“Yes. It’s how we settle matters of rank. Or…disputes.”
That last word sounded awfully loaded. I gave him a skeptical look. “Any dispute? So, what—it’s a fight to the death if someone steals your sandwich?”
Raoul smiled, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “When Kane challenged me, it was only about getting dominance. It wasn’t much worse than a wrestling match. Even if he did play dirty.” He made a face. “But at Ilsa’s level…”
When he trailed off, I rubbed my arms nervously. “What?”
“Well, it depends on how much of her tale you believe.” His voice was dark, and his gaze was turned away, toward the cabin where his father was still slowly dying. I watched him uncomfortably, because I was afraid I knew what he meant.
Ilsa said she’d given that drug of hers to everyone but the Elder, which was why we were getting “better,” while he was getting worse. It seemed awfully convenient, though. Would someone who’d had his kind of strength really just…degrade like that…while Ilsa was busy playing power games behind the scenes?
“You’re worried she really did do something to hurt the Elder,” I whispered. “That she was trying to get him out of her way. Aren’t you?”
His jaw clenched. The depth of his anger came through all too clearly then, even if he didn’t say a word.
I shuddered. “If that’s true, then what do we do?” When he still didn’t answer, I added in a lower tone, “You told Brandon we can’t just go off and do anything crazy. I hope you meant it.”
His eyes flashed, but then he sighed. “Yes, I did.”
“So then what? I mean…God, Raoul, I don’t even know how I’m getting through the next twenty-four hours. Can we even stay up here? If the police want us gone, where are we supposed to go?”
“We’re out of their jurisdiction, so they can’t actually kick us out. They might just make it difficult. Cut the power lines, maybe. The well pump won’t work if they do. The space heaters won’t, either. The cold alone might kill my father. And he doesn’t have the strength for a move.” He flinched. “Yesterday he didn’t even know my name.”
“Oh, God. I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “He’s why I have to know the truth.”
There wasn’t much I could say to that, except to silently agree. Raoul watched me nod, then sighed again. We were standing so close I felt the warmth of it this time.
“You’re right, though,” he murmured. “I need to do this right. I need to wait until I can think straight. And that’s…a little hard from here.”
I didn’t catch on to what he was getting at until I heard the catch to his voice. The heat of his gaze was palpable. I fidgeted with the too-tight sleeves of my borrowed shirt, and kept doing it even as he tried to reach out for me.
“Sorry,” I said, on the verge of babbling. “I’m just not cut out for this wardrobe. I don’t know what I’m going to do about clothes up here. All my… stuff is…”
At home. At home, where I can’t go. At home where nobody wants me—
“Here,” he said, snapping me out of it. “Take mine.”
With only that shred of warning, he unbuttoned his shirt, slid it off, and handed it over.
I wasn’t sure if it was an offer or a challenge to undress. I knew werewolves couldn’t afford much modesty, but in that instant I went from emotionally shaken to blushing all over. I didn’t know quite what to do. Then again, part of me wanted to give up and do something reckless after all this. So I undid the buttons on my own shirt, shrugged it off and let it fall, then slanted a glance at Raoul through my ever-present curtain of hair.
He was suddenly blushing, too. I tugged his shirt on, taking my time at it, and watched to see how many times his gaze drifted downward while I did up the buttons. I counted three.
“Thanks,” I murmured, huddling into the too-big shirt. It was comfortable, at least, and it smelled like him. Suddenly all I wanted was the comfort of that, of being close to someone.
When my eyes clouded over, Raoul read the pain in my face.
“I know you wouldn’t have picked this,” he said quietly. “And I’m sorry for what you lost, too. But I’m glad you’re here. That you’re with me. That we have something.”
It took me a minute to reply, but at last I managed it. “Me, too,” I whispered.
He pulled me in, just enough that I could lean in against his chest and feel him breathe. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
In the midst of all this, I’d take whatever I could get.
Chapter Twenty-One
The next morning, I woke to find breakfast at my bedside.
Even in those first few half-coherent moments, I realized several things. I knew who’d left that plate there. I knew why she’d left it there. I also knew I ought to be furious at such an obvious look-how-helpful-I’m-being tactic.
Instinct and hunger, though, overrode everything else, and before I had a chance to sort out my thoughts, I was staring at an empty plate, swallowing the astringent aftertaste. “Damn it,” I muttered.
Then I stood up.
Life without pain when you’re used to feeling nothing but is a strange, strange experience, Pretty soon I had another uncomfortable thought to contend with: it was no wonder Ilsa had been getting away with murder for so long.
I did, I admit, take a few selfish moments to indulge. I moved any which way I wanted, swiveling at the waist, touching my toes—seriously, touching my toes without pulling a muscle or twisting my back? Since when did that work? I did it once, amazed, and then I did it again, and stretched luxuriously on the way back up.
That’s how Brandon found me when he wandered back in from another night out. He wasn’t wearing anything at all, and I’m pretty sure my face turned as red as your average fire engine.
“Come on,” he said. “Stretch up a little higher and I’ll be able to see your underwear.”
I glowered. What a way to kill the mood.
“Well, somebody saw all of you already,” he went on, waving at Raoul’s shirt. I’d been sleeping in it. I plucked self-consciously at the rumpled fabric. “It sure didn’t take you two long.”
“You thought—Jesus, Brandon. You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I?”
“Please,” I said, pained. “I am not having this conversation until you put on some pants.”
He snorted. “Everyone gets somebody,” he muttered. “Almost.”
I wondered if he meant Antonella. Of all the things he’d lost in this mess, his girlfriend couldn’t be at the top of the priority list…but it still had to hurt. He’d been trying to convince her to come away with him, and she’d said no.
I suddenly wondered exactly how much he’d offered her. And exactly how much she’d said no to.
I would have felt almost sympathetic, except for his next snarky comment.
“I wouldn’t want to sleep with you anyway,” Brandon told me dismissively. “I mean, Marcus turning you practically makes you my sister.”
Um. Ew. “Not…literally.”
“What?” he said, leering at last. “You don’t want to miss out on the fun?”
I turned to storm out, but he caught my wrist, pulling me uncomfortably close. His eyes were suddenly wild. I looked down to avoid it, which wasn’t the best choice, but at least it gave me a rejoinder. “Don’t flatter yourself,” I snapped. “You’re not that impressive.”
Amazingly, he ignored the insult. Instead he asked, “You’re not going to let her get away with this, are you?”
For a second I didn’t know what he meant. Then I was too horrified to reply.
“Raoul may be a weirdo reject freak, but he was right. I’m in no shape to take her on like this. But you…you’re on the upswing. You’re going to be stronger than any of us for a few days. And you’ve got every reason to take her on.”
“You’re asking me to challenge Ilsa?” I breathed. “Are you crazy?”
“I’m right.”
&nbs
p; I stared. Brandon was about to demand an answer, but then his head whipped toward the window. Someone was walking toward the cabin, and I could recognize that pale aura even from here.
Brandon scowled and released me. “Might be a good time for you to get your big girl pants on,” he said.
I took him literally, if not exactly metaphorically, and yanked the rest of my clothes back on before going to meet Ilsa.
It was hard to pinpoint her mood. Her hair was pulled back tight, her clothes starkly plain, and her expression flickered in and out of emotion before going unreadable. “B. I was looking for you.”
Right. And someone just asked me to kill you. Time for a friendly chat! I thought, struggling to keep the words muffled enough that she wouldn’t overhear.
“I’m…not sure this living situation is going to work,” I said aloud instead.
Ilsa only sighed. “I’ve meant to speak with you about this. You must feel like you’ve joined the pack under duress, and especially considering your brother…this can’t be easy. I will try to make things better for you here, B.”
I twitched at the mere mention of Grey. Besides, she’d missed half my point. “I, um, meant this particular cabin,” I said uneasily, thumbing over my shoulder at it. “If Brandon’s sharing it.”
She made a face. “Yes, he may have to be moved. I worry that he’s not the safest companion right now.”
Ilsa turned to the fire pit, lifted up a long stick and used it to poke through the ashes, as if she were hoping to uncover some still-glowing ember that could light the way. I didn’t even want to consider what else might be left behind in the remains. “No matter what, we need to bring the pack back together.”
She said we like I was her special confidante. It made me shiver. How did I get into the middle of all this?
“I can only imagine what you must think of me,” she whispered. “But I have to believe I made the right choices. Just look at you.”
“Yeah,” I muttered. “Everyone’s getting an eyeful today.”
A smile quirked her lips. Then she went for the kill.
“You deserve more honesty, so I’ll tell you honestly. If you decided to challenge me for supremacy, all you’d have to do is order me down and I’d have to accept it. You are that powerful, B. Or you would be if you believed it.” Her head tilted in an oddly canine gesture. “But what would it accomplish? What good would it do to reduce our numbers again? To be that much more divided, with no one to help us? We’re stronger together. And you’re stronger with my help. Even if you hate me now, I can do my best to make amends.”
And then, I thought, you’d put me at your side as your brand-new Kane. Is that it?
I have no idea if she heard my thoughts. She only held that eerily intense stare. “If we changed things here, would you stand with me?” She moved a step closer. “You want to be well, don’t you, B?”
And what could I say to that? “I guess,” I mumbled.
Ilsa smiled again, in her not-quite-a-smile way. Then she returned her gaze to the fire pit, where she traced out unreadable swirls. “Until we find a place to move Brandon, I think the two of us should go out. Tonight.”
“Go where?”
Ilsa spun her makeshift poker, then clasped it in a sharp, decisive gesture. “We’ll meet again at twilight. I want to take you on a hunt.”
It was a good thing I managed to stifle the one reply that came to mind.
Oh, crap.
*
I kind of have to start with the logistics.
Werewolf transformation isn’t entirely a full-moon routine. If it were, I’d have had an easier time fighting back the urge. As it is, the possibility is always there, but the difficulty waxes and wanes. It’s nearly impossible at the new moon, and impossible to resist at the full. But in between, as Ilsa reminded me, whenever you choose to change doesn’t particularly matter. Daylight, midnight, middle of the moon cycle, whatever.
Of course, nothing would do for Ilsa but to go hunting under gloomy, dank, impenetrable darkness. Color me shocked.
Granted, the cover was probably necessary. We stuck out. Regular wolves would have been smaller, and last I checked, they didn’t set out to hunt as some demented sort of group therapy. I’m sure anyone who saw Ilsa and me would have been confused at best.
Or probably just horrified.
I was also doing my best not to look like I wanted to escape. I might have been in less pain than usual, thanks to Ilsa’s evening meal, but I sure as hell didn’t want to be out there. Soon I was resorting to a just-smile-and-nod strategy to get through proceedings, and since smiling or nodding in wolf form is a little ridiculous, that wasn’t working out too well.
Too many thoughts, Ilsa said. Easy. Run with it.
She sounded just like Grey, telling me I think too much. I loosed a whine I hadn’t meant to make, and I think she sensed why.
Let it go, she murmured.
Moral of this entire evening, right there. I cringed, and struggled to catch up.
We were in the hills behind the cabins. It was rough terrain, and I was blundering about with less coordination than she had. Moral of the story number two, probably: don’t underestimate me. Of course, she also had the advantage of knowing what we were after. I had no idea.
Then she lifted her muzzle, scenting out something. There.
I breathed in, trying to catch it, too. I didn’t have enough experience to know what was out there, but at least something smelled alive. Vital. I could sense the blood beneath the surface of its skin, warm and waiting. Embarrassingly, my mouth watered.
It will run, she said. It fears us. Drive it to me.
I asked uneasily, Which way?
She made a wolfish grin and loped off. I’ll call, was all she said.
So it was up to me to figure out what I was supposed to be chasing. I finally got the idea when I saw a flash of movement through the trees. It looked like a deer. My human heart seized. Sure, I’d eaten venison here before, but that was different than facing the living animal. I liked deer, for all that they were terrified of me.
But my wolf side, hungry and eager, propelled me forward. Eastward, I guessed. Roughly towards my so-called leader.
The deer had other plans, of course, but so did Ilsa.
It was fast, but she was, too—fast and clever, and she knew how to outsmart panic. When the deer went frantic, she seemed to anticipate where it would go. I could see her pale form steering the animal one way or another, keeping it in line.
Then she called to me. To the wall.
I didn’t know what she meant until I saw the angled cliff face ahead, forming a corner. I hurried forward, driving the deer to a hopeless trap. The deer made terrible, wheezing sounds of distress, and I felt so awful I came to an awkward stop, unable to get any closer.
Then I heard the snarl as Ilsa sprang toward her victim.
She wasn’t going for the kill. Her jaws clamped around one of the deer’s legs, forcing another terrible sound from its throat as its front knees buckled. It was still thrashing, but she was tenacious. I could smell the blood and was suddenly starving. But I could see that wild, pained look in its eyes, too. I hesitated.
Finish it, Ilsa demanded.
I hadn’t the faintest idea what to do. I couldn’t make any claims to being a vegetarian, but there’s all the human logic we use to excuse our place in the food chain…and then there was this. You couldn’t even dress it up as “kill or be killed.” It was just primal superiority.
We are better than them, Ilsa said, so vehemently that “them” probably meant “everyone in the world.”
The deer, still struggling, gave another pitiful gasp. It was too much. I ended it. I only hope it was fast enough to count as mercy.
Ilsa howled in triumph. I drew back, blood in my mouth, as she paced toward me. This is what we are. Hunters. Powerful. Never to be weakened. I’ll fight it. Any means necessary.
Moral of the story, part three. I wanted to cry. Ilsa, on the ot
her hand, radiated satisfaction.
We should share with the pack. But I say this one is for us.
I guess Ilsa was thinking we had an alliance now, that I’d come around to her side. After the viciousness she’d just shown—which could just as easily be turned at me—what could I do but agree?
It didn’t change the fact that after we got back, returned to human form, and she left me at my door, I stumbled out back and threw up until there was nothing left. Finally I managed to scrape some dirt over the mess. It probably wouldn’t help. Anyone around here could smell it just fine.
All I could hope was that nobody asked any questions. I’d already been conquered thoroughly enough for one night, and it was well past time to beat an exhausted retreat.
Chapter Twenty-Two
I woke Raoul with a shovel the next morning. That is, I was holding one when I found him sleeping on the battered sofa downstairs from his father’s room. I watched him with my heart in my throat, then nudged him awake and hoped for the best.
What I got was sleep-hazed bemusement, then recognition. It was a subtle change. He didn’t smile, didn’t even move, but what I felt was acceptance, really—the quiet feeling that it was right for me to be there. I wished I could have crawled in next to him and stayed for hours.
Instead I said, “Come with me?”
He didn’t even ask why.
Retracing the steps from last night was a haphazard process. The path looked and smelled fainter in human form, and I wasn’t about to go wolf again to fix the difference. For one thing, I was sore. I don’t know if it was from bad sleep, overexertion, or withdrawal from whatever Ilsa was giving us. After all, last night’s meal had been fresh meat, without any of Ilsa’s little medical bonuses. I resisted the urge to look at my wrists for the dark smudges Raoul had shown me. Knowing wasn’t going to help.
Raoul asked what we were after, though. “We… left something last night,” I told him. “I don’t want to leave it there alone.”
Strange thing to say, I suppose, but he stayed with me all the way, until he nearly tripped over the bones.
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