If it weren’t for their fathers’ meddling, he wouldn’t have minded pulling her behind a tree and letting off some steam. Shifters did it all the time, but if one of them had their eyes out for a mate, it could turn into one hell of a nightmare fast.
Raider didn’t want complications, and the more Emerson gazed into his eyes, the more he struggled to figure out what she was up to. Raider wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer. Better to play it safe by putting her off.
He dropped his arm, freeing himself from her fingers, and cleared his throat. “Look, Emerson, it’s nice having you on council, but Sasha’s right. This is serious business.”
“I know that, Raider. Don’t you think I take the safety of my baby half sister seriously?”
“I, uh—” He hadn’t thought of that.
Letting go of the lock of hair she’d been twirling, Emerson frowned. “I feel sorry for Wolfrik, but Jordan said he grabbed Sasha when he first returned and left bruises on her arms. Before he steps one paw in the den, he needs to get it together.” Emerson took a step back, giving Raider his space. “Good luck with that,” she said with a cheeky smile before spinning around and disappearing into the trees.
Before he had a chance to head to the glade, his father stepped out from behind a large, hollowed-out tree stump.
Raider lurched in place. He hated the way his heart jackhammered every time he was taken off guard. It had never happened before the attack on Kallie.
“Son of a bitch,” Raider muttered, the words calming him. He glared at his father. “Have you been listening in this entire time?”
Garrick strutted into the small clearing with a sniff. “Not much to listen in on. No humping—no thanks to you. She’d bend over for you in a heartbeat if you’d stop being bullheaded for ten seconds.”
Folding his arms over his chest, Raider sneered at his father. “Ten seconds? Is that all it takes you?”
Garrick smirked in answer. “At least I see you’re getting in good with Palmer and his daughter.” He seemed to have forgotten Raider had voted “yea” before either of them. “Palmer and I had another long talk, and we’re confident that a claim between you and one of his daughters would strengthen our alliance. Palmer is one of the hollow’s last remaining elders. Our families need to stick together.”
Raider grunted. “Our alliance is with the pack. Besides, I have no interest in any of Palmer’s girls.”
“Is there someone else you are interested in?” Garrick asked. When no answer came, he guffawed. “Exactly as I suspected. There’s no reason for you not to pick among Palmer’s daughters. After all, there are four to choose from. You’re on council with Emerson, and I’ve talked to Jager about pairing you with Jordan on patrol.”
“I have to patrol with someone anyway,” Raider said in a mocking voice.
“You’ll do more than patrol with her, boy.” Garrick’s voice boomed.
Raider prowled up to his father, twisting his lips in indignation. “Careful, Garrick. I’m bigger and stronger than you.”
His father had the good sense to tremble just the slightest bit before growling and turning on his heel to storm away in a huff, leaving his honey-coated instructions stuck to Raider’s mind. A vision of Jordan naked and dripping wet flashed through his memory with provoking clarity. If she’d remained in the lake and flirted with him, it would have been easier to dismiss her, but she’d hurried out as though fleeing from him. Despite himself, the wolf inside Raider perked up, wanting to give chase.
“Down, boy,” Raider whispered.
He had a long month to get through.
chapter three
A feeling of tranquility filled the den as families gathered in front of their huts and seated themselves on the earth beside the soft glow of cook fires. Tonight, even little Franny had ceased screaming. Then again, the babe couldn’t very well scream while her tiny lips were fastened around Francine’s tit.
Palmer’s mate stood holding the baby to her breast, scouring the clearing with her eyes. She stood outside a small shed Palmer had remodeled into a little cabin after claiming her.
As Jordan approached, her two younger sisters emerged from the cabin, each carrying small stacks of bowls. Camilla regarded her with two large, wide-set eyes that always looked wide open. Her stringy brown hair was parted down the middle and fell over her shoulders as she leaned to set down the bowls.
“Father and Emmy aren’t with you?” she asked.
“Nope.”
Sydney made a pouty face. “We’re going to miss the claiming ceremony.”
“I can’t believe the pack is celebrating the claiming between a pureblood and a half-breed. If I were you, I wouldn’t go at all,” Francine snapped, her jerky movement briefly causing her tit to pop out of the baby’s mouth. Thankfully, Franny latched right back on before she could start screaming again. Meanwhile, Francine glared down at Trish. “I told you to stir the pot.”
Trish blinked a couple times as though awakening from a daze then looked around, presumably for a spoon.
“Oh, never mind. Here come Palmer and Emerson, so we might as well dish up.”
Relief flooded Jordan as her oldest sister entered the clearing. The light was fading fast. Emerson and Palmer were all but silhouetted in shadows as they strolled past other campfires before reaching theirs.
“What a beautiful evening,” Emerson called out cheerfully. The firelight glinted off her long blond hair. The rest of the sisters were brunettes, even Palmer’s mates.
Their mother had told them that Emmy was born under a bright sun, midday. It was as though she’d captured its rays in her mane of shining hair.
Sydney always went suddenly shy around her oldest sister. Camilla, on the other hand, looked Emerson up and down suspiciously, squinting in the darkness as though searching for flaws.
“It’s about time the two of you showed up. We’re all starving,” Francine said.
Francine issued her biting remarks with such frequency that no one bothered commenting. Jordan and her sisters sat on the ground close to the fire, while Palmer planted a kiss on Franny’s head. When he tried to do the same with Francine, she scowled and leaned away.
“Well? Did one of you find a spoon?” she asked, looking from Camilla to Sydney.
“I’ll get it.” Jordan leapt to her feet and rushed into the cabin. The sooner they ate, the sooner she could be on her way.
“I don’t know about everyone else, but I’m starving,” Emerson said, helping dish up bowls of stew to pass around.
Jordan didn’t chew so much as inhale her meal. She’d always been a fast eater.
Palmer chewed with his mouth open. He swallowed and smiled across the fire. “I’d say your first council meeting went well, Emmy.”
“Yes, Raider and I really see eye to eye,” Emerson said, wiggling her brows.
Camilla set her bowl on the ground. “Now I’ve lost my appetite.”
“Hearing Raider’s name makes you lose your appetite?” Emerson teased, eyes glinting in the firelight. “I don’t understand why. Just thinking about him makes me feel ravenous.” As though to demonstrate, Emerson tilted her bowl over her lips and wolfed down several bites of stew.
Sydney stared at Emerson’s throat as though mesmerized. She was the one sister Jordan had trouble getting a read on. Camilla, on the other hand, broadcast her feelings whether anyone wanted to hear them or not.
Crossing her arms over her chest, Camilla glared at Emerson. “You know it’s not Raider who turns my stomach but the thought of you moving in on my mate.”
“Your mate?” Emerson challenged, sitting up. “I don’t remember hearing about a claim.”
Camilla sat up, too. “He hasn’t claimed me yet, but I’m sure he’ll have reason to after we perform the claiming dance during tonight’s ceremony.”
“Just remember, a humping i
sn’t a claiming,” Emerson said sweetly.
Camilla scowled.
The family dinner ended shortly afterwards. As darkness washed over the den, Camilla began to panic that she’d be late for the dance. She peeled her snug sundress over her head and threw it down. “No time to walk,” she hissed before getting onto the ground and shifting. She took off at a run.
Sydney jogged after her on two feet.
When Emerson began collecting bowls, Palmer shooed her away, waving his hands toward the clearing. “You two go join the ceremony.”
Emerson set the bowls down and kissed Palmer on the cheek. “Night, Father.”
He beamed. “You did great on the council today.”
Jordan strode across the clearing, welcoming the darkness that swallowed her. Emerson quickly caught up, the whites of her teeth glowing when she smiled in the dark. “Wait up, sis. Don’t tell me you’re rushing off to ogle Raider in his loincloth.”
Jordan scowled. “You know I’m not.” And now, thanks to her sister’s suggestion, she had a mental image of Raider in his skimpy costume, gyrating around the bonfire.
Emerson laughed as though sharing in the image.
“You’re not worried about Camilla shaking her ass all over him tonight?” Jordan asked, ready to switch the topic away from herself. Raider had enough admirers, and she refused to fawn over him with the rest of the single she-wolves.
“Even if she bends over, I’m in a much better position than Camilla. Figuratively,” she added with a chuckle. “Have you ever paid close attention to Raider perform?”
Jordan wrinkled her nose. “Why would I do that?”
“Because it’s quite insightful,” Emerson said, matching Jordan’s swift strides down the darkened path. “The poor man looks pained. He managed to get out of performing in the last ceremony with some feeble excuse about falling asleep.” Emerson looked skyward and snorted. “More likely, he wanted to avoid dancing with that nasty shifter from Glenn Meadows. One can hardly blame him. Anyway, he hates performing. It’s not the best way to get on his good side, whereas he shows great interest in council proceedings… And I,” Emerson said proudly, placing a hand on her chest, “am now a member of council.”
“Congratulations,” Jordan muttered, her thoughts turning to her friends. She’d had her fill of family time for the evening. Hudson and Chase had better have saved her brew before the liquid escape disappeared entirely.
“Who says I’m interested?” Emerson asked with one of her secretive smiles. “He’s not really my type, but I know you once found him attractive.”
Jordan groaned inwardly, cursing Emerson’s sharp memory, which was stronger than Jager’s brew.
Years ago, Jordan had compiled a verbal list of the hollow’s sexiest shifters, debating the top three males. Based purely on physique, Jordan had argued in favor of Raider, Wolfrik, and Aden. Jordan pulled at her earlobe. “That was a long time ago.”
A sultry smile appeared over Emerson’s lips. “I don’t understand why you are so defensive. We all have our types. You’re not the first female to lust after a large, muscular male.”
That was the problem. Jordan didn’t want to be just another silly she-wolf tripping all over herself for a male built like a mountain and hung like a log. This time her groan was audible. “Looks aren’t everything—wits are just as important.”
“Oh, I agree.” Emerson nodded her head enthusiastically. “Which is why it’s a good thing you and Raider will have a chance to get to know one another better during the next patrol cycle.”
Jordan stopped in her tracks, sliding a look over at her sister. “What do you mean?” she asked suspiciously.
“Whoops, I wasn’t supposed to know that.” Emerson covered her mouth with her hands and tittered, which didn’t make the slip sound like an accident at all. “When I arrived early for the council meeting, I overheard Father arranging to have you paired up with Raider.”
Jordan’s eyes burned in their sockets. “He did what?” she demanded.
Emerson flipped her hair back. “You know Father and Garrick want Raider to claim one of us. Father thought it would be quicker if Raider spent more time with each of us. I guess that leaves out Sydney, but she’s too young anyway, not that it will stop her from trying.” Emerson laughed. “Let the games begin.”
The blood in Jordan’s veins pumped up her neck and steamed from her ears. “I have no interest in spending time with Raider and even less in playing games.”
Emerson smiled dismissively. “Oh, sister, you’re in the game whether you wish it or not. We all are. Might as well make some sport out of it.”
“Count me out,” Jordan said, thundering forward.
Although night had fallen, an even darker cloud hovered above Jordan’s head. She could feel her mind smoking.
How dare her pig of a father go pushing her at Raider? He might easily think she’d requested him as her partner and that she was playing the game, as Emerson called it. With so many females drooling at his heels, he probably thought she wanted him just as badly.
Hopefully, he’d gotten the hint at the lake earlier. Then again, he seemed like the type of male who needed things spelled out in stones. For all she knew, he might believe he intimidated her with his strapping physique and all the hard, toned muscles covering his body.
She stormed the remainder of the way to the glade, head jerking from side to side as she searched for Hudson and Chase. As she neared the flaming bonfire, its heat further scorched her already-burning skin.
“Squirrel on a stick?” a shifter named Janelle asked, popping out in front of Jordan. Her dirty-blond hair had been braided into one long tail that hung down her back. She held a fistful of twigs with sharpened points, a chunk of roasted squirrel meat on the end of each.
Before Jordan could answer, Janelle handed her a stick then turned to Emerson, who had caught up.
“Squirrel on a stick?”
“How about rabbit?” Emerson teased.
Janelle frowned. “Check with Amber.” She moved on to a group of males, sounding more cheerful as she asked, “Squirrel on a stick?”
Across the glade, Amber handed out meat sticks, as well, with her hair secured in one long braid like Janelle’s.
“Want this?” Jordan asked, holding up the squirrel kabob. “I know it’s not rabbit, but I’m not really hungry now.” Not with acid eating away at her stomach lining.
Emerson took it and shrugged. “No use letting good meat go to waste.”
As Jordan walked away, Emerson called out, “Hey, try to have fun, sis.”
“That’s what moonshine is for,” Jordan returned.
Drumbeats reverberated through her chest, matching the tempo of her heartbeat. The dance had begun. Five female shifters swayed in short deerskin skirts around the fire. They wore wolf masks covered with rabbit fur over their faces and their hair in tight braids secured around the back of their heads. Soon, five males would join them and enact the claiming ritual. This wasn’t very different from the mating ritual performed the night before full moons to bring luck to mated males attempting to impregnate their females at the true full moon.
Tabor and Sasha sat together straight-backed on a log near the fire with stoic expressions etched across their faces in the firelight. They looked like they would have preferred a private claiming, and Jordan couldn’t blame them. The whole spectacle had to feel especially uncomfortable with Tabor’s newly discovered half sister, Elsie, sitting on the next log beside Kallie watching with rapt attention. She looked to be about seventeen years old, but Jordan had heard that she was three years younger than Tabor, which would make her closer to twenty. The petite wisp of a she-wolf-witch had grown up inside the gates of Balmar Heights among wizards who had secured a gated community of luxury villas built of sturdy stone and hardy materials that held up better than the paper houses in the abandoned
suburbs.
Jordan’s mother had passed by Balmar Heights long ago and described the majestic manors with their gabled entryways, bay windows, stone walls, and courtyards to Jordan and her sisters somewhat wistfully. She said just one of these homes would take up the entire den, and liked to ponder the lives of the late occupants. Coreen had loved to read—a habit none of her daughters inherited—but as a young girl, Jordan always enjoyed hearing her mother read aloud pages of the books and summarize the stories she so cherished. She had especially enjoyed describing society as it once was.
Complicated, Jordan thought. Despite the hardships and frustrations of community living, she valued a life free of the financial burdens that had ruled her grandparents’ generation. Most of all, she couldn’t imagine hiding her animal side as she went about her day living among humans—trapped in the concrete jungle behind her own skin.
Human howls signaling the arrival of the male dancers rose from the surrounding trees. The dancing females swooned as their partners ran into the clearing to join them. Despite the mask, Raider was the easiest to pick out. A towering figure of bulging muscles, he dwarfed the other males.
There was a slight scuffle when he took up the dance behind a female shifter with auburn hair. She was quickly pushed aside by Camilla. If only Raider would claim her sister so they could all be done with the whole infuriating affair. Jordan doubted it would be that easy. Raider had never expressed interest in claiming a mate.
Her spirits rose when she caught sight of Chase and Hudson seated side by side on a log slightly secluded from the rest of the shifters who had gathered for the spectacle. Noticing Jordan, Chase grinned and lifted his hand in the air. It flopped back down as though made of reed. He and Hudson were giggling when she walked up.
On the end of their log, a teen shifter named David sat hunched over with a glassy gaze floating over his russet eyes. Scruffy brown hair hung over his forehead and curled at the ends.
“I think I’m going to be sick.” The young shifter groaned.
Mating Games Page 3