Her Pack

by Candace Wondrak

  Zak was angry. For good reason, too, she supposed as she stared slack-jawed at his neck, where a deep, long gash sat, bleeding like a waterfall of gore. She didn’t remember making the blow, but she knew she had to have, because her right hand was drenched, claws still extended even though the rest of her was human. She’d be angry too, if someone had tried to kill her. Though, how he was still standing, she wasn’t sure.

  Shouldn’t he be swaying on his feet, delirious with blood loss? Shouldn’t he be falling back, trying to hold his neck and put pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding? Why did he just stand there, staring at her with eyes of pure hatred?

  Maia’s stomach flipped. She wanted to run and hide, which was ridiculous, because she was not the kind of shifter to ever turn tail and run away…was she? As she thought it, it didn’t feel right. She did run away. She ran away from Zak.

  But…no. Not just that. She’d killed him. So how in the world was he standing before her, so pissed?

  Maia brought a shaking hand to her head, running her bloody, clawed fingers through her hair. She shook her head, her heartbeat so fast in her chest it felt like it was going to pop out at any time, right through her lungs and her ribcage. She was not one to feel fright, but right now, she felt so very scared. The way Zak glared at her, the way he was so unaffected by the deep, nasty wound…it was the stuff of nightmares.

  “You,” Zak spoke, and as he did, more blood spurted from the exposed veins in his neck. It coursed down his front, his shirt completely soaked, his pants beginning to stain red. They were on the beach, in the sun, warm and salty air stifling.

  She couldn’t breathe.

  “I’m going to kill you for this,” Zak said, taking a single step toward her, outstretching his hands for her own neck. “I’m going to make you beg me, Maia.” He smiled, blood staining his gums and his teeth. He was no longer the handsome son of the alpha, the future of their pack. He was a monster, a living nightmare.

  Maia could not move, her feet planted in place. She wanted to scream, but she couldn’t. This was what she deserved, wasn’t it?

  Zak’s hands slipped around her neck, not too tightly at first. They gained intensity slowly, almost painfully slowly. So measured that she hardly noticed she was choking until she couldn’t breathe air. Both sudden and slow. Her mouth opened, but nothing went in. Her eyes flicked to the sun.

  No, stop, she wanted to say. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—

  But that’s the thing, wasn’t it? Maia wasn’t sorry. She did mean to. She’d meant the attack with every fiber of her being. She’d meant to slash his throat and kill him. Why wasn’t he dead? Why was he here, hurting her? Suffocating her? Was this a punishment for her sins against the pack?

  They were not her pack. Jackson was not her alpha, and Zak was not her mate.

  Still, in spite of her hardening will, Maia was helpless as Zak’s hands around her throat tightened, squeezing with all of their might. If she was going to die here, she wasn’t going to regret a single thing. The bastard got what he deserved. The pack deserved a better alpha. No, as her vision grew cloudy, she did not regret a single thing.

  The pain grew to be too much, and her mind shut off.

  But Maia wasn’t dead, she realized as she opened her eyes to a dark room and a bed that she did not know. Her body was cold, her throat hurt. It was just a damned dream, a nightmare. She should’ve known Zak could never walk around with such a grievous injury. Zak was deader than dead—so why did her heart beat so quickly? Why did she want to curl up and scream to the void?

  She was so lost in her own head that she neglected to realize she wasn’t alone in the room. Alarick knelt beside the bed, his hand extending toward her. She jerked away when he touched her arm, sitting up as she drew the covers closer to her neck as if to hide behind them. Almost immediately she felt stupid, because Alarick wasn’t Zak.

  He was the farthest thing from the bastard.

  Once her eyes adjusted, Maia could see the concern on his face. He stopped reaching for her, asking quietly, “Are you all right? It sounded like you were having a really bad dream, and I…” There was a pause before he added, “I wanted to make sure you were okay. I wasn’t trying to—to do anything to you.”

  The stupidness she felt for how she reacted morphed into embarrassment. Maia didn’t want Alarick to think she was some helpless, frightened girl. She was a woman, and she could handle her own problems without anyone’s help, including his.

  When she made no moves to talk, when she continued to barely look at him, Alarick went to stand. “I’m sorry. I’ll go. I shouldn’t have—” He was by the door already, which he’d left cracked, his hand on the knob and no hesitation in any of his movements. He really was going to go without a fight, something that, for reasons unknown to Maia, shocked her.

  She had no idea why she whispered a soft, “Wait.”

  Alarick’s body froze near the door, and his head was slow to turn back to her. Though it was utterly dark in the room, they both had good enough night vision to see what expression the other wore. He was as confused as she was.

  Why did she ask him to stop? She couldn’t possibly want him to stay, did she? Maia bit her lip, realizing exactly that. God, was she stupid to want him to stay? Her wolf might’ve connected with his, and running with them was fun, not to mention the fact that she was now a part of their pack, but she couldn’t trust him.

  Could she?

  By the very definition of the pack bond, Maia should hold some degree of trust toward him. A pack was no pack at all if the wolves could not trust one another.

  Instead of saying more, which was good, because Maia wasn’t sure what the hell else she could say, she moved a hand out from under the sheet, lifting it to Alarick. The gesture was a universal one, one that said more than words could have in that moment. Maia wasn’t the type of wolf to ask for comfort. She wouldn’t go so far as to say she needed it, for she’d be fine without it, eventually, but it was a nice thing to have, sometimes.

  Alarick stared at her outstretched hand for only one second before returning to the bed. He sat on the opposite side of her, barely even on the mattress. If he made one stray move, he’d slide right off. Maybe it was why he sat there, trying to assure her that he would not attempt to do anything…ungentlemanly.

  His wide chest rose and fell with steady breaths. “I’m not sure how things like this normally go, but…I could sleep on the floor, if it would make you feel better.” His words were genuine; he didn’t want her to fall into a nightmare again.

  If only it was something his mere presence could help, but it wasn’t.

  Maia’s eyes fell to the bed. It was more than big enough for the both of them. It was his bed, after all. Making him sleep on the floor, or wherever he was before he’d come into the room, didn’t feel right.

  Plus, she didn’t want to be alone right now, not after seeing Zak in her dreams. Her nightmares. The mere remembrance of Zak and what she’d done to him made her feel like nothing more than a little girl who’d made a mistake—and that was so not how she wanted to feel, because she didn’t make a mistake. Zak got what was coming to him.

  “No,” she whispered. “There’s more than enough room here.” Maia realized what it sounded like, what he might take it as an invitation to do, and she quickly added, “As long as you stay on that side, we won’t have any problems.” And I won’t have to kill you, too.

  Okay.

  Bad joke.

  Really bad joke. So bad, it was a good thing Maia didn’t say it aloud. Then she’d have to explain the whole thing, and then Alarick would kick her out. He wouldn’t want an alpha-murderer in his pack. It was asking for trouble, especially since he was alpha. Although, she would argue, she wasn’t an alpha-murderer per se. She was more like a future alpha-murderer. Two different things. There’s a distinction.

  She’d done it for her pack, or at least it was what she thought. Maybe Maia had done it partly for the pack, but mostly for herself. Her wo
lf, though she’d grown up around him, since she was about ten years old, never connected with Zak’s. She never once had brought it up to Jackson, never told anyone in the pack she didn’t feel the shared camaraderie or the connection everyone thought she had with Zak. They either would’ve chained her to a bed and started to breed her then without any need for a mate’s connection, or they would’ve killed her.

  Both of those options seemed like awful ones, so Maia hadn’t had a choice.

  She did wish she’d stop dreaming of the bastard, though.

  “I’m fine with the floor,” Alarick said. “I’m a man. I can take it. I’ve had worse nights, trust me.” Though his back was to her, he turned slightly, giving her a smile through the darkness.

  Momentarily struck by how handsome he was, Maia found herself at a loss for words. The beast inside threatened to escape, but she swallowed the urge to crawl to him, to throw her arms around him and tell him to take her, by moving her gaze to her lap. Maybe inviting him to share the bed with her was the worst idea in history.

  “No, it’s fine,” Maia said. She’d run with them, joined their pack. She would be able to hold herself back, wouldn’t she? She prided herself on not throwing it all away for Zak; surely she could do the same when it came to Alarick and his pack? They might’ve been her pack now, but that’s all they were. Her pack. Not her mates. The difference was subtle, but distinct. And just because the urge was there inside of her, thanks in no small part to the wolf that acted in the worst kind of heat when she was around the three, did not mean she had to act on it.

  Sometimes she felt so angry she could kill someone, but she…

  No, she couldn’t say that.

  Sometimes she felt like blowing all her money on brand-name clothes and makeup, but she didn’t do it. Yeah, that one made a little more sense, even though Maia was currently as broke as any homeless person.

  “Don’t say it because you feel bad,” Alarick said. “I’m more than fine with—”

  “If you keep talking, I will take the invitation back,” Maia whispered. She heard him sigh, watching as he moved more onto the bed. He never once crossed the middle, though he did not recline and lay back, either. She slowly sunk back to the pillow. “If all you’re going to do is sit there and watch me sleep, let me warn you now that that is the creepiest thing ever.”

  Alarick grinned down at her, and within the minute, he slid beneath the covers. “Sorry. It’s just been a long time since I’ve had a woman in my bed.”

  Maia’s eyebrows rose. “A long time, huh? How long, exactly?” She wasn’t sure why the hell she cared, because everyone had a past. And, by God, she wasn’t even his mate, so she really should not have cared. But, even so, she did care. She cared a whole lot more than she should, and it was kind of scary. Almost as if her inner wolf wanted to mark her territory and go find whoever Alarick had been with and teach them a lesson—the lesson being that Alarick was hers and hers alone.

  “That, Maia, is none of your business,” Alarick muttered, flipping to his side, facing her. The grin still danced on his lips, and Maia had strange, almost impossibly strong thoughts about leaning over and kissing the smile right off him.

  She needed to reign herself in and do it fast.

  “Can you blame a girl for being curious?” she asked, sliding her hands below her pillow to keep them from traveling over the middle of the bed and onto his side. If she touched him, Maia knew she’d lose whatever amount of self-restraint she had left.

  “I didn’t know you were curious about it,” he said. “Careful. It might give off the wrong impression.”

  “What impression is that?”

  “The impression you’re jealous, curious, that you care. Take your pick.” Alarick paused, his voice dropping into a bare whisper, “Are you any of those things, since we’re on the subject?”

  “Is the alpha hopeful?”

  “The alpha will never admit it,” Alarick said, “but yes.”

  Maia found herself smiling, her heart beating too fast in her chest. Just being near Alarick made her feel warm. Smelling his familiar scent made her feel…more than warm. Tingly, almost. Excited.

  God, she was in so much trouble with these guys, wasn’t she?

  Chapter Twenty – Alarick

  Alarick had heard Maia thrashing about, as had the others. He’d told them he’d take care of it and sent them back into their room. He was the alpha. He had to show Maia that he could handle every part of her, that even if they were not mates, he would care for her like he cared for Grimm and Farkas.

  It would be hard, near impossible, but Alarick would manage. He’d do it, because he had no choice. It was either that, or she would leave. He could not take it if she left them now, not after running with them, not after her wolf joining the pack. If she left, it would crush him, as wussy as it was to think.

  Alarick was no wuss. He was not weak. He might’ve made mistakes when he was younger, but those mistakes helped to shape the man and the wolf he was now. Not once had he ever regretted any of the decisions he’d made. Even challenging his old alpha.

  And it took a strong man to climb into the same bed with a woman, a wolf he found himself so attracted to, an even stronger man to hold himself back while the animalistic urges inside of him raced through his head and his body.

  Maia had fallen asleep not long ago—or maybe it was an hour or two ago. It was hard to tell, given he’d left his phone in the living room, plugged into the wall and charging. Alarick had no clocks in his room, for he could only sleep in pitch-blackness. He’d tried to fall asleep too, for staying awake all night did not sound like a good idea, not when he had to be in at the diner at seven, but his mind was too frantic. Too enraptured. Too concerned.

  What could have Maia so worried and stressed that she could not get a good night’s rest? What was she running from? Would she ever enlighten Alarick and the others? Would they ever know, or would she always keep the secret from them? Packs did not do well when secrets were kept; they did better when everything was out in the open, when not a single wolf held even the tiniest of secrets.

  But, Alarick knew, things moved fast for her. He could not expect her to trust them immediately, though joining the pack was the first step. Maia seemed to be the kind of person who was able to hold back her wolf, to separate what the beast inside felt from what she felt as a person. Not many wolves could do that; even Alarick found it difficult. Until Maia stumbled into their lives, Grimm had been the only one to keep the beast inside—and his record was shot to hell the moment Maia appeared.

  He laid on his side, watching her sleep. Alarick did not want to remain awake all night, but he could also function well enough on an hour or two of sleep. They didn’t get back from the run until one. What time was it now? Three? Four?

  Maia’s form was motionless, her mouth hanging slightly ajar. Her expression was peaceful when she slept, a far cry to what it was when she was awake. She always had some kind of look on her face: angry, smug, nervous. To see her so peaceful…Alarick had never gazed at something so beautiful before.

  He wanted to touch her, hold her. God, he wanted to do a hell of a lot more than that, but he couldn’t. To do so would be to break whatever bit of trust they’d built, and Alarick refused to throw it away all for the primal urge to claim a mate.

  Maia could be happy with them, if she let herself be. She could be happy here, not only in their pack, but this town. Alarick could get her a job at the diner, or use his connections to have one of the boutique owners just down the road from the diner to give her a part-time job. They had a safe place to run, a home they can call their own. There was nothing better than that.

  Alarick let the minutes tick by, soon giving up all hope of sleeping. He’d survive on coffee later on, if he had to. Violet would probably keep him busy, harking on him until he spilled the beans on Maia. The purple-haired waitress would never let up if he happened to bring Maia along with him today.

  It was as he was lost in thoug
ht, wondering about how Maia would do if she worked at the diner—he wasn’t sure if she’d be good or awful—when she turned her head away from him, the peaceful expression on her face gone. A small crease formed between her eyebrows, her full lips tugging into a frown. Her breathing started to grow more erratic, and Alarick could practically hear her heartbeat speeding up.

  Another nightmare? He wondered, what could plague her so much? What did she run from?

  He was unsure whether or not he should go to comfort her. What if he went to hold her and she woke up, thinking that he was trying something with her? Maia would misconstrue the entire thing, get pissed immediately—because she seemed like that kind of person—and leave without waiting for an explanation.

  Alarick did not want Maia leaving.

  He reached a hesitant arm for her, because he could not just let her suffer more, saying softly, “Maia, wake up. You’re having another nightmare.” I think. Alarick was about to say more, but the instant his hand touched her arm—above the sheets, so hopefully she wouldn’t get any wrong ideas—her eyes flew open.

  They were almost too watery, like she was ready to cry.

  Alarick didn’t know if he should pull back, try to console her, though it would be difficult to do so when he had no idea what he was trying to help her feel better about, or leave her be. Just because she acted tough did not mean she didn’t need someone to be there for her. He knew well enough: sometimes it was the people who acted the toughest who needed others the most.

  Alarick decided on keeping his hand atop her arm, the sheet between them so at least he was not touching her bare skin. “Are you…” He trailed off the moment she turned her big grey eyes to him. Though it was dark, he immediately was lost in the depths of their sadness.

  How could she hide such sorrow so well? During the day, during the run, she’d never seemed off, never showed even a hint of sadness. Alarick hurt, knowing she felt such strong emotion over whatever it was in her past.