“He’s late,” Escher growled. “How long are we supposed to wait?”
“As long as necessary,” one of the betas, I thought his name was Jakus, bit out. “The alpha’s time is more valuable than yours.”
When he narrowed his eyes, I thought Escher would argue, but instead, he stood and stalked toward the window then stared out in silence. I hated anything that made him retreat inside himself. We’d tried so hard to get him out of his head and into the world, but he would have to take orders from those higher in the pack hierarchy, especially during wartime. So I didn’t say anything. Escher’s skills were valuable, and I wondered if Jakus could begin to approach his fighting ability. Time would tell.
“Let’s get started.” The alpha strode in, followed by an older female named Armine. I hadn’t spent much time with her, but she was the alpha’s housekeeper, among other things. Why was she here? To sweep the floor?
Everyone stiffened, the low conversations ceased, and Escher spun from the window to face the wolf who held the pack in the palm of his hand. So to speak. I’d heard little against him in the time I’d been associating with them all, but Escher didn’t have an easy time accepting orders from anyone.
“Please be seated,” Samson said, settling into his high-backed black leather desk chair. “I have a FaceTime with the council in twenty minutes, and I need to be able to tell them what we are doing here.”
The council… I hadn’t thought of them in terms of what was going on here. Shouldn’t they be able to stop this madness before someone got hurt or killed? But as the meeting got under way, I was shocked nobody else asked. I listened for a few minutes, the question growing larger in my mind.
“Escher will continue to be in charge of training—”
“Alpha,” I interrupted, knowing I shouldn’t but unable to stop myself, “can’t the council tell the Rattlecreeks to back off before this goes any further?”
If I’d been made of less stern stuff, I’d have withered under his stare. “No. The council has no jurisdiction in a declaration of war. It is up to the individual packs to settle their disagreements.”
He seemed ready to continue his previous conversation, but I was too angry to stop. “Wait. They will interfere in personal matters, like where I live and who I mate? But not who gets to fight with whom? I’ve never heard such sexist nonsense in my life.” I jumped to my feet, shrugging Moss’s quelling hand from my arm. “So I can’t fight, and I get it…I need to stay alive to take care of any injured or ill. But Christie can’t fight either? Why Do the females have no say whatsoever in their lives? I’m thinking maybe we need to form our own pack, where we can have control of our destiny.”
Samson stalked over, and it took every bit of fiber I had to remain standing, but he wasn’t looking at me at all. He stared down at my friend, fire blazing in his eyes, tension vibrating his limbs. “You want to fight with the males? I thought we resolved that last night.”
I allowed Moss to tug me down to sit again, which gave me an even better view of our angry alpha. What had I done? Christie had been sparring out there the night before. The alpha had seen it as well.
And she was on her feet then, head tipped back to meet his eyes with her own. “Damn right I do. I’m good, better than most of your warriors. What’s the matter? Afraid I could beat you in a fair fight?”
The strain in the alpha’s growled reply made me afraid his vocal chords might snap. “Don’t tempt me, Christie. I’ve never laid a hand on a female in anger or violence yet. I won’t start with you. Females are not allowed to fight. It’s tradition.”
“And who’s going to stop me?” she taunted. “The council? You? The sandwich making union? I have the ability to hold my own against those poor excuses for wolves. You know it. I know it.” She waved around the room. “All of them know it, too.”
“Leave. We will discuss this privately.” The alpha took a step back and reached for her arm, but she ducked past him. “I will not violate tradition,” he muttered, almost as if he didn’t expect us to hear it.
“I’m leaving. But this is not over, Samson.” She sailed out of the room with such aplomb, it was a full minute before even the alpha could pull himself together enough to continue the meeting. I excused myself as soon as the topic turned to Armina, who, it turned out, would be quartermaster in charge of supplies during the war. This was looking very real.
Chapter Fifteen
“She’s not going to be happy about this.” Brandon looked ahead toward Mirella’s house. My stomach turned, agreeing with his assessment.
“She’ll have to get over it. I mean, I’m not the happiest about impending war, but it’s at our back door. I think she will see the logic.”
Brandon snorted but, as I shot him the best stink eye I could muster, cleared his throat and straightened his face so he was serious again. It wouldn’t last long, for sure.
“Okay, you might be right.” I linked my arm through his.
He pulled me in and wrapped his arm around my waist. “You wanna have dinner with me tonight?”
“Smooth change of subject. But yes, I’d love to.”
He gifted me with a smile that lit up the already sunny day. We got to Mirella’s house, and she flung the door open before we could step up to it. “Good morning, Wendi, Brandon. To what do I owe this visit?”
I swallowed against my instinct to say something snarky. We needed Mirella calm and collected as we were about to explain to her what we wanted—what I wanted.
She wouldn’t go down without a fight.
And I expected nothing less.
“We came to talk to you about some things,” I replied, after accepting her warm embrace. She patted Brandon’s face and told us to sit down. Her home was filled with the aromas of chicken and something lemony and sweet. “What are you cooking? It smells divine?”
After sitting, she straightened her skirts. “Chicken stew. It’s good for the soul.”
Brandon sat next to me. “I thought that was chicken soup.”
She targeted him with a glare. “Chicken soup is for sickness. Chicken stew is for comfort. There’s a difference. I’ll show you how to make it one day, Wendi. And I made lemon bars this morning.”
“Sounds good. Um, we came to discuss something with you.”
Her entire body bowed up, stiffened like she was bracing for impact. “You mean you came over here to tell me to do something and are disguising it as a discussion. Go ahead. Tell the old woman what you are wanting her to do.”
Brandon’s eyes widened. Deep down, I thought he was a little afraid of Mirella. But I knew she was all bark and no bite. For the most part. I wasn’t going to try and test that theory out any time soon.
“You know Rattlecreek has declared war on us. We are assuming it will come any day now.”
Mirella twirled the end of her salt-and-pepper braid over her finger. “I’m aware of those leeches and their declarations. What of it, child?”
I exhaled slowly, counting to five. My words had to be right, but I was sure they would come out all wrong. “Well, I will be helping with healing while the others fight. I was hoping for some company. Maybe you could stay with me at the house while the battle is going on? And since we don’t know when that will be, maybe starting tonight?”
As I spoke, her shoulders tensed while she grasped the arms of the chair tighter by the second.
Totally screwed—I was totally screwed. Why did I think I could pull one over on her?
“Wanna try again, but with less tact and more straightforwardness?” Her tone was curt, and I’d lost, not even a good ways out of the gate.
I leaned forward and shrugged. “Mirella, Gram, I am concerned about your safety. This war is over me, or at least started by me. They will do anything they can to get to me, even if it means hurting my mates or the people I love. You’re the last of my blood family. I would like you to come live with us until this is all over. For your protection. For my sanity.”
She pushed back,
deepening her position in the chair. “I am perfectly able to defend myself.”
Here we go.
“I know. Like I said, this is more for my peace of mind than anything else.”
She smiled, and, for a fraction of a second, I thought I’d won. So dumb of me. “Liar. This is because you think I’m weak now.”
Brandon snorted, and so did I. “No one in a three-hundred mile radius thinks you’re weak. Please.”
She picked at her skirts. “I’m fine in my home. If something happens, I will call you.”
A knock at the door interrupted our standoff. “Come in, Samson, stop eavesdropping at my door.”
The alpha came in, his head down, wearing a sheepish look I hadn’t seen before. “Mirella, we would all like you to be safe. Go live with your great-granddaughter until this is all over.”
“Poppycock. I’m safe right here.”
Samson righted himself and squared off his shoulders. “Mirella, as your alpha…”
That did it. I might not have said the right words, but his were way off. “Oh, as my alpha? Is that right? You insolent little twit. I changed your diapers once upon a time. Your grandfather and I were best friends. Don’t you alpha me.”
Samson had about a foot on her in height, but she didn’t care. Her devious glare, coming from someone of her small stature, tangled him up, and he paled. “Mirella, it’s just…”
“Oh, I know, I know, for my safety. I won’t say this again, so listen carefully. I can take care of myself. Now, all of you men out of my house; you’re making it seem small. Wendi, you can stay.”
Without another word, Brandon and Samson filed out, but I knew they were staying near the front door.
“Don’t you let them bully you—or Christie, either. This is her pack just as much as it is theirs. She deserves the chance to fight for those she loves like anyone else. You tell her I said so. Girl power and burning bras and all of that.”
I hugged her tightly, knowing I’d lost. I would accept my fate and hers gracefully, or try to. “Call me if you need me. And of course I will tell her. Thank you, Gram.”
She scoffed. “For what?”
“For always teaching me, no matter what. For being the best great-grandma I never had.”
She swatted me on the butt and then swiped her face. “Don’t you dare tell them I cried. Now, get back to those mates of yours.”
Chapter Sixteen
Brandon stopped by after fighting practice a couple of days after our visit with Mirella. Glistening with sweat, he also bore a prominent bruise on his cheekbone. I had spent the afternoon and early evening doing what I’d bemoaned I’d have to…well, not exactly. Rolling bandages was not a thing in the twenty-first century so far as I knew, but gathering first aid supplies sure was. Via the Internet. I’d already had a half dozen large cartons delivered, and more on the way. Although most of the healing I would be called upon to do was via my gift, badly injured shifters might need bandages and salves, a place to rest where I could keep an eye on them and—the alpha’s credit card, which he’d so generously put at my disposal was going to squeal at this one—a hot tub for sore muscles.
Essentially, I was building a clinic. It would be useful for not only this “war,” but for everyday life. Regular doctors weren’t equipped to deal with shifter, especially since most probably had no idea we existed. If I was going to be the pack healer, I was damn well going to do it right.
Since I was currently living in Moss’s home, and since it would be our former home once my mates were free again to finish it, the question of what we would do with the house in the future had been answered. With Moss’s agreement, I was planning to make it my office and a facility where we could house a shifter or a few under my care.
Brandon’s bruises brought it home. My mate was showing the effects of practice. When it came down to real war, to real battles, my four men would be fighting against the Rattlecreeks with their steel weapons, claws and teeth, and sneaky tricks. They’d told me guns were not allowed, and the council would enforce that, but I didn’t think it would stop them. Sneaky tricks could include hiding bodies or just about anything else.
Another issue was the use of silver in bullets or blades. Also not allowed in the rules of warfare. I wished I could believe that meant they wouldn’t use them. After spending the day working on setting up my clinic and trying to figure out how to get Mirella to come here and work with me or at least advise me and finding no solutions, my brain was sizzling and popping.
“Want to go for a walk?” Brandon held out a hand, and I slipped mine into his. “Or a ride?”
“On the bike?” Suddenly, I found a little energy.
“It’s parked right outside.”
He had to be as tired as me, probably more because nobody had been pounding on me all evening. A pang of guilt stung me. “Brandon, that’s so sweet of you, but I know you’re wiped out. We can just sit on the porch and sip lemonade for a while.”
Any exhaustion his slumped shoulders might have indicated was gone in a flash. “Wendi! Do I look like the kind of guy who wants to sip lemonade on the porch? Is that any kind of date for my best girl?”
Nah. He didn’t look like that kind of guy at all. Still… “No, but you’ve had a fifteen or sixteen hour day already, and anyone might be ready to relax.”
“I brought the bike over so we could go out. There’s nothing more relaxing to me than the wind blowing past me and your arms around my waist.” He leaned in and lowered his voice, even though we were all alone. “And your body pressed against me, reminding me of what it’s like when we are naked and wrapped around each other.”
I shivered, reminded as well. “Okay…I’m up for a ride as long as it’s not too much trouble…”
He arched a brow and shook his head. “You’ll need closed shoes.”
I ran for my sneakers. One day, I’d get boots, but it would require more shopping time than I’d had in a while. When I came back outside, he was holding my helmet and took a long moment to kiss me before slipping it over my head and fastening the strap under my chin.
“You’re so cute behind that shield.” Then he turned me around and gave a swat to my bottom that sent me up on my toes. “Let’s ride!”
We spent an hour or so cruising up and down the highway, stopping once at the little stand outside of town for an ice cream cone, and eating them on their porch which I guess was cooler than lemonade at home. I didn’t care where we were since the company was so good. Then we putt-putted home slowly, and Brandon put the kickstand down in front of Moss’s house.
He dismounted then removed his helmet and my mine, holding my gaze with an intensity that made me squirm.
I swallowed hard. “Want to stick around?”
“Not for lemonade.” His smile this time was slow and sexy, his bruise only adding to his appeal. He looked like a hero come to claim his reward. “Unless you had something else in mind.”
“I do.” Rising on tiptoe, I brushed my lips over his. “Want to sleep over?”
With a whoop, he scooped me up and started for the steps. “Like I’d ever say no to that.” He carried me up the steps and through the foyer, across the living room and up the stairs, but when he paused by my door, I shook my head. “Shower first. I hate to admit it because, even after hours of practice your sex-appeal is unmatched, but…”
He pivoted and moved down one door to the bathroom. “But I stink.”
“And you’re all scuffed up, at least your face is.” I giggled, clinging to his neck as he placed me on my feet. “You do. But you know what that means?”
“You are repulsed by me?”
I took a step back, reaching behind me to turn on the shower. “No, never. It means I get to wash every inch of you and check for additional injuries.” I stripped off my clothes and tested the water. “It’s my job.”
He was naked in less than five seconds and followed me into the large stall with its wonderful multiple showerheads. And I did my job, soaping
up a sponge with the citrus-scented shower gel I’d recently ordered online and rubbing it over the promised every inch of his amazing body, appreciating it all over again. I found some other bruises and one already almost-healed gash on his biceps, but I forgot I was the healer when my mate lifted me and filled me with his cock while I wrapped my arms and legs around him and held on. We’d had no foreplay, but somehow, it didn’t seem necessary. Or maybe the washing counted. I didn’t have enough experience to know.
I did know that when he gritted out, “Come!” I did, my insides clenching around his cock while he filled me with hot spurts of his cum. And it was lucky one of us had enough strength left afterward to stand because I was a limp girly, glad to be dried off and tucked into bed next to Brandon.
As I drifted off, I thought of Moss in the next room…the only one of my mates I’d not yet made love with. And I didn’t know why. He was every bit as sexy, and my body reacted to his like the others. At least!
We’d slept in the same bed a number of times, kissing and cuddling, but he’d…he’d never actually tried to take it all the way. Why? Didn’t he want me after all? Or wasn’t I giving him the right signals?
“Wendi, settle down,” Brandon groaned. “You keep thrashing and we won’t get any sleep.”
He was right. I snuggled close and laid my cheek on my mate’s chest. Tomorrow was soon enough for any more thinking.
Chapter Seventeen
I heard Christie before I saw her. She was yelling in the backyard about something, and I dragged myself from the bed to see what was happening.
As I looked down, I saw Escher and my other mates with their hands on their hips and the alpha in between them and Christie.
Sooner or later, the showdown about her fighting would happen. Might be now. Quickly, I dressed in some yoga pants and a tank top. My best friend wouldn’t be fighting this battle alone. I intended to back her up fully.
Dominion: A Shifter of Consequence Tale (Shifters of Consequence Book 4) Page 6