The clink of metal against glass interrupted our quiet conversation.
The bushy-eyebrowed elder stood from his Adirondack. “Usually pack matters are discussed among the pack, but since the choice of Alpha affects all our lives, not only our fellow members but also our partners, we decided to discuss the subject with all of you. As you’re all aware, Liam Kolane offered to replace his father as Alpha, but he’s been challenged.” The elder’s gaze slid to me, but then it skittered toward the beefy blond beside Liam. “Matthew Rogers”—next, the elder tipped his head toward the lanky boy with the mean white scar and mop of black hair—“and Lucas Mason have decided to go up against Heath’s boy.”
My shoulders pinched together. I bumped my arm into Everest’s. “Did you know?”
My cousin shook his head.
The elder’s gaze returned to me. “I believe they aren’t the only contenders, though.”
Silence entrenched the patio.
While Matt and Lucas leered at me, Liam’s face was blank, calm. Too calm. Too blank. If anything, his expression bothered me more than theirs. And then it hit me that he must’ve orchestrated this, asked them to enter their names in the contest to dissuade me from entering mine.
Smart.
If I hadn’t spied them talking, I would most probably have been swayed to drop the charade, but I could bet anything Lucas and Matt were going to suddenly back out and leave Liam in charge.
The elder’s gaze was cemented on me. “Anyone else interested in the role of Alpha, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
August was standing on the opposite end of the deck next to his father. Both had their arms crossed tightly, but only August scowled. His father kept wetting his lips, nervous, concerned. For the briefest of moments, I shut my eyes. When I opened them, determination chased away the hesitation.
I stared at Liam, and in a clear voice I said, “Sign me up.”
Intakes of breaths traveled through the women, followed by breathy exclamations. No one looked more surprised than my aunt, though. Her face, which she already kept out of the sun, had become as white as the sheets I’d spent all morning ironing.
Jeb downed the dregs of his whiskey in one long gulp.
Contempt was stamped in many a gaze. And then there was the look August shot me. Disappointment. If I’d learned one thing about life, it was that pleasing everyone was impossible.
I lowered my gaze to the black liquid rippling inside my mug, rippling because my hands were shaking. I tightened my grip.
“You are one ballsy chick,” Everest murmured.
“Anyone else?” the elder asked.
I raised my chin and scanned the faces surrounding me. So many of them were still looking my way. So many still whispering. Amanda and her two besties were smirking. Would they have smirked if they’d been werewolves or would they have supported a sister’s endeavor?
“I will convene with the elders to discuss the rules of this competition. After breakfast, we will deliberate with the four contenders in the conference room. But before we leave, we need to collect a drop of your blood to guarantee your candidacy.”
Bushy-Eyebrows crooked a finger. I handed my mug to Everest and joined the other three who’d already approached the white-haired elder.
“Wrists.” His nail had lengthened into a claw.
Liam, Matt, and Lucas extended their arms.
“Ness?”
I jutted my hand out.
“With blood, you will bind yourselves to me so I may know your whereabouts and keep track of your vitals during the contest. Once an Alpha rises, your connection to me will be severed.”
He slashed his wrist, and then slashed all of ours in turn. I gritted my teeth at the shock of pain. Bushy-Eyebrows pressed his blood to ours.
“Well, that’s sanitary,” I mumbled.
“Wolves don’t carry disease, Ness,” the elder reassured me.
The wolf in me knew that; the human still saw blood as a vehicle for disease.
Almost instantly, the edges of the boys’ skin knitted together.
Lucas snorted at my still-gaping nick. “Not healing very fast, are you? Want a bandage for your boo-boo?”
Shooting him a glare, I returned to the table set with desserts and grabbed a paper napkin, pulse pounding against the torn skin. Heal, I instructed my wrist; it didn’t. That wouldn’t help my street cred. I pressed the napkin to my wrist and watched the white turn crimson.
“We will meet in the morning to discuss the contest.” Trailed by four other elders, Bushy-Eyebrows walked off the terrace.
Amanda tore away from her friends and strutted over to me, her heeled booties clucking against the hardwood floor. “Hun, hun, hun. Going against our boys is one dumb idea.”
“Your boys?” I asked.
“Yeah, our boys. We grew up with them; we stuck around; we were there to comfort them when they needed some TLC.”
My fingers cinched around my wrist tighter.
“We are as much part of this pack as you are. Actually, that’s not true. You’re not part of the pack.”
“Enough, Amanda,” Liam said.
So engrossed was I by her pettiness that I hadn’t seen him advance.
She twirled, and her curls fanned out around her, littering the air with the aroma of apricot. It blended with the smell of the coffee cooling in my discarded mug, the scent of the blood drying on my wrist, and Everest’s evergreen cologne. My stomach swished from the sensorial assault.
“I was just voicing everyone’s thoughts,” Amanda chirped.
Liam’s lips were pressed so tight that when he said, “Leave her alone,” I thought it was Everest speaking.
Liam was defending me? Surely I’d heard him wrong. Or he had an ulterior motive. After being a bastard, the only reason he’d act kind would be to confuse me. “I can fight my own battles, Liam.”
“I’m sure you can, but we don’t talk down to each other. Other packs might, but not us.” He sounded so freaking noble. I understood why no one challenged him. He spoke like he was already an Alpha. But if he’d learned that from Heath, then I could only imagine the rest of what Liam had been taught.
Amanda pursed her glossy lips just as a large hand landed on her shoulder. She tipped her neck up and smiled up at Matt, who stood a full head and a half taller.
He extended one large paw. “Don’t know if you remember me—”
“I do.” I stared at his hand a long while before shaking it.
He didn’t crush my fingers like I imagined he would.
As though the contact with Matt’s hand had thawed the invisible ice encasing me, others approached. Introduced themselves, reintroduced themselves. Six years changed teenage faces, yet I recognized most…remembered most.
A smile crooked Lucas’s lips. “We should bond.”
My spit went down the wrong hole, and I coughed. “Excuse me?”
“We should do a bonding exercise.” He tucked Taryn into his side, his hand almost on her breast. Classy.
His words combined with his sly smile had caused my mind to form indecent images full of leather fetters and iron chains. Why in the world was I thinking about bondage?
“Paintball,” a young boy with shoulder-length copper hair said.
“Exactly what I was thinking, little J. We should totally go paintballing tomorrow.” Lucas was still simpering at me. “Ever paintballed, doll?”
“Don’t call me doll.”
Lucas’s white scar writhed at my reproof.
“And no, I never paintballed.”
Amanda stroked Matt’s thick fingers, while Taryn whispered in Lucas’s ear. I looked for Sienna, found her speaking quietly with August. Unlike the other two couples, they weren’t touchy-feely. If anything, their rigid body language told me they were arguing.
There were other girls on the terrace, but they were chatting away, either oblivious or uninterested in participating in the conversation going on around me. I wondered if Liam’s girlfriend wa
s among them. I assumed he had a girlfriend, considering the number of girls who’d come to the pack event.
I returned my gaze to Lucas. “Is everyone going?”
Lucas’s smile snuck back over his lips. “Just the pack and you. Feeling intimidated by so much testosterone, Clark?”
What I felt was hot. Probably from the wall of massive bodies encasing me. Or from the blood loss. I lifted the reddened napkin and noted the cut was shallower, the skin less puckered. The wound was closing. That was a good sign.
I retied the tissue, then pressed my palm against the nape of my neck, but my clammy hand did little to cool me down. “Not much intimidates me, Lucas. But thanks for your concern.”
That seemed to make Liam smile, or at least I thought amusement had contorted his lips, but I must’ve imagined it.
Man, it was hot. I needed air. And space. I backed up, bumping into a chest. Brackish sweat and floral perfumes assailed my senses.
I concentrated on breathing through my mouth. “You all have yourselves a good night.”
My stomach swished harder, and my head… My head felt as though my brain were being kicked around with cleats.
“Excuse me.” When no one moved, I elbowed my way through the throng of bodies.
My sneaker caught on a big foot, and I stumbled, knocking into Liam. His drink sloshed from the glass and spilled over his black t-shirt.
“S-sorry.”
He wrapped a hand around my arm to steady me.
Had someone slipped something into my coffee? I bristled and yanked my arm out of Liam’s grasp, then traipsed across the deck like a drunk. I made it into the living room without vomiting, and then I bolted to my room on legs that felt detached from my body.
What was going on with me?
Chapter Six
Cold sweat slicked down my tingling spine. I jammed my key against the lock, but the metal slid uselessly against the wood. I tried again. Again I failed.
“Ness! Wait up.” Everest was barreling down the hallway.
There were two of him.
Three.
I didn’t want to be sick in the hallway. He grabbed the key from my fingers, opened my door, then helped me in. I scrambled to the bathroom and knelt in front of the toilet just as a jet of vomit spewed out of my mouth.
“Did you eat something bad?” Everest asked.
I hadn’t eaten anything since lunch. I shook my head, but that angered the throbbing.
Another wave of sick spurted out of me.
My vision blurred and readjusted. Unfortunately, my sense of smell didn’t blur. The acrid stench of vomit was so acute it made my nostrils flare.
Everest took a seat on the edge of the bathtub. “Was it true what you said earlier? That you changed three days ago?”
“Are you really grilling me right now?” I hoisted myself from the floor, flushed the toilet, and turned on the tap.
“No, I’m not grilling you. I’m asking because I have a theory. Did you or didn’t you change yet?”
I splashed cold water over my face then squinted at my reflection. My eyes looked wrong. I blinked. My irises glowed like the neon sign over the ice-cream parlor August would take me to on hot afternoons when our dads needed to work.
I spun toward Everest. “It’s—It’s happening!”
He sighed. “I take it you didn’t change three days ago…”
I lifted my hands in front of my face and slowly turned them. My nails had lengthened and were curving.
I stared in horror at Everest. I couldn’t become a wolf here. Not in my bathroom. I would destroy it. In beast form, my muscles would grow and my movements would become choppy and rough. When I’d changed for the first time at eleven, I’d destroyed my bedroom and clawed through the living room couch. It took me weeks to master my wolf form.
Would it take me weeks again?
As though someone were carving out my vertebrae, blinding pain vaulted up my spine. I arched backward and gritted my teeth. Pointy canines dug into my lower lip and split the soft tissue. Blood dribbled down my chin. As my shoulder blades popped out of their joints, I bit back a scream and fell forward, landing hard on my palms and knees.
The seam on my wrist burst open and blood gushed out. A crimson river trickled in the grout between the stones.
“It’s going to be okay, Ness. I’m right here. It’s going to be okay…” Everest’s voice sounded like it was coming from another room. He crouched beside me, his palm cool against my scorching neck.
The blood from my lip slopped onto the slate flooring and mixed with the blood from my wrist. I sagged and blinked. Had it been this painful six years ago, or was the pain augmented because of the years I’d deprived my body of its transformation?
Tears dripped off my cheeks and tangled with the blood. “I can’t. It hurts…” My voice was more howl than words.
My mind turned hazy with ache, and my elbows gave in. I yelped and flailed forward, smacking my cheek against the cold stone floor. The blow felt as though it had shattered the cartilage in my face, but perhaps it was the wolf within that was shattering my face, just as it was altering my bone structure, dislocating my joints, and hardening my sinews. I closed my eyes and willed it to stop.
Begged for it to stop.
And it did.
There was an incessant jangling inside my skull. Ugh. I pressed a pillow over my face and squashed my lids tight, my lips tighter. Searing pain radiated over my mouth. I pitched the pillow off my head and sat up so fast my bedroom swam before my eyes. I touched my throbbing lower lip. My fingers came away red, wet with blood.
It hadn’t been a dream.
The night poured back through me. I shivered, even though I was still fully clothed. Everest—I assumed it had been him—had put me to bed, but he hadn’t stripped my clothes off. The seams of my jeans dug into my skin, and the wire frame of my bra felt engraved into my ribs.
I peeled myself from the warm bed and padded to my bathroom. I flicked on the lights, smelling blood before spotting it. Balled pink tissues littered my wastebasket. I moved to the sink and peered at my hellish reflection. My bottom lip was split and swollen, my right cheek was bruised, and my wrist, although no longer torn, sported a purple hematoma.
I turned the shower on and stripped. Red lines streaked my skin, but the imprint of clothing would vanish quickly, unlike my tattered flesh. That would take a couple more hours to heal—if I was lucky. The worst part was that, even if I managed to camouflage the bruise on my cheek, there was nothing I could do about my lip. Everyone would see it. If they learned I’d bit my own self, they’d realize I had no control over my wolf form, which could disqualify me from the Alpha contest.
I returned to my bedroom, grabbed my cell phone that was snoozing, turned off the alarm, and typed a message to Everest. I passed out because I was sick, and my lip split from the fall. Come see me in the kitchen when you wake up. I sent that off, then added: Thank you for staying with me. And for putting me to bed.
And then I got ready for the long day ahead, feeling like my body had been rubbed against the metal ridges of the washboard nailed to the wall of the laundry room, a memento of early life in Colorado.
Chapter Seven
The second I entered the kitchen, Evelyn gasped. “Dios mio!”
She clapped a hand over her mouth and set down her whisk. The runny milk and eggs dripped onto the scratched but gleaming stainless-steel island.
“Who did that to you?” Even though we were alone in the kitchen and probably the only ones awake in the entire inn, her voice was quiet.
I didn’t move my gaze off the trickling whisk. “I fell.”
She narrowed her eyes at me, irises darkened by skepticism. “Against whose fist did you fall?”
“No one. I promise. I was sick, and you know how I get when I’m sick…I pass out.” Which was true. I always passed out when I threw up.
She walked around the island and caught my chin between her fingers, turning my face left an
d right, inspecting my cheek. I bit down on my lip before remembering the tiny stab wound. I released my lip instantly, then removed my face from her hands.
Her thin, penciled-in eyebrows drew together when her gaze moved over the rest of my body and spotted bruises on my elbows and wrist. “The truth, querida.”
The truth… Could I tell her the truth, or would she run back to L.A. screaming? Or worse, would she stop loving me for who I was? Why hadn’t these things occurred to me before I made her leave everything behind for me? Did I think I could hide my dual nature from her forever?
“It is why you left Boulder in the first place?” she asked. “Someone was hurting you?”
“No one was hurting me.” Had Mom told her about Heath? “But it’s the reason we left Boulder.”
Her eyes glittered furiously as she took in my skin that carried the same camo pattern as the tank underneath my gray uniform. I should probably have gone with long sleeves.
I sighed. “Can you promise not to hate me once I tell you the whole truth?”
She pressed a hand against her chest, over her heart. “Hate you? It is too late for me to hate you.”
I sank onto the stepladder Evelyn used as a chair when her knees ached and hung my head in my hands. “You’re going to think I’m crazy.”
“I would never think such a thing.”
“Yes, you will. And you’ll leave.” I’d told Liam nothing could hurt me anymore, but that wasn’t true. Evelyn shunning me, leaving me, that would cause me tremendous pain.
“I will never leave you.”
“You swear?” I tipped my head back to stare into her gentle eyes.
“On the Lord above, I swear it. Now tell me.”
“I’m a”—I gulped—“a…werewolf.” My voice was quieter than the fan whirring over the stove.
Evelyn’s rouged mouth gaped. Closed. Gaped again. She reminded me of the trouts Dad and I used to catch fly fishing in the mountain streams. “Un lobo?”
She’d taught me enough Spanish for me to understand lobo: wolf. Even to me, who’d grown up with the knowledge that such fantastical creatures existed, it sounded outrageous.
A Pack of Blood and Lies Page 4