by Gigi Moore
Remy, Sam explained, proved eager to get this whole unpleasantness behind him so that he and his future mate could start their life without any blemishes or ugliness from the past.
“So you and Carson are blemishes and ugliness?”
“It would seem so, as far as Remy is concerned.”
“How can he get away with this?”
“Pack law, bebe.”
Right, pack law superseded all other, and whatever the alpha said, nine times out of ten, was the word that all in the pack followed.
Despite the crash course Desiree had received on the workings of pack hierarchy and alpha rights, she still didn’t agree with what was going on or what she, Sam, and the pack were about to witness.
Carson and Remy would soon get into a ring on the edge of these very woods and fight to the death in front of their tribe, and there remained nothing she, Sam, or even Helena could do about it.
She had wanted to see Carson in all his beastly glory, see him shift, but not like this, not when the end result could very well be his death.
As honored guests—an honor Desiree neither wanted nor cared about—she and Sam had front-row seats to the impending carnage, spaces saved for them right on the outer edge of the circle that had been drawn in a small clearing just beyond the sweeping, low branches of several lofty weeping willows. She couldn’t help thinking that the trees’ dramatic appearance and the droop that created the familiar falling canopy perfectly suited her mood and perfectly suited the moment. The only thing missing remained a drumroll…and Helena.
Desiree had yet to see her, and when she brought up her absence, Sam told her that she had probably been sequestered so that she couldn’t witness the fight.
“My guess is she doesn’t even know we’re here or what Remy is doing. I’m sure she went with him on the condition that Carson and I would be left alone. It’s the only way she would have agreed to go with him in the first place. The challenge, and the fact that Remy accepted it, violates whatever agreement Mama and Remy came to.”
That sounded about right. It sounded exactly like the sort of sacrifice a mother would make for her children. It sounded like the sacrifice that Helena would make for her sons.
Sam rubbed her arms then removed his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. Before that moment she hadn’t realized she shuddered or how cold it could get in the bayou.
“It takes some getting used to.” Sam smiled at her and she remembered the night she’d seen him and Carson strolling out of the woods, dripping with water from the stream in the cool, early-spring evening.
That night seemed so long ago, McCoy so far away from this baleful bayou.
Though Colorado was much colder at night, she hadn’t imagined it could be this cold in the Gulf after being out earlier in the day, experiencing her clothes sticking to her in the sultry heat.
“It won’t be much longer. They’ll bring Carson and Remy out soon to fight.”
“They like to build the suspense.”
“It’s all part of the sport.”
How could he be so matter-of-fact about this? Two men were about to fight to the death, one of whom was his brother.
She wanted to call Sam on his nonchalance but knew he wasn’t as nonchalant as he seemed, especially when he grabbed her hand and squeezed it. To comfort herself or him, she wasn’t sure. She just squeezed back, trying to absorb some of his calm sanity.
Desiree glanced around her and took in the expressions of everyone present—a group of elders to one side, lesser lieutenants to another, a large throng of general pack members making up the bulk—and except for a number of the younger ones, teens and twentysomethings, their dispassion remained heavy in the air.
Were they really all so blasé about the prospect of seeing blood spilled?
“Whatever happens, Desi, you can’t react like a…like a human.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means even if…if Carson goes down, gets hurt—”
“Dies?”
“I still have you and Mama’s safety to think about. We can’t risk pissing off the elders or Remy and his lieutenants. You have to stay calm.”
“I can’t make any promises.”
“Sure you can. Just be strong like you were with me, and everything will be fine.”
That proved the second time in twenty-four hours that someone had alluded to her strength, and she marveled at it, having never thought of herself as particularly strong.
Had she been strong? She couldn’t remember much of what had happened that night when Remy appeared in his wolf form and gouged Sam to within an inch of his life. Most of her run back to The Double R had been a blur, and once she’d arrived back at the clearing to see the wolves enmeshed tooth and nail, things weren’t much better. She remembered fear, surely, and sadness at Sam’s injuries, but strength?
Sam squeezed Desiree’s hand, bringing her attention back to the center of the ring, where Remy and Carson now made their entrance, flanked by two pack lieutenants.
Both Carson and Remy were shamelessly, gloriously naked. Their olive-toned complexions glimmered beneath the light of a full moon and the numerous lanterns that had been strategically placed around the ring.
Desiree noticed that both men had erections and had to remind herself of Sam’s admonishment a few days ago: “Things that faze full humans or aren’t acceptable in the full-human world are perfectly natural for us.”
So it proved perfectly natural for two men to be aroused by the prospect of fighting to the death? She guessed the expectation could cause an adrenaline rush. So what did that say about her and her wet panties? Did the sight of one of her men standing so proud and beautiful, bare beneath the moonlight and for all the world to see, turn her on?
Desiree repeated the words to herself over and over—perfectly natural—and tried to convince herself that all of this—shifters, pack politics, the circumstances that had finally brought her from Colorado to Louisiana at a moment’s notice—were perfectly natural.
She turned her attention to the two officials beside Carson and Remy, listening as they recited some inane rules about battle protocol. Before she could take a deep breath, the lieutenants left the ring and Carson and Remy shifted into their wolf forms in an instant and strikingly brutal display of snapping bones and sprouting fur and claws.
Desiree didn’t even have a chance to appreciate Carson’s sleek black beauty before he and Remy leaped at each other’s throats and the fight was on.
* * * *
He’d seen them as he followed Remy into the ring, couldn’t ignore them, especially Desiree, who proved so out of place with her anxious expression and innocent features that her presence shone like a beacon from the crowd.
She was in for a rude awakening.
Carson wanted nothing better than to spare her what he knew was coming, but things were out of his hands now. He’d fought for his chance to take on Remy and demanded justice. Here he stood now with his opportunity for revenge.
It took everything in Carson to block out the vision of Desiree squeezed so close to Sam he thought she would climb onto his lap any moment.
He couldn’t let them distract him, needed all his attention and energy for this fight.
If things worked out as he hoped, it wouldn’t last too long. He had a strategy that called for striking fast and often until his opponent couldn’t get back up. He had an advantage, too, he thought. He’d seen Remy in action, had studied his moves, and he’d been practicing with Sam all these years for just this moment.
Carson was ready.
When Remy feinted to his left, Carson feinted to his right, parrying a slash to his ribs. He countered with an attack of his own, circling Remy and turning his head to bite Remy’s side. He quickly sank his canines until he drew blood but didn’t have a chance to deliver as damaging a blow as he would have liked before Remy turned his own head, snarling before he nipped Carson in the neck.
Remy stood on his hind legs
and leaped for him. Carson got on his hind legs to defend himself, growling and baring his teeth right before he sank them in Remy’s snout.
Remy shook himself free, pushing Carson back with his front paws.
The fresh scent of rain-soaked grass and dirt infiltrated his lungs before he sprang to all fours, instantly in attack mode again.
They circled each other, growling as they looked for any opening or weakness.
Periodically Carson closed the distance between them, taking running starts to nip at Remy’s hind legs and sides, then backed off for a better shot when Remy turned to nip him.
As expected, Remy didn’t have too many failings. He remained an experienced alpha. However, he hadn’t had to fight, really fight, for anything significant in a long time. He had an Achilles’ heel, if it proved nothing more than his arrogance and complacency. Carson had seen that in the fight with Sam back in McCoy.
Carson had done his damage then, too, and he intended to do more tonight. He intended to end things, here and now.
They went around each other for a while longer, taking swipes with claws and canines and drawing a good amount of blood, before Remy seemed to lose his patience with the game.
The attack, when it came, didn’t surprise Carson for its viciousness and speed as much as the frustration that seemed to drive it.
Remy wanted to get this over with, probably so that he could get back to Mama, gloating and victorious.
Carson wouldn’t have it.
When Remy charged him Carson braced himself for impact. His preparation didn’t help as Remy threw his considerable weight behind the blow. He drove Carson to the ground, head-butting him in the ribs like a bull rushing a cowboy in the rodeo arena.
Wind knocked out of him, Carson lay on the ground for a brief second before Remy leaped on him, teeth bared.
Remy aimed his snout at Carson’s midsection and snapped. Carson howled when Remy’s teeth crunched against his ribs. He used his hind legs, frantically kicking and clawing at Remy to fend him off.
Remy planted one paw in Carson’s neck and slashed downward with the other. Carson growled and twisted his head to bite the paw holding him down and bounded to his feet, circling behind Remy.
He saw his window, a slim opening, and sprang onto Remy’s back with all fours, his rage-fueled power tumbling Remy to the ground beneath him.
Carson went for the kill, opening his mouth over Remy’s neck and quickly sinking his teeth into the other wolf’s throat. He violently jerked his head back and forth, intent on doing the maximum damage, ripping tendons and vital arteries.
Shouts and screams drifted out to him as if through a giant bubble, just muffled noise on the periphery of his senses as Remy gurgled and writhed beneath him in the throes of death.
Muzzle covered in blood, Carson limped away from his kill. He staggered a few feet before plopping onto his side on the ground, panting hard.
He bled pretty heavily from several deep wounds—neck, hind legs, ribs, back—but he didn’t think any of them fatal, not as long as he shifted soon.
He closed his eyes and willed the change, agony riding his body so hard when his bones and muscles shifted, Carson yowled.
He heard rather than saw Sam and Desiree as they rushed to the circle and tried to break through the human barricade of lieutenants surrounding him and their alpha’s body.
Fully shifted now, Carson stumbled to his feet and took a couple of steps toward Remy’s body to get a better look at his handiwork, proof that his obligation to his father, to his mother, had finally been met.
In death Remy had changed, too, not looking nearly as formidable in his human form as he had in the midst of trying to destroy Carson as a wolf.
Carson wanted to feel more satisfaction with his enemy’s demise. He could, however, only muster emptiness and relief at the sight of a blood-covered Remy supine on the ground, now-sightless eyes focused on the clear night sky. “It’s done,” he rasped.
“Not quite.”
Carson jerked up his glance to stare at the prime elder, Arnoux. “What do you mean, not quite? I defeated him. He’s—”
“Dead, yes. And this being the case, there are some matters that must be dealt with.”
“Do I have alpha rights or not?”
“There’s still the little matter of your crime and fugitive status.”
“Remy led me to believe this challenge eradicated all of that. Clean slate, fresh start.”
Arnoux hesitated, glancing down at Remy’s body before looking at Carson, his hard features unreadable. “The situation is a little more complicated than that, young one, and as I said before, there are some additional matters that the council must address with you and your kin.”
“Carson, what is he talking about? What’s going on?” Sam stood just outside the circle, one of Remy’s lieutenants’ forearms planted firmly in his chest, holding him back. Yet another lieutenant, Gaetan, grasped Desiree around the biceps none too gently and began leading her away as one of Remy’s main lieutenants, Raul, latched onto Sam to do the same.
Carson growled. “Where are they taking them?”
“To be dealt with.”
“You sonofabitch!” Carson charged Arnoux, but two more lieutenants grabbed each of his arms from behind and jerked him back. “Remy promised us freedom if I won. He promised.”
“Yes, well, Remy isn’t here now, is he?”
Still weak from his battle, Carson struggled against the two lieutenants to no avail. They dragged him away from the prime elder, out of the circle, and in the direction where Gaetan and Raul had led Sam and Desiree.
“Don’t make this difficult,” one of the lieutenants grumbled in his ear.
“We can easily restrain you. Shackles or tranquilizer. It’s up to you,” the other said.
“Try it.”
“Don’t even think about shifting.”
Carson had been so thrown by Arnoux’s words and the sudden turn of events, shifting hadn’t even occurred to him. Now that he thought about it, he remained too weak try it anyway.
“What’s it going to be?”
“Take your best shot, peeshwank.”
The first lieutenant, a pup even younger than Sam and who Carson barely knew, grinned and painfully tightened his grip around Carson’s biceps. His partner, much older but still unknown to Carson, swiftly stuck a needle in his opposite arm and depressed the plunger.
Carson froze then his knees buckled beneath him. “No!”
“Yes, whelp. Time to go beddy-bye.”
“I can’t. Not now. Please…”
“Too late to beg, hardass.”
“But I have to…” Take care of Desiree and Mama and Sam. Please…
Before another thought flashed through his mind, Carson’s world tilted on its axis and everything went black.
Chapter 22
Desiree couldn’t go through this again. She couldn’t go through another Sam.
As if reading the defeatist direction of her thoughts, Sam curved his arm around her now and drew her close to his side in the back of the limo. “Everything’s going to be all right. Be strong, bebe.”
Desiree bit her lip and nodded, still filled with doubt, especially when one of Remy’s lieutenants, Raul, started the engine and pulled away from the wooded area to which she and Sam had originally been brought, a lifetime ago it seemed.
The lieutenant riding shotgun, Gaetan, hit the power button to ease into place the dark-tinted Plexiglas that separated the passengers from the front seat.
Immediately after, Desiree heard the power locks engage, effectively locking her and Sam in the backseat.
She knew the routine. They remained “guests” of the pack until someone in charge decided otherwise.
By all rights, that someone should have been Carson.
Desiree wondered now how the transfer of power worked in the pack, especially once the alpha died. Was there some sort of lame-duck period? Did Carson have to go through some type of bureauc
ratic processing before he could be recognized as the pack alpha? Or worse, had Remy just shined them all on, leading them to believe he meant what he said and said what he meant when nothing could have been further from the truth?
Why else would Raul and Gaetan feel the need to manhandle her and Sam? Why else would that elder waylay Carson?
Desiree had hoped that Remy would play fair, but he seemed the master manipulator from beyond the grave, wielding his control over the Guidry family and her, even after death.
She leaned into Sam, trying to absorb his strength, failing miserably when she closed her eyes and saw Carson on the ground again, gasping for breath and covered in blood.
True, he’d recovered and had been standing, if a little unsteadily, by the time she and Sam had been taken away, but just the idea that he had been injured left Desiree sick with fear.
“Where do you think they’re taking us?”
“From the turns they’re making, it feels like back to the hotel.”
“Do you think Carson’s okay?” She had promised herself she wouldn’t ask, but she couldn’t help it. She needed reassurance after that scene back at the clearing.
Sam squeezed her shoulder. “Carson’s like you. He’s strong and he’s a fighter. He’s not going to let them defeat him.”
“But what if they decide not to honor Remy’s wishes? What if they go back on their word?” Everything she saw at the circle certainly pointed that way so far.
What was all that discussion about between Carson and the elder? Carson certainly hadn’t looked happy hearing what the elder had to tell him. He’d looked like an innocent man on death row who’d just had his last chance at a stay of execution revoked. He’d looked like a man betrayed—pretty much how Desiree felt now.
What were their options, however, except to go along for the ride and see where it took them?
Desiree hoped it wasn’t to the end of a road.
The Plexiglas slid down and Gaetan looked at them from the front passenger seat, showing a bit of fang as he grinned. “We’re here.”