. I had folks coming in to help with construction, and sleeping the day away means they were left to their own devices. I had to make sure they hadn’t blown anything up or knocked anything down while I was counting sheep.”
“I’ll warn you of the possible side effects next time,” he promised.
“I would appreciate that.” The threat of getting almost twelve hours of sleep wouldn’t have stopped me from seeking treatment. I wasn’t that stubborn. Maybe. “I’m grateful you were there last night, but in the future I would like to give a heads-up to the people depending on me.”
He ducked his head. “Understood.”
“Give me a minute, and I’ll get changed.” I retreated a step. “Help yourself to the chair while you wait.”
“No magic on the porch,” he called as the door closed. “I remember.”
Shaking my head, I got dressed, not recalling until that moment I had answered the door naked. It spoke to Enzo’s character that he had never—not once in the time I had known him—taken liberties with me. No raking his gaze down my body. No “oopses” that ended up with his hand plastered to my ass. No comments that drew attention to my state of dress or undress as the situation dictated.
The gentleman witch.
I hoped he clung to that moral code. Working alongside Miguel hadn’t done him any favors, but Enzo was hanging in there. Maybe he would survive his apprenticeship with that flame still in his belly.
“Haden.” I pinged my wayward liaison. “Do me a favor and draft a couple of Stoners for a side project. I need every documented cloud to ground lightning strike for Butler over a thirty-day window. Get that information on a map for me. Foresee any issues?”
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