by Callie Rose
A muffled scream pours from my lips, which are wrapped around Dare’s cock, and maybe it’s the vibrations from the sound, or maybe it’s just the sight of his best friends driving into me, but he shudders and jerks, his hips thrusting forward.
I swallow as quickly as I can, lapping at him and running my tongue over his shaft as he spills his release. My other hand moves faster on Archer’s shaft, and when Ridge freezes behind me with a heavy grunt, I know he’s about to come too.
“Fuck. I can’t…” Trystan bares his teeth, gripping my hips as he grinds his hips against me. “Oh fuck.”
I feel him let go at almost the same moment Ridge does, and the two of them pulse inside me, making my body hum with pleasure. I glance up to find Archer’s face, and he laughs breathlessly, almost helplessly, as he rakes his gaze over all of us. Then he’s coming too, spurts of cum spilling from his cock and spattering over my chest and neck.
Threading his fingers through my hair, he tilts my head up a little and leans down to kiss me. When he breaks away, Trystan lifts his head to do the same. Ridge peppers kisses down my back as he slowly pulls out of me.
“That was incredible. You’re incredible,” he murmurs. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” I whisper.
He draws away, and I miss the warmth of him at my back immediately. The mattress shifts, and as Dare and Archer help me maneuver my limp body off Trystan, Ridge returns with a small towel.
All four men help clean me up, not missing the chance to press their lips to my skin over and over as they do. Then Ridge tosses the rag away, pulling me toward him as he settles onto the mattress. “Come here.”
I nestle in against his side, and Dare presses in against my back, his arm around my waist. Trystan and Archer each have a hand on me, and Archer strokes my hair with gentle fingers. None of us speak, but we don’t need to. There are no words more powerful than the feelings that float between us. I’m surrounded on all sides, cocooned by my mates.
Content.
Happy.
My whole body feels quiet and warm, and I can ignore everything happening outside these walls for the moment. No matter what happens tomorrow, I can do this. We can do this.
I’m stronger than I ever thought I could be, and I’ve been loved more thoroughly and deeply than most people are in a lifetime.
I’ll never regret a minute of it.
26
Dare
I’m awake on watch the next morning before the sun has risen, and I swear I can feel an electric current buzzing in the air.
Sable and the other guys are still sound asleep, each of them sprawled out around me, breathing deep and even. She’s a tangle of limbs and soft breaths against my side, my gorgeous fucking ray of moonlight. But beyond the silence and comfort of this bed, I can sense that the village is already up and moving. Preparations are underway for what’s about to come.
There’s a strange feeling churning inside me. I want to stay here. I want to close my eyes and go to sleep where it’s warm and life is easy. But another part of me is raring to go. I could bound out of this bed in a heartbeat and race wildly into the vast unknown, ready to draw blood.
It’s useless to try to fight the inevitable march of time. And our time has come. That low level hum of activity, that sense of anticipation and fear on the air? It speaks to my wolf and tells me to get ready.
This is it. This is the day we either make shifter history—or we die.
On the other side of Sable, Ridge stirs and stretches, then glances over to find me staring at him. He sniffs the air, and I can tell he’s sensing that same haze of anticipation coming from the village. He reaches out to prod Archer awake with his foot. I follow suit and nudge Trystan with my elbow.
It’s go time.
I don’t bother with dressing fully. A pair of jersey basketball shorts that hang low on my hips, and I’m ready to go. I don’t intend to be in human form for long today.
We eat a quick breakfast of cereal and toast, and between the five of us, we down two pots of coffee. It’s a quiet, subdued meal, all of us lost in thought. Worry lines mar Ridge’s forehead, and Archer’s doing a lot of staring out the window. I think it’s pretty clear his mind is on his dad.
Or at least, maybe it’s clear to me since my mind is on my own losses. On the pack I once led.
I’ll fight for them in this battle as much as I fight for the East, West, and North Packs.
When we reach the large open area outside the meeting house, the place is packed with not only those who will be heading out to fight with us, but with those who are being left behind. I catch sight of the witch standing with three of our extended pack’s matriarchs, the four women speaking in low voices.
I feel a twinge inside my chest. Part of it is my ingrained disgust to see a witch among us, but the other part, the newer part, is excited for a future where maybe our kids won’t grow up with the same fears and prejudices that we did.
A future where maybe witches and wolves can live in harmony. Even as friends. It might take some getting used to—scratch that, it will take some getting used to—but if we can make that future happen, we’ll all win.
Once everyone’s assembled, we climb up on the rickety portable stage that’s been erected since the packs came together. Sable falls back to stand with Amora and a few of the elders, while I join Archer, Trystan, and Ridge at the front of the dais.
Archer raises his hands for silence, and the effect is immediate. I like that about the guy—he built such a comfortable, kind leadership with his pack that they respond to nothing more than hand gestures or facial expressions. And the other two packs have followed suit in learning to respond as well.
It’s almost like we were all meant to work together. Like this is how things should’ve been from the start.
Archer’s face looks grim as he stares out over the sea of shifters. I get the feeling—again—that he’s wishing Malcolm were here to help, or hell, even just to be his shoulder to lean on. But then Archer glances at the rest of us.
Ridge nods once, and Trystan does too. I shoot him what I hope is an encouraging look, because I know he’s got this.
A light of determination illuminates Archer’s gaze, and he looks back out over the crowd as he speaks. “Pack mates, the day has come for us to take back our lives from the threat that has haunted us for too long. We will finally face the witches, and we will emerge the victors.”
An answering roar of agreement bursts out among the crowd.
“The sacrifices we’ve all made will not have been made in vain,” Archer goes on, his voice steady. “These past few weeks have tested our strength and our mettle. In the end, I believe in us. I believe in the pack we’ve created and the bonds we share. Together, we’re going to take back our lives and move into a future of our own design!”
The resulting cheers are much bigger this time, and I notice shifters from all three packs mingling together. We’re closer to truly being one big pack than we’ve ever been. It’s starting to feel real. I expected more of a transition to get here, more reluctance from people—even though they agreed to it—but I guess having a common enemy threatening the people you love can be a great equalizer.
Ridge clears his throat and clasps his hands behind his back, just that simple gesture commanding attention. The man was born to be a leader, maybe more than any of us. He paces the edge of the stage with his shoulders back and his chin high, until not an eye in the audience can look anywhere else.
“The road that led us here was not easy,” he says, his gruff voice booming over the silent crowd. “For years, we watched the witches get closer. Get bolder. For years, they prowled our lands and picked off our loved ones like they were hunting for sport. But no more!” He stops for a moment, his expression darkening. “No. More,” he repeats. “We’ve been on the defense for long enough. Now we’re taking the fight to the witches. It’s their turn to pay for their attacks against us!”
The pack cheer
s again, and then it’s Trystan’s turn to speak. He crosses his arms and gazes out over the gathered shifters with a stony face. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so stern, and the effect is startling. But then the expression melts away as he flashes a grin and booms, “Pack family. Today, we win!”
Then he throws back his head and howls. It’s such a fucking Trystan thing to do that all I can do is laugh. Then I join in, as does the rest of the crowd.
A bunch of shifters howling at the sky in their human voices. It’s not as badass as a bunch of wolves howling at the moon, but it’s eerily haunting anyway. My wolf whuffs and paces inside me, responding to the sound as battle fury rises up in my chest.
As the howls die off, Trystan continues. “A few months ago, if you’d told me we’d be here today—one pack united, about to set off to war—I wouldn’t have believed you. I was selfish. I was wrong. It took a special person to show me the way.” He pauses to glance at Sable, and the flush that rises in her cheeks makes my heart skip a beat. “Together, we are stronger. Together, we’ll annihilate this threat and prepare a better future for our pack. A better future for our children.”
The crowd is nearly cacophonous now, whoops and whistles and voices overlapping. The air is charged with electricity, as if even those wolves who are being left behind with Gwen are feeling the excitement.
As silence falls again, I look out over the gathering, filled with a mixture of satisfaction and pride. The feeling’s kind of bittersweet. I found a new family, found a new pack, but it took losing everyone I once loved to get here.
I realize suddenly that as I’m silently surveying the crowd, they’re looking expectantly back at me.
Startled, I glance over at Trystan, Ridge, and Archer. Trystan’s barely holding in a laugh, and Ridge raises his eyebrow in question. Behind them, Archer jerks his chin toward the crowd, encouraging me to speak to them.
Me. They’re waiting for me to make a battle speech. Because I’m an alpha of this pack too.
The realization hits me with the speed and ferocity of a semi-truck. I have a pack to lead again. Everything I once lost has been found again. Or maybe not found, but reworked. Rebuilt.
The pack I once led is gone, and I’ll never get them back. I’ll never be able to fully atone for that loss.
But I can fight for a better future for the rest of us. A safer future.
“It’s easy to get lost in grief,” I say, surprised when my tone doesn’t roughen. Emotions roll through me like a tidal wave, but I glance at Sable and her sparkling blue eyes, and everything inside me quiets. “Loss is a fact of life, but we shifters have been hit with undeniably large losses. More tragedy than we deserved. More tragedy than most people know in a lifetime. When it builds up like that… it’s just easy to let the grief overwhelm you.”
A few of the shifters watching in the front row nod, teary-eyed. I briefly wonder what their personal tragedy was—a brother murdered at pack borders? A father dead in battle? A mother struck down by magic? Maybe it wasn’t witches at all, but everyday tragedy. Cancer, heart attacks, everything that makes us fragile and breakable.
Like Malcolm.
I swallow my rising pain and continue. “Grief is one of the few universal things that unites us all,” I say. “To grieve is to be alive. To be a person. To live in this world is to know grief.”
My voice cracks on the last word, and I think, Goddammit, I can’t even keep my shit together enough to be inspiring. But then Ridge reaches across the space between us and places his palm on my shoulder. The weight of it is a tangible, visceral reminder that I’m not alone. I tried to live alone, expected to spend the rest of my life that way, but fate had other plans for me.
I found three brothers and a woman I love more than life itself, and they’ll never let me face shit on my own again.
Taking a breath, I steel myself and resume speaking. “I got lost in my pain when I lost my pack. It wrecked me. All I could think of was revenge. I became a lone wolf, floundering in my solitude and my grief like I could atone for their deaths by depriving myself of life. But I’ve learned something. You’ve all taught me something,” I add, pointing out at them, at the united packs. “We’ll never defeat the coven alone. It’s only when we come together, fight together, work together, that we’ll be strong enough to win. United, we can do anything.”
As I finish speaking, the crowd cheers again. Then Sable’s at my side, her arm sliding around my waist, and the other alphas are surrounding me to clap me on the shoulder and howl with everyone else.
I laugh and add my howl to the din once more.
Our voices fill the air, and something settles inside me. One more piece of my old wound healing that much more, maybe. I’ll never erase my scars entirely, but I don’t have to get rid of them to live a full life.
My mate taught me that.
As we step down from the small platform, anticipation ratchets up until it almost feels like a real, tangible thing. Goodbyes are spoken, and we discuss last minute plans with the elders who will be remaining behind. I see Gwen and Sable exchange words, and I bite back a smile when the witch stiffens a little as Sable hugs her.
Everyone who’ll be heading out shifts to wolf form and dons their packs with the help of those still in human form. The packs are loaded with weapons, clothes, first aid, supplies, anything we might need if the battle rages longer than a day. We have no intention of returning to pack lands until the coven is decimated.
Then we’re on the move.
In such a huge group, we can’t exactly be subtle about our approach. So the decision was to screw subtlety and go for speed. Make it to the coven’s stronghold so quickly that we can surround them before they even realize we’re there.
Speed is relative, however. We travel for two days, all of us going full tilt and crashing out for a few hours each night. It’s hard to keep morale up, to help everyone cling to the breathless anticipation we departed the village with, but we do our best.
Even my own morale wanes the longer we travel, because I know Sable’s life is going to be in danger.
I stay near her when we’re traveling, and I hold her close at night with the other men, wanting to be with her for every second I have left. I do my best not to think about the fact that she could die—or, shit, that I could die—but the knowledge is never far from my mind. I’ve been there, done that, lost everyone I loved and had to live with the agony. I know intimately, deep in my bones, how devastating that shit can be.
I won’t fucking let it happen again.
I won’t lose any of them.
As the sun nears the mountaintops on the second day, Wolfsbane Mountain comes into view. We know from Patrice’s recon mission that the stronghold is on the back side of the wolf’s head, so instead of crossing the Two-Tone River where we did when we traveled to meet Gwen for the first time, we race farther west until we pass the mountain completely and enter a small wooded area near the river.
We have a little more cover here than we’ll have once we cross the water and draw up to the base of the mountain, so we pause to go over the plan of attack one more time, as if we haven’t hashed it out over and over for days on end now.
But this is it. This is the end game.
No more planning left. No more discussing and debating.
Only action.
Patrice shifts to human form, and the other alphas and I follow suit. She holds up her hand toward the visible peak of Wolfsbane Mountain and beckons us closer. Setting her fingers in an L-shape, she says, “Line my forefinger up to the peak. The stronghold is where my thumb juts out.”
I crouch behind her and do as she says, while the other alphas do the same. The coven’s hideout isn’t visible from our vantage point, but there’s something sparse about the area that makes it obvious it isn’t wilderness. Many of the trees have been removed from that place, leaving a bald spot on the back of the wolf’s neck. A narrow ridge juts out over the empty space, and the slope of the “neck” levels
out into a semi-flat plain.
Archer straightens. “That ridge overhead looks like the best location for us to monitor the battle while we go up against Cleo.”
Ridge nods. “I think you’re right.”
“Thank you, Patrice,” Trystan says, squeezing her shoulder. As she shifts and heads toward her team, he turns to the rest of us and says, “Well, it’s now or never.”
Smaller groups were already formed back at the village, and they begin to split off from us now, heading silently toward the mountain. The plan is to surround the stronghold with these smaller groups, and attack once we’ve drawn the witches out. Our hope is to present ourselves as a weaker force than we are, taking advantage of the coven’s overconfidence before the full strength of our army descends.
Once we’re back in wolf form, Ridge takes the lead, and I fall into step beside Sable. We cross the river easily and splash out on the other bank, then veer right toward the base of the mountain. The climb is treacherous—much steeper and more craggy than any journey I’ve ever taken before. We move as quickly as we can without getting out of control, and we stay low, darting through brush and other cover as we skirt past the hidden stronghold.
When we reach the narrow ridge over the coven’s hideout, the view is fucking breathtaking. Sable is the first to shift to human form, and she opens her pack to extract her clothes, her wide-eyed gaze sweeping the horizon. “Wow.”
Yeah. Wow.
The late-day sunlight has painted the plains and mountains in a riot of reds and golds. The Two-Tone River weaves into the distance like a snake, sunlight glinting off the surface to turn it a pale orange. It seems like the whole of Montana is laid out before us.
“Are we sure this is where we should be?” Trystan asks as he gazes down at the clearing below. Even though we can’t see any of our people yet, I know they’re down there, getting into position.