I’d never heard her say anything like that before. My intrepid friend, who feared nothing we’d encountered so far, was afraid.
“It will be okay, Christie.” I didn’t know if it was true at all, but I couldn’t stand seeing her so pale. “The alpha seems as if he knows what to do. We’ll support the pack any way he asks, work together as a team. The Rattlecreeks are all half-starved and not nearly in as good a shape as the Midnight Alders. Have you seen any of their wolves?”
She gave a little shrug. “Yes. But not recently, at least not that I’m sure of.”
Odd…but I was in reassurance mode and would follow up later. Right now, I needed to remind Christie of all the good things so she’d stop grinding her teeth before she broke one. “Well, I saw a bunch of them when they kidnapped me, and Escher dispatched eight of them by himself. I’m not sure how many there are in the whole pack, but no way they have anywhere near eight times as many as we do. We can take them and settle this once and for all.”
“I hope so.”
I plopped down beside her and unwove her fingers. They were going to be sore as tight as they were. “I know so. We have great leadership and everyone here is strong. They get enough to eat and enough sleep, and look at all the conditioning runs we go on.” That was what they were, right? Conditioning runs? I’d thought of them more as fun runs, but we always went on for long enough we stretched our abilities. And as I considered so many of the activities Samson arranged for our enjoyment, I could see the benefit. “We have to follow instructions so we’re acting as a team. How much longer could we have gone on with them picking away at the edges of our land and all the other nonsense they’ve been getting up to.”
Christie pushed back to sit more comfortably on the sofa. “I’ve heard of some pilfering of supplies recently. Think it was them?”
“I didn’t hear that, but I bet it was. I’m glad we didn’t have to do the declaration, but I think, eventually, we’d have had to.” I slumped to sit close beside her and linked our hands. “And we’re not going to be little women at home, either. We’re wolves, too, and we can do our part!”
I’d finally hit the right note. She tensed and turned to face me. “Can we? It’s not traditional, you know. Women usually handle the home front in pack wars.” Her fierce expression made me smile.
“Yep, I didn’t regain my abilities to roll bandages. Except…” Oh shit.
“Except you are the healer. And nobody is going to let you go out and fight.” She gave me a hug. “I, on the other hand, have no specific purpose and a lot of unused rage. I think I’ve found my happy place.”
I wouldn’t call fighting a war a happy place, but when I left her outside my door a while later, giving her my room while I went to sleep with Moss, my bestie was changed. A fierce warrior did indeed lie inside her. Would the males allow her to exercise those passions?
I didn’t think she’d let them do anything else.
When I was falling asleep at my mate’s side, tucked into his embrace, I realized we hadn’t talked about Tris or why she was so mad at Samson, the alpha. Oh well, tomorrow was another day. It wasn’t as if we’d be spending it filling little bags with wedding mints.
Any big wedding plans would have to be set aside for a while. For the good of the pack.
Chapter Twelve
Wedding and war. Those things woke me up the next morning with a kaleidoscope of butterflies in my stomach and a throbbing headache in my temples. I rolled out of bed and took a shower, hoping to wash away the worry, but it stayed there like a bruise, aching a little at all the wrong times. I trudged to the kitchen for coffee to help me focus on what I’d need to do today.
My mates were up early and had left the house to train right outside our backyard. I could hear their shouts and some alarming thumps and crashes. They were not alone—Samson, the alpha, had phoned late in the night, waking me while Moss left for the living room and had a conference call, including all of my mates, discussing arrangements for pack training beginning before sunrise. I appreciated their trying to let me rest, but I’d listened anyway, my anxiety rising with each word he’d said. Only hearing his side left some gaps in my understanding, gaps I’d filled in by interrogating him when he returned. I’d only fallen back asleep afterward because he’d kissed and cuddled me until I relaxed.
Escher was one of the best fighters we had, so he’d been employed to drill the rest in both offensive and defensive moves—or at least brush the pack up on their skills. When Samson broached the subject, Escher’s one condition had been he be able to train the pack near me—hence the backyard training area.
Christie hadn’t emerged from my bedroom yet, and we had a lot to talk about, but I used the time by standing by the window and watching my men in action. They all had their shirts off and sported loose-fitting shorts, their preference for convenience in shifting. Moss stripped first, shifting effortlessly into his wolf. He followed Escher’s commands, demonstrating moves and ways to defeat and defend for the rest of the pack. All the Midnight Alders were amazing, but my mates were perfection.
Cash’s muscles flexed and pulled under the light of the sun. Brandon’s perfect V stood out from his shorts. Escher’s leaner build made everything on him pull taut and caused me to me drool.
I leaned closer to the glass to take it all in, almost forgetting for a moment why they were engaging in this war play.
I was so enamored by the whole display I didn’t hear Christie come in until she shouted, “Earth to Wendi!” right behind me. making me jump and spill my coffee all over the window.
“You scared the shit out of me, Christie.”
She snorted, a got a hand towel from one of the kitchen drawers, and handed it to me. “Well, if you weren’t so engrossed in your own personal Magic Mike show, you would’ve heard me. I mean, what if I’d been one of those Rattlecreek assholes? Pay attention, woman!”
I wiped the window clean and tossed the towel into the washing machine. “I can’t help it. You would do the same if it was Tris out there, shirtless.”
Her face reddened, and I tried hide my smirk. Christie rarely blushed, so her reaction enhanced my impression she had it bad for her neighbor. But I still didn’t know what her issue was with the alpha.
“You’re right. But it’s pointless.” She shrugged.
“Want to work on wedding favors?”
“Sure. I mean I guess.” She sounded about as enthusiastic as I felt.
We both plopped on the couch. The tiny bags and mints were on the ottoman, but neither of us made a move to start the process.
“Tell me what’s going on with you. I mean, I did land four of the hottest guys around here. Maybe I could give you some advice on the subject.”
She shoved my shoulder. “Oh, you have to bring that up every chance you get.”
“Come on, you’re my best friend. Spill your guts, so I can tailor my advice to your specific situation.”
She froze then flopped back on the couch and groaned. “I am in trouble, Wendi.”
“How so?”
“I keep trying to flirt with Tris, and he flirts back, but then….nothing. He doesn’t ask me out. He doesn’t make a move to kiss me. He just goes home. And then there’s…”
“What? Is there someone else?”
She sat straight up and balled her fists. “I also might have a thing for the alpha.”
“What?” I yelled and felt my eye bug out of my head. “I thought you two were having some kind of fight.”
She shrugged, and I could tell this whole thing was having a greater impact on her life than I’d guessed. “I don’t know. I like them both, but one won’t make a move, and the other is so damned stubborn.”
“Maybe we could ask Brandon about it? I mean, he is their brother.”
She gasped and took my hand. “Swear to me that you will not, under any circumstances, ask him about my love life. If Samson got wind I was talking about this to anyone, he would throw a man-sized tantrum.”
I reached for the bags and mints, just for something to do with my hands. Poor Christie. Stuck between two men.
“Okay, I swear. But, I don’t know, why don’t you make the first move on Tris? I mean, you’re a strong woman who knows what she wants. Just kiss him.”
She laughed and took the bag of mints from me. “Don’t think I haven’t thought about it. Trust me. I have.”
“What’s holding you back?”
She sighed and handed me some mints. I put them in one of the bags and tied the strings into a bow. “Samson is stopping me from making a move on Tris, and Tris is stopping me from making a move on Samson. I’m a woman torn! And neither has any idea. Of course, I am fairly sure Samson still doesn’t know he’s here.”
Christie put the back of her hand on her forehead and dramatically sighed like some silent movie heroine.
“And you’re dramatic to boot,” I added, slapping the side of her leg.
“I wasn’t before. These men have turned me that way. But I decided something this morning,” she said, and I recognized the gleam in her eye. “I’m going to fight in this war no matter what they say. I am going to defend my pack and my people.”
“It’s dangerous,” I answered. “But I understand. I’m going to get them to teach me some defensive moves just in case. I need to be stronger with my wolf.”
She nodded. “Couldn’t hurt. I mean, clearly, we’ve underestimated this pack before. We won’t do that again.”
We high-fived, but inside, I was scared for my friend. Yeah, she was fierce and tough, but those Rattlecreek bastards were the worst of the worst.
Chapter Thirteen
Christie left me alone with my pile of bags and mints, the detritus of a wedding likely to be postponed. I’d picked them out with such pleasure before we’d moved up the wedding, when we still planned to have it after the house was finished. We’d been closing in on both events, but with war facing us, none of our personal matters were relevant. Ours or anyone else in the pack’s. The Rattlecreeks declaration took precedence.
I returned to the kitchen and prepared another cup of coffee, this one in a lidded travel mug in case anyone startled me again. Or in case my desire to join the others overwhelmed my good sense. As the healer, I would not be fighting. I understood. But it stung. I wanted to help my mates fight this battle. To help my pack. Not that I wouldn’t take care of anyone injured who needed me, but I didn’t want others to lay their lives on the line while I waited comfortably at home.
The men continued to spar, some in wolf form, others two-legged, which answered some of my questions about how it might work in battle. And raised others. It appeared it could be either way, but that offered me no comfort. Especially when I saw the elegant, massive swords Escher and Moss lifted before them. They approached one another, and steel clashed as they danced and thrust, using complex moves that had me squeezing my eyes closed lest I see blood flow. But every time I peeked, they were fine, and after about fifteen minutes, they stopped and drew others in, working with them on their form.
How would they manage to have words with them when they were in wolf form? Or were they anticipating the fighting would all take place right here, on our lands where they’d have access to weapons and anything else they needed? I’d have to ask one of them later, when they were no longer so occupied.
I’d nearly forgotten Christie when she appeared around the corner of the house and approached the fighters, stopping a dozen or so yards away. Where had she been for the last half hour? And where did the sword she held come from?
It was smaller than the ones the males wielded but looked sharp and every bit as deadly. She’d also changed clothes, and instead of the cute leggings and tee she’d worn when we were bagging mints, my bestie was in head-to-toe leather. Not easy to shift out of that, but I supposed she knew what she was doing because, the minute Escher dismissed the beta he’d been skirmishing with, she strode up to him and assumed what I supposed was a ready position.
She came up to his shoulder, the difference in their sizes almost comical, but the fire in her eyes held no amusement whatsoever. I couldn’t hear what they said, but Escher’s body language was telling. He shook his head, waving her away as if she couldn’t be serious in suggesting they fight. His reach would be so much greater than hers, and his weapon was also so much larger it would probably snap hers in two if they ever came together, but Christie did not back down. She continued to argue, waving the weapon in a way that looked quite dangerous. And Escher stepped back, sliding his sword into a scabbard he wore at his hip, obviously refusing to engage with her.
Christie stayed where she was for a long moment. She wanted to fight. Maybe she had the ability to do so. As much as I respected my mates and their desire to protect females, they weren’t giving her a chance. Clutching my travel mug, I took one last fortifying gulp and set it on the counter. I might not be able to fight, but damned if I wouldn’t defend my friend’s right to prove herself able.
I pushed open the kitchen door and trotted across the open space toward where the fighters had all stopped their skirmishing and formed a circle around Escher and Christie. They were muttering among themselves, but their smirks decided it for me. Damned if my friend was going to be denied the chance to at least try to defend her pack. And even if she proved unable, her bravery should be applauded rather than scoffed at.
I shoved at the shoulder of a pack member whose name I didn’t know. “Out of my way, wolf.”
He shifted aside before his eyes lit on me. “Healer, this is no place for you. You should go back inside where you’ll be safe.”
“I’ll let you know when I need advice.” I shrugged past him and moved toward where Escher and Christie stared at each other. Neither was going to back down anytime soon unless I intervened. “Escher, why won’t you let Christie train with the others?”
He lifted his gaze from her, jaw dropping at my words. “Mate, this has nothing to do with you.”
“It has everything to do with me. Our pack needs every able hand to do their part in wartime. I wish I could fight at your side, but I recognize, as the healer, it’s my job to remain behind to treat any wounds. If I got injured myself, who would take care of you or any of you”—I waved to the circle of men —“who might be in danger of losing your life?” The smirking dropped. Had they been out here jabbing and punching and barking at one another without recognizing the fact they could end up injured? Dead? “That’s right, in danger of death. So, every pack member must do what they can to help.”
Escher looked stunned. “Mate, don’t get into this. You know females cannot fight in wartime. She’s smaller and won’t have the strength or the endurance necessary to best the enemy.”
I snorted. “Have you seen the enemy? Unless they’ve been beefing up since I last ‘visited,’ they are poor examples of wolf kind. But that doesn’t matter. Maybe Christie can fight, maybe she can’t. I tend to believe she wouldn’t have a sword if she didn’t have any idea how to use it, and your outfit.” I scanned her head to toe. “Really a sick ensemble there, bestie.”
She preened a little, tossing the tight French braid that had probably taken most of the time I hadn’t seen her. “Like it? It’s great for two-legged fights.”
“And what if you need to shift?” Nobody was smirking, but the alpha’s tone held a big helping of disdain. “Could you do it or would you be worried about damaging your pretty outfit?”
The section of the circle opposite where I’d entered parted, and our alpha strode through. Christie spun to face him, her eyes flashing fire. “What do you think? Have I given you the impression I put my clothes before my pack?”
“And have I given you the impression females will be allowed to fight in this war? Why don’t you help the healer or maybe make sandwiches for the real warriors?”
Chapter Fourteen
Even if I wasn’t allowed to fight, as healer, I received a formal invitation to the council of war the next morning. How was that for some
thing I never thought I’d hear of? Growing up so isolated from any kind of pack life, I’d never expected the complex relationships different groups had. Especially these two who were so close together. Like neighbors who hate one another. Actually, that was pretty much what they were.
I looked around the room at those who’d been called to attend. Samson, the alpha, of course. His betas, who I didn’t know very well, as they always seemed to be busy doing something important.
All of my mates. Brandon, the alpha’s brother who had told me on our first meeting he hoped to achieve beta status one day. All of my mates were alphas, of course, just not pack alphas, which was a whole other thing. He sat on a straight-backed chair, feet flat on the floor, attentive and a little tense. If nothing else told me how serious things were, my quick-with-a-joke mate’s tension would do so.
Cash and Escher sat close together like the brothers they were in every way but birth. So different, but so bonded. Cash was hard-working and always ready to help out. When I watched the sparring the night before, I’d noticed him acting as lieutenant to Escher, accepting direction from my serious, intense mate in drilling the others.
Last, Moss. The more intellectual of the group. He sat next to me on the couch, ready to take notes with a tablet and stylus in his lap. But he’d held his own the night before, every bit as much of a warrior as he fought with a group in wolf form for the last hour or so of their practice.
Christie was here, as well. Sitting on my other side, the only woman present besides me. She’d tried hard to prove herself, and I believed she’d done well. Better than well, she’d taken out a few of the guys who underestimated her in hand-to-hand before shifting and presenting them with a wolf nobody wanted to take on.
Still, would the alpha allow her to fight for her pack? My mates had informed me tradition held males did the fighting. While I was ready to accept my role precluded physical fighting that might make it impossible for me to heal others, I would fight to the death for my friend’s right to exercise abilities she’d so clearly exhibited.
Dominion: A Shifter of Consequence Tale (Shifters of Consequence Book 4) Page 5