“And those who can’t shift?”
“There are three options and none of them kind. There are those who still pledge. They show some promise or skill that will benefit the pack, but without the ability to shift, they are treated as secondhand citizens. The others, the weakest, are disowned.”
“But they’re just kids.”
Griffin gave her a cynical look. “They’re shifters.”
“And the third option?” Raven wasn’t sure she wanted to know anymore.
“The last option doesn’t happen often.” Griffin paced the confines of the room. “Someone in the pack has to vouch for them. That means both are held responsible for any transaction the kid commits until they prove themselves worthy.”
She didn’t believe for a second that he hadn’t passed the test. “You vouched for someone.”
Griffin stopped short and gave a bitter laugh, his stillness more unsettling than his pacing. “You’re very observant.”
Raven kept her questions to herself when she realized he was talking about himself. If she interrupted him, it would never happen again. With each step, his agitation increased, heat flashed in the room until his wolf filled the space.
“A younger man was brought into the pack. A brother. Father had successfully mated with a human. When the kid had reached puberty, he became violent. His wolf was starting to emerge. His mother had no way to deal with the rage and dropped him off on Father’s step to deal with.
“The pack wanted nothing to do with him. He was nearing maturity, so they just waited. When the time came to crest, he failed. He was impure. Too much human blood. They labeled him as worthless and voted to exile him.”
“So you stepped in.”
“He was my brother. He deserved a chance to prove himself.”
“But something went wrong.”
Griffin nodded, a curious lack of emotion of his face. “His first moon hit him hard. He became obsessed with a woman and lost control.
“He slaughtered her before I could stop him. It’s an automatic death sentence. I vouched for him. I was responsible. For his crime, they chose to exile me.” Exile for a true blood shifter like him was a fate worse than death.
“And your condition?”
“Came with the exile. Being rogue forces your animal closer to the surface. You have to be ever vigilant and brutal. The only way to survive was to merge completely. For the first few weeks, I thought I was going insane. Then everything settled.”
It made sense. Evolution had forced his body to adapt. Shifter genetics accelerated the mutations. “It’s your gift.”
Griffin laughed abruptly. “I’m not sure I would go that far.”
Raven jerked in surprise, seeing he really didn’t understand. “Haven’t you noticed that a few shifters have developed certain talents? I think yours is the ability to access both forms at once without serious side effects.”
Griffin didn’t look convinced.
“Some people who lack in one area have a special ability to adapt in others.”
When he continued to gaze at her a little too intently, Raven shifted uncomfortably. Then he cocked his head. “And what is your talent?”
“Getting into trouble.” She muttered it under her breath, and his deep laugh startled them both. Her lips unconsciously curled at his genuine humor.
“And what kind of trouble are you in now?”
She switched off the computer and walked toward the door. “I think it’s time to meet your father and ask him some questions.”
All amusement drained from Griffin’s expression, but he didn’t try to talk her out of it anymore.
“Tell me where I can find him.”
* * *
Raven couldn’t stop fidgeting as she entered the country club doors. Even with Griffin running interference, it had taken her half an hour to sneak out of the house.
He wasn’t keen that she’d went alone, but disliked the idea of anyone else going with her, where his secrets could be exposed, even less. Despite their shared past, they danced around each other, neither ready to fully trust the other.
Dark and masculine, the club catered toward the rich and influential clientele. She’d bet her house the likes of her kind had never been granted access beyond the service counter. The ancient age of the building pressed down on her, the atmosphere terribly expensive, but surprisingly tasteful. Dressed in jeans, a long sleeve shirt, gloves and boots, she stood out like a scarecrow at a bonfire.
The uniformed man at the front counter wore a suit more expensive than all her clothes put together. He smiled as she neared. She’d give him credit when his smile stayed steady when he got a good look at her scruffy self. But beneath, she could all but see his wolf turn up his tail and dismiss her. “I’m sorry, but only club members are allowed—”
“Tell Mr. Donaldson that I’m here to see him.”
“I’m afraid that—”
“It’s about his son.” Raven lowered her shields and allowed the heat and scent of the many shifters beyond the double doors to call her own. Her wolf rose without any prompting and peered out through her eyes. Wildness licked through her at the freedom.
The man stopped his protests, his face unreadable as he picked up his phone and dialed. “If you will take a seat, I’ll see if he is available.”
She expected to be kept waiting, but less than five minutes passed before an imposing man in a full-out tux came from the room beyond. The barrel-chested man was not what she expected. There were similarities to his son, the way he leashed so much power around him, the blank eyes that gave nothing away, and the purposeful way he strode forward, expecting everyone else to get out of the way. She stood at his approach, refusing to be intimidated by his hard expression.
When she opened her mouth, he held up his hand. “Follow me.” He didn’t even slow his pace as he walked past her and through another doorway to her right. She turned and obediently followed.
And found herself in a library of sorts. A few tables were discreetly set up around the room. Fireplaces brightened the area enough to give off a welcoming glow. At their entrance, a few people glanced up, took in Donaldson’s stiff countenance, and quickly left. He faced her, lighting a cigar.
She wrinkled her nose and waved her hand. He immediately tapped out the embers, but the job was done. Her sense of smell was destroyed. Sneaky, though she should’ve anticipated that given Griffin’s warning.
“What do you want?”
“I have a few questions I need to ask about the conclave.” She met his regard directly, refusing to be cowed when his mind crashed into her shields with a clang. When another few moments passed at a standstill, she raised a brow. She refused to wince and show the pain, curling her hands into fists until her nails cut into her palms. “Done?”
“Who are you.” The question was a demand, and the pain immediately stopped.
“That’s not how this works. You answer my questions, and I’ll do my best to answer yours.” And try to keep as much of her secrets safe as she could.
There was a short pause before he walked toward the sideboard. She must have passed some sort of test. “Ask.”
“Are you aware of anyone who would want to stop the conclave from taking place?”
Donaldson paused in pouring to study her. “Everyone. Your name.”
“Raven.” She eyed him in turn, noting he didn’t offer her a drink. When she opened her mouth, he waved a hand.
“I suggest you ask your questions with better care.” Humor danced in his eyes, and she took him at face value.
“A number of deaths have increased with the coming full moon.” Donaldson just stared at her, not denying or confirming anything. “I think the recent murders are tied to the approaching conclave.”
Still no response.
“I want to know if you think this could be a grab for power from within the conclave or an attack on it as a whole.”
“You’re quick. I’ll give you that.” He took a calm sip of his drin
k, never taking his attention from her.
His comment so mimicked his son, it was uncanny. She refused to twitch under his formidable stare. Something in his gaze made it feel like he could see right through her shields and steal all her secrets in a single breath. A flutter of panic gurgled in her stomach, but she held her ground.
Donaldson raised his own brow then relented. “Either option is possible, though not likely. We bring too much influence to the shifters. If the power structure were to change, the shifters would not be as prosperous, and that would hurt everyone. As for an individual trying for a seat on the conclave, maybe, but the attack would have to be more direct.”
Raven tipped her head at his response, her senses sharpening. “Direct approach? I never said how they died.”
“I believe it’s my turn to ask the question.” He set down his glass. “Do you even know my son?”
The intensity in his eyes increased, snippy at the thought of being tricked. Griffin warned her to choose her words with care if his father asked. “I’ve met him.”
Those eyes narrowed further. “Where?”
“You might say we were hunting the same killers.” She didn’t know why she said it, why she protected Griffin, but it felt right.
Donaldson sighed, seemingly eased at her confession. “He’s still playing games, I see.”
Raven thought about asking how he knew about the deaths, but figured someone in his position would have contacts. She didn’t want to waste her question. “You know about the deaths. Does that mean you have an idea of who might be behind them?”
He laughed out-right, and she saw the charismatic man that had the ability to hold a room full of alphas if he’d wished. “You’re a clever little thing, aren’t you.” He set down the glass and walked toward the door. “I don’t, but I suspect you’ll find out the truth soon enough.” He paused by the door without bothering to face her. “Try to keep my son out of trouble if you can.”
Chapter Ten
FIVE DAYS UNTIL THE FULL MOON
By the time she’d left the country club, midnight had come and gone. The moon beat down on her, its rays a cool threat of things to come. The exhaust smells of the cars had lifted, and she could almost taste the chill in the air. Raven walked a block to her car, her thoughts lost in what Donaldson had said and so artfully not said.
She unlocked the door when a shiver worked up her back. Not giving herself a chance to think, she threw her body sideways.
Most people hesitated for fear of feeling stupid if they overreacted.
Raven would rather be alive.
The baseball bat meant for her head cracked against her car window. A waterfall of glass hit the road. Raven whirled, stumbling to her feet. Two teens, hoodies raised, charge toward her. Menace pooled around them.
“Can we talk about this?” Their movements were faster than humans, almost a blur.
The guy with the bat wound up and swung again. She rolled over the back of the trunk and landed on the other side of the vehicle. Her car wasn’t so lucky. The rear light shattered under the impact meant for her knee.
“You should’ve minded your own business, Region.” The other boy hurried after her, a blade shimmering under the streetlight. Instead of running, she dropped into the fighting stance London had drilled into her. She lashed out with her foot, knocking the blade from his hand.
It was a tossup which one of them was more surprised, her or the kid. Unfortunately, he recovered quicker, swinging his fist. She weaved to dodge the blow, but his fingers grazed her jaw. That she could’ve handled, but she hadn’t anticipated the brass knuckles.
Her skin split open. Blood spilled down her neck. Up close, she could see a shock of hair fall over his brow. His clean jaw indicated the kid was no more than fifteen years old. No animal blazed out from his hazel eyes, but the potential was there. His eyes widened when he caught her looking, fear turning them green.
She spun and without thinking, slammed her foot into his knee. A rumble of rage or pain ripped from his throat, but she had no time to find out which. The mini-league wannabe was up to bat again.
A metal bat.
A really stupid, totally irrational idea grabbed her. Running didn’t even enter her mind. They’d be on her before she made it back to the club. Raven pretended to stumble. She pushed her back against the car, taking comfort from the cold metal against her spine.
When bat came down toward her head, she ducked. Metal thunked against the roof of her car. She reached up, and saturated the bat with electricity.
A hum filled the air at the sheer quantity of juice she funneled. Lights all the way down the street flickered as she drew the power from the city grid.
The jolt slammed into the kid with enough force to toss him back a few feet. He landed hard, skidding a yard before he stilled. Fear that she’d killed him curled through her. Then he coughed as he grasped for air, rolled to his side, but didn’t rise.
Raven slowly straightened. The other kid hobbled over to his friend, practically picked him up and scurried away. She debated going after them, but reason asserted itself. If they turned on her, she couldn’t guarantee she’d win the next round.
As adrenaline wore off, her chin throbbed. She probed the bruised area and winced at the pain, her jaw already swelling.
“Shit.” She was so busted. There was no way to hide that. Though already clotting, she wouldn’t be anywhere near healed before she arrived home. She scrubbed away the blood and walked around her poor vehicle.
Her once pristine new car.
London was going to kill her.
The roof had a huge dent, the window was gone and the rear light was not only broke, the bumper was crumbled as well. The kids had been stronger than she’d anticipated.
Because of the new Alpha drug Randolph had mentioned? But that made little sense. Why target her?
There had been a wildness to them, a lust for violence that seemed reckless. They reminded her of Griffin without the taste of alpha on them.
More rogues.
Scraping the keys off the road, she groaned and all but fell into the car.
The ride home dragged on as she riddled out everything she’d learned. Most importantly, why rogues had targeted to kill her when she was working to save them?
And she had no doubt that they would’ve killed her. She was faster than before, but still not quick enough. She needed to be better. Needed to train harder and trust her animals more. If they had sent anyone but boys, she doubted she would’ve come out on top.
By the time she parked the car and trudged toward the front steps, exhaustion had mugged her and won. All she wanted was a hot shower and a bag of ice.
Hand on her jaw, she opened the door and pulled up short.
Four men littered the hallway: Durant, Jackson, Taggert and Dominic in his wolf form. As one, all eyes riveted on her like she was a ghost. She could’ve kicked herself for not getting a clue when the house was lit up like a beacon. “Uh, what’s up?”
She carefully kept her hand on her jaw, thankful the light spilling from the study didn’t reach her. She angled her body to better hide in the shadows. Unobtrusively as possible, she wrapped the darkness around her to smudge her appearance. She dropped her arm to her side. If they looked at her jaw directly, they’d be able to see the injury. Otherwise, she should be safe.
Dominic reacted first, stalking toward her on stiff legs, his fur ruffled on end in outrage. Tags and a harness rested on the floor, the only way a shifter in animal form could go out in public. No one would’ve mistaken his beast for a pet.
Then there was Durant. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”
“Where were you?” The calm, soothing tone of Durant’s voice raised her hackles.
No one moved. Their extreme reaction alarmed her. “I went to meet a guy about the case I’m working. Didn’t Griffin tell you?”
“He gave us some cockamamie story about you meeting an alpha on your own then proceeded to disappear. That was hours a
go.”
“It was for the case I’m working.” So why did that sound like a lame excuse?
“Work is fine, but you are not just a Region. You’re the alpha of this pack. Please tell me you’re not stupid enough to endanger yourself by meeting another alpha without any type of backup.” He stepped toward her, and his nostrils flared. In seconds, he was at her side.
She tried to turn away, but he had her face gripped in his big palms before she could so much as twitch. She sucked in a breath when his fingers swept ever so lightly over her injury as if brushing away the darkness she’d grabbed.
Stupid.
Of course they scented the blood.
“What the hell happened to you?” He tipped her face into the light. Jackson whitened, clearly holding himself responsible. Taggert’s reaction hurt the worse. He stared at her with wounded eyes. Not that she was injured, but that she’d left without telling him and broke his trust.
Their expectations were too much. They treated her as a prisoner. “You’re overreacting. You knew I had a meeting.”
“But you conveniently forgot to tell us where. You can’t go into a potential dangerous situation and not expect us to react.”
“The meeting went smoothly. Why make it into such a big deal?”
A rumble of anger worked up Durant’s chest, her question testing his patience. “You’re the alpha. Even a male wouldn’t have left his pack without protection. Until you achieve pack status, your situation is even more precarious. And to make it worse, you know what I’m saying is true. Look at you. You’re injured.”
“But not from the meeting.” Admitting the truth was humiliating. She was a fully-grown female. She could take care of herself, yet two teens nearly took her down. “I was attacked getting into my car.”
Durant captured her wrist in his grip. When she tugged, his hold clamped down like a vise, and he dragged her unceremoniously toward the kitchen.
He slammed the swinging door open so hard it warbled and rebounded off the wall. She barely caught the wood before it thumped into her. Durant yanked out a chair, wood screeching across the floor, before shoving it under her ass. She plopped inelegantly on the seat with an oomph.
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