Brand of the Pack

by Tera Shanley

  Something even darker than the shadows stood on the edge of the light. Grey squinted but couldn’t make out the face.

  “Why do you care?”

  A long hiss sounded. “Because she and her kind are a threat to my people.”

  Grey’s eyes sagged, and his limbs became too heavy to move. He fought to keep his eyes on the veiled figure. As he fell backward, a shadow lurched from the dark, its gleaming white fangs intent on his throat.

  Grey sat up in bed, gasping for breath. A dream. It was just a dream. His body ached and sweat soaked his clammy skin. When he looked down at his hands, they were already mid Change. He yelled as the final wave of pain took him.

  “Grey!” Dean said as he pounded on the door. “You okay, man? Crap. Don’t attack me!” He opened the door slowly as Grey hunched defensively on his bed. He pulled his lips over his teeth and focused on Dean’s tripping pulse. His eyes were wide and the stink of worry and confusion filled the room.

  “Look, boss. We don’t have time for this. We have a meeting with the silversmith and we are already going to be late. This guy doesn’t wait around, and it’s not like we can find another one on short notice. I’m going to shut the door and give you some space to Change. We have to go, though. Grey? Think about Morgan.” The door clicked closed.

  Morgan. She would be running wedding errands. For their wedding. He sighed and let go of the bloodlust. Killing his friend wouldn’t fix the dream. He lay on the bed and let the pain wash over him again.

  Dean sat on the sprawling leather couch downstairs watching highlights from last night’s basketball game. He looked up as Grey hit the creaky stair. “What the hell man? You said to be over here early and then you wouldn’t let me in. And then when I break in, you’re Changed in your bedroom?”

  Grey’s voice was raspy, like he hadn’t used it in a while. Changing back-to-back had taken it out of him. “You broke in?”

  “Oh, yeah. You need a new door frame,” Dean said, waving at the front of the house nonchalantly. Property damage was a part of life with a pack of werewolves.

  Grey grunted. “You ready? I’ll tell you about it on the way.”

  He told the alpha about the dream as they pulled out of the gravel driveway. It wouldn’t help to keep it bottled in.

  “The Dragon? Man, that’s just weird. You need to lay off the chili cheese fries before bedtime is what you need to do. What did you eat last night so I know what to stay away from?”

  “Deer.”

  “Cooked?”

  “No, I Changed. Dammit, Dean, why the twenty questions?”

  “Because this kind of pressure is a lot! You are being challenged and you don’t even officially have a pack under you. And I know you. Your wolf runs the show and I want to know if you’re okay. Not Wolf. I’m sure he is loving this. But you.”

  “I have to Change every day right now. I feel on edge all of the time.”

  An old El Camino picked its way slowly up the gravel road toward them. Three witnesses sat comfortably in the back. He narrowed his eyes at the window and cursed softly.

  “What?” Dean asked. He followed the direction of his gaze. “Again?”

  “I’ve fought a challenger at least once every day this week. Sometimes more.” Grey pulled the truck to a stop. “Can you call the silversmith and ask him to hold on. We’re going to be a little later than we thought.”

  Dean pulled out his phone and punched in the number while Grey hopped out of the cab.

  A lanky man with tattoos stretching down one arm slid out of the El Camino. “My name is—”

  “Yeah, I don’t care,” he growled. “Those your witnesses?”

  The werewolf nodded and removed his shirt.

  He waited impatiently as the other wolf Changed, and as soon as he was finished, he pushed his own. Good thing he was quick, because the other alpha fought dirty. He jumped him as soon as he started his Change. He wasn’t fast enough, though, and Grey yanked his front leg out from under him and wrapped his jaws around the back scruff of his neck. A bark of surrender echoed through the woods.

  Dean clapped slowly from the open window. “Good show,” he said with a sarcastic arch to his eyebrow. “You thought you would fight Demon Wolf when you don’t even have enough dominance to hold a pack? Good decision.”

  The wolf limped off with his tail between his leg and Grey pulled his shirt back over his head. He climbed in the truck and pulled the first aid kit from the back seat. Two butterfly bandages across a cut on his neck and he was good to go. Dean watched him in silence.

  “What?”

  “How many times?”

  Grey sighed tiredly. “That’s the fifth.”

  “Five times we didn’t know about? Why weren’t you calling for witnesses?”

  “I have. Wade has been coming out during the day while the girls are out getting wedding stuff done.”

  “Why Wade?” Dean sounded a little stung.

  “Because you have to tell Rachel everything. You do! I don’t blame you. It’s part of the bond and all, but she’ll tell Morgan. And right now, I don’t think it’s good for her to be living in fear all of the time.”

  “Hm.” He nodded. “Fair enough. Even if I tried not to tell Rachel, she could feel me withholding something. She’d pry it out of me. Morgan can handle this, you know.”

  Grey pulled around the car full of somber wolves. “Look, it’s not like I enjoy keeping challenges from her, but when she comes home, she is glowing from all of the wedding planning, and every time I open my mouth to tell her, she just looks so happy. I haven’t seen her so happy since she was Turned. I can’t bring myself to take it away from her. Montana was rough on her. She was scared afterward. I couldn’t even hug her some days, and now she is back to her old self. I can’t just throw more dominant challengers in her face every thirty minutes. I don’t want her living scared that someone will take her away again.”

  Dean chuckled. “That she-wolf is going to eat you alive when she finds out. You’ve always trusted her to handle her own battles, or at least handle them with you. That’s why you two have worked. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

  “I’ll tell her when the time is right. Here, take a look at this and tell me what you think.”

  He handed Dean a folded piece of paper. On it was the pack emblem he had chosen to brand onto Morgan and Marissa’s arm to bind them to him. He and Morgan had researched into the wee hours of the night to find the emblem used in the Silver Wolf Clan. Morgan had been so tired, she had almost missed the page in one of the oldest werewolf lore books. The brand was a circle with flowing lines inside, weaving in delicate arches but never ending. Continuation and rebirth. The brand of a pack of werewolves with the unique ability to reproduce.

  All had been white with blue or purple eyes, and all wiped out for their growing numbers. The only time in history when humans and vampires had unknowingly teamed up for the same cause. Grey had poured over sketches to try to find the perfect one for his pack. It was fitting they would use the Silver Wolf Clan emblem because Morgan was the rebirth of the clan, long thought extinct. The Old Ones had removed the circle from pack brands shortly after the annihilation of the breeders, and this would be the first time in hundreds of years that the circle would be reintroduced to an emblem.

  Dean studied it and nodded his head slowly. “It’s perfect, man.”

  “So why do we have to cut them with a ceremonial knife? Why don’t you guys just get silver brands made up?”

  “It’s tradition. This is the way it’s been done for centuries. Plus, you can get a thinner line with the silver knife. It looks better, and you can adjust the size for females. Smaller arms, smaller brands.”

  “This guy who makes them, does he know what we are?”

  “I’m sure he suspects something, but his family has been making the knives for generations. He knows better than to ask a lot of questions. It’ll cost you a pretty penny but his work is the
best. You’ll use this knife on every new pack member you initiate for the rest of your life. So don’t lose it.”

  Chapter 6

  Where had the week gone? Morgan checked another item off her to-do list with a triumphant scribble. Despite being a microscopic wedding, a surprising amount of planning had to go into it. And for some reason, Grey was growing more exhausted every day.

  Her wolf worried. In fact, she spent an inappropriate amount of time wondering if he was okay. He was Grey though, more wolf than man. He wouldn’t talk until he was good and ready. She tapped the pencil on the table in rapid rhythm. What if it was something he wasn’t comfortable talking to her about?

  No better time than the present, Mom always said.

  “Grey?” she said as she opened the door to his bedroom.

  He seemed startled and rushed to finish pulling the blue cotton shirt over his head. The gesture stung like the crack of a whip. He’d never been modest in front of her before. She sat on his bed and cocked her head to the side. “What have I done to make you mad?”

  He looked off to his left, like the leg of the chair was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen.

  “I don’t want to push you into this. If you aren’t ready to claim me, it’s okay. We don’t have to do this tomorrow.” Each word felt hollow as it slipped from her lips.

  His head snapped up and the gold in his eyes blazed. “Of course, I’m ready to claim you. It can’t come soon enough.”

  She stood and placed her palm on the side of his unshaven face. He leaned into it and closed his eyes. His breath was warm against her wrist as he sighed, and in one smooth motion, he took his shirt off.

  She was delightfully surprised until she dropped her gaze to what he’d been hiding. Rows of cuts and butterfly bandages dotted his chest and neck.

  A slow rage brought a tingling to her skin. “Who did this to you?” she asked in a voice she barely recognized.

  “Hey,” he said quietly. “I’m okay. I just didn’t want to worry you before our big day.”

  “Who?” she yelled.

  “Challengers have been coming by while you were out planning. It’s the way I preferred it. You shouldn’t have to watch every fight.”

  She clenched her fists at her sides at the stinging betrayal of his secrets. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He opened his mouth but nothing came out. Shrugging, he admitted, “I don’t know.”

  The wolf in her yearned to be near him. To console him. Her voice softened. “I do. You ridiculous, brave man. I know you have an instinct to protect me, but we have to do this as a team. Every step of the way has to be you and me, okay?”

  He leaned his head back and let out a long breath. She brushed her fingers against a fresh cut on the tight, stretched muscle of his neck. “Come here.” She took his hand and led him to the bed. After she had retrieved the first aid kit from the bathroom, she straddled his lap and peeled the bandages gently off to clean them. “I thought you were getting cold feet.”

  He snorted. “It’s the opposite of that. I can’t wait to claim you so we don’t have to deal with the challenges anymore. They give Wolf way too much control.”

  “Hmm.” She smiled. “Morgan Crawford,” she tested. “Has a ring to it, don’t you think?”

  His grin was predatory. He took the cotton swab gently from her fingers and tossed it on the bed. Sliding steady hands down her thighs, he took a long drag of the air near her neck. He gripped the back of her knees and pulled her more tightly against his lap. When he nipped the sensitive spot just below her ear, she hunched into him, the closeness of his bare skin necessary.

  “Say it again,” he whispered.

  She tilted her head back as his kisses left a burning trail down her neck. “Morgan Crawford.”

  A knock rapped loudly on the door. “Food’s on,” Dean called.

  Relaxing in disappointment, she hung her head until it rested against his shoulder.

  His voice held a mischievous smile. “Saved by the dinner bell. We could always ditch the meal.”

  “So your suggestion is to ditch our rehearsal dinner with our friends, who are sitting right outside our window, to get a jump start on the claiming part of this relationship?”

  He nibbled her lip tenderly and she pushed away. “One-track mind.”

  He laughed and grabbed for her hand. “Hey, I didn’t straddle myself like some sexy nurse.”

  “Shirt on, mister. We have to mingle, and my mom is not meeting you for the first time while you are half naked.” She raked her eyes across his chest. “Although, she would probably like you even more like this.”

  She padded down the hallway, past rustic oil paintings of wilderness landscapes that hung on the walls. A grin stretched her face at Grey’s frustrated groan that came from the bedroom behind her. The smell of barbecue wafted through the house, bringing pangs of hunger to her middle. She entered the great room to the noise of easy conversation and dinnerware clinking. Dean hefted a huge pan of brisket into the kitchen while Rachel and Brent talked animatedly to Mom as they set up a buffet style line of side dishes.

  “Mom! I didn’t know you were here already,” she said with a hug.

  Her green eyes, much like Morgan’s own, lit up over a beatific smile. The light from the rustic chandelier above illuminated a hundred hues of gray in her hair. “Oh yes. I got here a while ago and I’ve been getting to know your new friends. Delightful people, honey.”

  Morgan bit her bottom lip. If only she knew she was talking to a bunch of werewolves, she’d crap herself. Mom was more of a cat person.

  Grey walked with a soft foot, but she had been listening for him. “Mom, this is Grey. Grey…this is my mom, Hannah.”

  Mom turned wide eyes to his chest, and they got wider when she looked up to the full height of her future son-in-law. “Good lord, but they made you a big one.”

  He laughed, chin tilted back until the cords of muscle in his throat stretched. His smile was relaxed and genuine when he lowered his gaze back to Mom. “Got my height from my dad’s side, ma’am.”

  “Oh, none of that ma’am crap. Call me Hannah, please.” She held out her hand daintily for him to shake in true southern belle fashion. He would realize soon enough Mom was a spitfire with a mouth to match.

  True to form, Mom finagled her way into sitting right next to Grey on the front porch. She’d always been admittedly enamored with big men, and they talked easily about how Lana was settling in here. Mom didn’t even seem to mind the sunglasses he wore, though the evening light had waned. Strands of white lights lit up the coming night and tiki torches were posted at every corner, casting glowing shadows across everyone’s faces. The murmur of conversation battled the cicadas that sang their evening song.

  Lana crawled into his lap, and he adjusted her onto his leg without losing a step in his conversation. Mom’s face lit up, and Morgan swelled with pride.

  “I love that you have taken responsibility for your sister as well, Greyson,” she told him. Her words nearly hummed with approval as they spilled from her smiling lips.

  Grey coughed and Morgan leaned forward. “Yes, Marissa is adjusting so well to the new house,” she clarified before he asked what sister.

  Recovering, he ruffled Marissa’s hair. “She’s a pretty good kid most of the time.”

  The kid he spoke of rolled her eyes and stabbed another slab of brisket into her pie hole. “Please. I’m the best little sister you could have ever hoped for.”

  The change in Grey was immediate. He was smiling, laughing, and charming one moment, and the next, he looked dangerous with his focus trained on the road. Just that flick of his attention did something awful to her insides. Dread slammed into her as the others turned toward the driveway one by one. Then she heard it as well. A car engine. Morgan couldn’t look away from her mate’s unabridged focus. He was frozen like a sculpture of a battle ready warrior in some lovely garden.

  As the conv
ersation stalled, Mom frowned and looked from face to face.

  Dean threw Grey a loaded look. Morgan’s heart pounded as Grey slid his hand across her thigh. Time to move.

  “Hannah,” Rachel said. “Have you had a tour of the entire house yet?”

  She looked baffled but took the bait well enough. “No. I’ve only seen the kitchen and living area.”

  “I think I need to take Lana in anyway. The mosquitoes are getting bad,” Morgan said, swatting at an imaginary bug. “They’re eating me alive.”

  Brent, the Dallas pack’s most submissive wolf, plucked Lana skillfully out of Grey’s lap and said, “Come on baby girl. Let’s go show grandma what you’ve been drawing.”

  Grey nodded his thanks and set his gaze back on the road.

  When most had gone back inside, Morgan clenched and unclenched her hands to calm her panic. “This was supposed to be a good night. I just wanted to relax with everyone.” How idiotic that she had started to think it would go off without a hitch.

  “It’ll be okay. After tomorrow we won’t have to deal with these anymore.” He squeezed her hand as she stood.

  “Come back to me in one piece,” she said, kissing him and squeezing his shoulder as she headed for the front door.

  Unable to help herself, she turned before she went inside. She had to see the wolf he would fight.

  The man who stepped from the driver’s side of the silver sedan wasn’t anything like Rodrigo. His manner of speech wasn’t formal or polite as the first challenger’s had been. He was huge. Where many wolves were built lean, this man had layers of muscle packed on. An enforcer. His head was shaved, and he wore a tight button-down shirt that accentuated his mass. If he had dressed for intimidation, it worked on her. The lines on his face suggested he never smiled, or if he did, it was only a grimace. Her gaze swung from her tall, lithe fiancé to the bulldog by the car. Three of his pack flanked him, all smaller than their alpha, but all scary in their own right. These men would visit her nightmares.

  The challenger’s dark, bottomless eyes found her. “Silver Wolf—”