With bared teeth, I limped back. I tried to ignore the fact that the other candidates had already moved on to the low crawl, while I used my weakening arms to head across.
The man overseeing the bars took pity on me and yelled, “Move faster. Grabbing each rung on its own takes longer.”
I took his advice and immediately felt the bite of wood in my palms. I felt at least two splinters but ignored them—and persevered. No pain, no gain.
When I reached the end of the bars, my chest was heaving and I stumbled to the low crawl. I wanted to rest and alleviate the burning sensation in my shoulders, but by then, the men had completed the next obstacle. And with calming drugs or not, I had to overcome the worse thing imaginable: I now had to crawl through dirty snow—some of it partially melted into a dark, gooey soup. The men had already stirred through it, and my mind recoiled at the thought of what their clothes looked like.
A panic attempted to settle in my chest, but I took a deep breath and lay down. Maybe if I channeled my inner wolf, it would convince me I was rolling within the mother forest. Yeah, right. The sweet scent of fresh snow mingled with mud and I knew my deep thinking wasn’t working worth shit. I couldn’t close my eyes as I crawled forward, but I could mumble, “Oh, that’s so gross.” A whimper settled in the back of my throat. “Happy place. Happy place. I’m in a happy place.”
Twenty feet later, I emerged from the low crawl to see the rope climb in the distance. Fifteen feet high with bright yellow rope hanging from the top, the wall was an imposing structure.
Ignoring the mud caking my arms, I grabbed the rope and made it about three feet before I knew I couldn’t ascend any farther.
This particular section had a woman to oversee it, Mrs. Pearce. She chuckled and then offered a conspiratorial grin. “You know, no one ever said you couldn’t use the trellis to get up.”
I nodded to her and quickly ascended via the support beams. Using this method, I caught up with the trailing candidate Sean.
He peered down as I ascended and laughed. “Hell, I should’ve done that.”
A hint of a smile broke out on my face, but it turned to horror when he suddenly lost his hold and plunged to the ground. Everything around us stopped for a moment—except for the snowflakes falling around him.
I was frozen in place as others raced to Sean and swarmed around him like excited worker bees. The snow darkened around his leg, where a bit of bone protruded from his pants. Not a simple break. It seemed so hauntingly similar to mine. Sean groaned and glanced my way as the chaos ensued around us. The rapid beating of my heart drowned out the noises of the men helping Sean.
His lips moved, and he mumbled faintly, “What the hell are you doing, Nat? Get going.”
I looked up and once again focused on climbing.
Ten minutes later, I huffed and puffed to finish the course. The balance beam and moat swing weren’t so bad. I clenched and unclenched my fists. The slow-healing blisters and burns would sting for a while. But they didn’t compare to the burning sensation in my leg. Like Nick had warned me, his healing magic had only gone so far.
I watched a few members of the pack carry Sean away. Should I have felt fright or sadness when he fell? Due to his fall, I’d survived this round. I would advance to the next round, but what would that mean for the family he had to support?
Wet, dirty, and near exhaustion, I lumbered over to where the rest of the finalists were gathered around Rex. Earlier, I’d seen Erica speaking with him. Why did she need to jump off her evil broomstick to bring malevolence and destruction to those around her?
“Looks like Sean has to bow out until next year, guys. Also, David Fields’s scores won’t qualify him for the next round so he’s out too,” Rex said.
I sighed. In the distance, I watched David down a beer one of his friends threw at him—glad that wasn’t me. I’d scraped past elimination so far.
“We’ve already assigned the pairings. Ian, you and Heath will face off.” Then he smiled at Kyle, a man far bigger than me. “Kyle, you and Natalya will fight.”
I glanced at Heath. The Reynolds brothers were solid men, but Kyle was the larger and stronger of the two. I smelled the stench of a Rex/Erica conspiracy.
For the final trial, the entire pack formed a large circle, with a gap for Old Farley to watch from the side. He sat in a worn lawn chair and peered at us with his beady eyes. When I glanced his way, he scowled even more than usual and took a swig from his Thermos.
First up were Ian and Heath. I wanted to show my support for Ian, but I had my own problems about to bust loose. As I assessed the two combatants, I suspected everyone would expect the younger werewolf to have an advantage over a man like Ian. But after a few unsuccessful charges and swings, Heath learned the hard way that Ian had combat training.
Especially after Ian’s fist connected with Heath’s nose and knocked him back five feet. His legs flipped over his head and he landed on the snow with a wet plop. I could’ve sworn it was Ian getting back at the dude who hit him with the butt of his gun at the Alamo.
Around me, werewolves cheered and yelled as blood was spilled. Under normal circumstances, I would’ve turned away. Carnage wasn’t my style, yet the wolf lingered under my skin and forced me to watch.
Heath’s brother picked him up and carried him off to the side, where Pearl waited to check the participants. When Kyle returned to our waiting area, he had nothing but fury and anger in his eyes. Waves of aggression poured from him, leaving me quaking from my toes to my knees. Six feet and five inches of solid werewolf stood between me and my entrance into the pack. But this wasn’t one of the werewolves who’d take pity on me, as Ian had on the course. From the way Kyle was rubbing his knuckles, he meant business. I was his final test, and he meant to pass.
How the heck could I beat him with a bad leg? But then again—no one knew about my leg, unless Erica had blabbed. Which was most likely the case, during that chat she’d had with Rex.
Rex urged Kyle and me forward to the center of the circle. He sneered at me, “You know the rules. First one to tap out or be knocked out loses.” He glanced at Kyle. “Good luck.”
As Rex backed away, I wished I knew how to fight properly. It wasn’t as if I couldn’t fight—like a girl, of course, but I could also unleash my claws with speed and agility. Unfortunately, none of those things mattered when brute strength was snapping your neck.
We faced each other, neither moving. Then Old Farley tapped his cane once on the ground, and Kyle charged.
In the distance, I heard Aggie yell, “Rip his ass a new one, Nat!”
As he raced toward me, I wondered if I could replicate Ian’s moves. After Kyle slammed me into the snow and knocked the back of my head against a rock, I realized I lacked such knowledge. Once on the ground, Kyle raised his fists like a mad ape and hit me squarely on my forehead.
Now, it’s said the forehead is the hardest part of the body. I would like to testify that this might be true, but Kyle wasn’t the one moaning in pain after the hit. Stars danced in front of my eyes for a half second. Then I formed a fist with one of my hands and struck him in his happy place—hard.
Like any man not wearing a cup, Kyle sputtered and used his hands to protect his package. Using the opportunity, I extracted my claws and raked them across his chest. The deep gouges bled heavily as he rolled off me, spurting curses.
“Get up, Nat!” Aggie screamed. “That’s it. Get him!” I tried to rise, and weaved. My head throbbed. This time was far worse than my head’s introduction to the dump truck’s dashboard. The sky and ground blended into one before separating again. Damn, he’d hit me hard. But I couldn’t just stand here, I had to make another move. I had to reach the end.
Unfortunately, I had come to this realization too late. Kyle had recovered quickly and now snatched the back of my neck. With a rough yank, he sent me face-first into the snow. I took in a mouthful of powdery white, then he raised my head again for a brief moment before pushing it back into the snow.<
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From that point, he pinned my face into the snow as I continued to thrash. I opened my mouth. Tried to turn my head to the side, while my lungs begged for air. No escape. All I had to do was tap out. Surrender. But as my hands clawed at his arms, the drive to release the wolf and win lost out. The efforts I’d made to decide to do this—even with the pain—were a waste. The moon debt I’d fulfilled for my family. I didn’t want them to be for nothing. But the odds were too great. My failure was assured.
I tapped Kyle’s shoulder—and sealed my fate in the same second.
When he released my head, I turned it to the side and took in a deep breath, which became spurts of wet coughs.
Through my haze, I heard Rex yell, “Kyle’s the winner!” Rex slapped the other man’s back to congratulate him. I rose on unsteady arms to sit Indian style in the snow. The sounds of cheering and disappointment blended into a strange cacophony around me. I’d failed.
Emptiness and sadness stabbed into my beaten torso. Aggie walked over to me and draped a blanket over my shoulders as Old Farley spoke. “Now that we have our entrants into the pack, Ian Denton and Kyle Reynolds, we can move on to our final task for the night.” Thorn’s father offered a rare smile to his son. “On this night, marriages are both severed and created.” The pack leader beckoned Erica forward. I couldn’t look at them anymore and, sagging into myself, wrapped the blanket closer. Not as protection from the chill in the air, that didn’t matter anymore, but as a—albeit flimsy—cushion of comfort for my sadness.
“You okay, Nat?” Aggie brushed the back of her hand against my cheek. “Don’t answer that. I know you’re not. I’m so sorry.”
I didn’t shift to look at her face. Nor did I search for my parents. Tears welled in my eyes, and I wiped a bit of blood off my forehead. I never should have attempted this in my condition. If I’d remained at home, I could have spent my New Year without the headache from hell or palms that throbbed.
I couldn’t look at Thorn and Erica. I refused to look at them. But it was like a car crash; I had to watch. For one final time I’d take in Thorn before he belonged to another. To my surprise, he was staring at me. Unwavering. His gaze reflected my pain, both the mental and physical. Then he said something that silenced the crowd and robbed me of my remaining breath.
“Don’t joke with me, son,” Old Farley grated.
Thorn repeated his words. Much more slowly this time. “I refuse to do it.”
Erica’s shoulders trembled, and she glanced from Farley to her father and then to Thorn. Did he refuse the pairing? Or did he refuse to fulfill his legacy as alpha male of the pack?
Erica took a step forward, her voice shaky. “What are you saying, Thorn?”
“You heard me quite clearly, father. I refuse to live with the decision you made.” He chuckled and bit his lower lip. “I’d already changed my mind a long time ago.”
Erica rolled her eyes. “What kind of bullshit is this? The pack needs a leader. Not a second-best replacement.”
Will crossed his arms and glared at Erica.
“No offense, Will, but if you would’ve been the first choice, your father would have appointed you.”
Will growled, “Plenty offense taken. And now I know why you don’t have a say.”
She thrust her manicured index finger in Will’s direction. “I will be the alpha female of this pack.” Her gaze returned to Thorn. “Baby, now, think about this. The pack needs the investments from my family.” Her hands reached for him, but she pulled back when he flinched. “This isn’t the time for you to turn into a lovesick pup. Is she worth more than your pack?”
My gaze flitted to the ground, and I wished I could ignore what words would come. He’d place the pack before me. That was our way. To make any other decision would be selfish.
From Thorn, I heard a heavy sigh. “Yes, she is.” A long pause. “I refuse to live without her. She’s meant to be my mate.”
Erica flung her hands in the air and spit out a string of curses. “Do you think I’ll allow you to ruin this night for me—fuck this!” Erica leaped in my direction, but before she could claw my eyes out, Aggie tackled her.
And what a sight Aggie made. She took a generous piece of Erica’s golden mane and used it to fling her backward. When Erica attempted to tear at Aggie’s face, my best friend slammed her fist square across the other woman’s chin. Suddenly Erica’s father was there, pulling his snapping and hissing daughter away from Aggie, while my father wrapped his bearlike arms around her.
“That’s enough, everyone!” Thorn thundered. “I will not renounce my choice.”
But Erica still wouldn’t be denied her moment. With blood trailing down the side of her delicate mouth, she sputtered in my direction, “You. Me. On my family’s honor, a challenge. A fight to the death. For the position of alpha female.”
A curtain of seriousness passed over everyone. The silence ended when Aggie whispered, “Oh, fuck.”
Chapter 27
Most folks who have been challenged to the death wear white-powdered wigs and sip wine with their pinky fingers extended in the air. They swung around and pointed their ancient pistols in duels to take out their rivals. On a cold wintry day in South Toms River, New Jersey, I wondered if I’d meet my maker on this night, sans the flamboyant drama.
Challenges to fights to the death among werewolves weren’t a casual “Ha! You challenged me to a death by battle.” During this kind of fight, someone had to die, kaput, that was all she wrote. And for that reason, I froze on the ground, staring at my hands as my heart skipped a beat—twice.
When I looked up at Thorn, I thought I was looking at a ghost. His pale face illustrated his fear. He was concerned I might not survive.
I almost expected him to intervene, he even took a step forward, but I put my palm up to stop him. This was my fight to finish.
That didn’t prevent Aggie and my mother from stumbling toward me. Mom begged, with tears wetting her cheeks, “Let me stand in her place. You don’t need to do this, Natalya.” Then she reached to grab at Erica’s father. “I beseech you. Don’t allow this to happen.”
But Mom’s words fell on deaf ears. Tradition was tradition. And among the pack, even my mother held tight to the Code. Among all the excited chatter, I tried to ignore the soft cries of my grandmother. In between sobs, she murmured the Lord’s Prayer in Russian.
Aggie pulled me up and whispered, “You and I both know you can’t walk away from this. I can create a diversion, though, and you can run away—”
Through my layers of pain, I smiled at my friend. If this was the end, I would end my life on a high note. Thorn had chosen me. Me. And even if Erica ended my life, she couldn’t take back the words he’d spoken in front of everyone. “Thank you, Aggie. For everything.”
I shifted my gaze to Erica. “I accept your challenge for the position of alpha female for the South Toms River pack.” Weariness tugged at my shoulders, and my leg throbbed painfully, but I tried to stand tall.
Farley ambled forward on his cane. He barked, “Apparently we have a real fight coming.” He assessed both of us, his frown shifting into a malicious grin. “About time I saw some real blood spilled tonight.”
Erica stood at the edge of the circle with an air of fury marring her perfect features. The debutante had been washed away. Now only the ugly ice queen remained.
“You ladies know the rules. Both of you fight until we have a victor and the loser is dead. No one,” he eyed Aggie, “is allowed to intervene.”
Aggie lowered her head and shrunk back.
Erica’s mouth formed a snarl. She rushed to unbutton her coat. Fiery and hungry to fight, she tossed it to the ground. The whole time she did this preening, I slowly unzipped my coat. I mean, who in their right mind should be in a hurry for an ass-beating?
The wolf within me hungered for this final confrontation. A chance to set things right had always been desired. But I was in control now. And this type of thought brought me both joy and self-confide
nce. I refused to surrender to the bloodlust.
“Oh, come on, bitch!” She paced back and forth, panting gusts of air that formed a fog around her. “Don’t think by going so slow you’ll get me to change my mind about tearing your throat out.”
How ladylike. From the way she behaved, I doubt the local Girl Scout troop leader would use her as a mentor. Not with that potty mouth. As she stared me down with rising fury, I continued at my own pace, my gaze never leaving her. By the time I discarded my coat, a growl rose in her throat as she surrendered to her wolf and hunched over for the transformation. But I didn’t give her a chance to start. I leaped toward her, swinging.
Erica reacted quickly to my move and slid out of the way. For my quick-thinking, I was rewarded with a vicious jab to my face. Her other hand swiped down my shoulder gouging my left arm. I stumbled away, but she wasn’t done with me. She pounced and grabbed a fistful of my hair. Pain coursed through my scalp. Raw and vicious. Then she slammed my head into the snow. Again and again. The spittle from her growls fell on my face as she continued ramming the back of my head into the earth.
Since I’d recently fought with Kyle, the black spots so close to the surface returned. Thud! What the hell are you doing? Kick this crazy bitch!
I drew my legs in and thrust upward. The movement sent Erica flying into the crowd. She crashed into a few werewolves, who pushed her back into the circle with glee. Woozy, I could barely make out their yellow glowing eyes. Their excited growls. They wanted to see more blood.
The snow continued to fall and cast a strange scene as Erica came for me again, her blonde hair bouncing as she plowed into me with her claws extended. I used her momentum and propelled her again into the onlookers.
Deep in the crowd, Becky cackled, “Kill her, Erica!”
My moment of recovery didn’t last long. She jumped on my back and viciously clawed at my ribs. From the way she feverishly swiped and scraped at my clothes, she wanted to rip my body in two.
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