When I really think about what just happened, my guilt begins to wane. It’s not like I can control my own dreams—or wolf for that matter. I can’t be held accountable for my subconscious, can I?
Even with my rationalization, I feel awful and wait until Zane is finished with his shower to take mine. After a long, cold shower, I find Zane dressing in scrubs, his blond hair combed back. He peers at me as he ties his shoe, narrowing his eyelids over his pale blue eyes.
“You’ve remembered you’re mad at me, huh?”
“What? No, I’m just in a funk,” I say as I sink onto our bed. A few moments after saying this though, I remember what I’d been mad about last night, and a small spark of annoyance lights in my belly. “But I would appreciate you not calling my sister a slut ever again—even if you’re mad. Thanks.”
Zane rolls his eyes. “In what world isn’t your sister a slut?”
“This one. She has abysmal taste in guys—but I’m not going to judge her for sleeping around, and neither should you. Unmated male werewolves do it all the time, so why can’t she? Who knows how you and I would be acting if we weren’t in a serious relationship?” Anger is rising in my chest again, and as much as I don’t want to continue this fight, I just can’t let this one go. “It’s just a bad, judgey word.”
“You’re right.” Pressing a hand into the bed, Zane leans in and kisses me gently on my lips. “You’re always right—forever.”
I manage to force a smile and say what he expects me to. “Don’t forget that, and we’ll be just fine.”
My funk continues throughout the morning, so much so that as I walk past an open door in the complex on my way to the roof and someone calls out, “Good morning, Honeysuckle”, I just mutter, “Morning.”
Five steps past the open apartment, I halt and spin around to face Aaron Knight, who stands, leaning against a doorframe, grinning wide at me. “Wait…” I point to the open apartment and then to his face, “this is Marie’s apartment. I sent a refusal to your companies last night…what the…you don’t live here.”
“Sorry, Lance went over your head. Yes, we do live here,” he says with a wave and a wink as he ducks back through the open door.
“The hell you do.”
I stomp in after him, only to find myself in a lavishly furnished room in what I know was a musty, dark space with poorly kept furnishings from the sixteenth century just yesterday. The room has windows, something I never realized, and light floods in from all directions. Large paintings of the redwood forest span most of the walls. A brand spanking new sectional couch spreads across the sprawling living room.
Aaron plops down on it, grabbing a remote to turn on a wall-sized wide screen television. He flips through channels before settling on a dance talent contest series I’m minorly obsessed with.
“I was about to make lunch. You hungry?” he asks. When I just gape at him, he pats the couch. “Come sit.”
I point into Aaron’s face. “What did you do to Marie?”
Aaron smiles, showing some pretty sharp canines. “What do you think, honey? We offered her a shit-ton of money, and she moved out last night. Bacon?”
“What?” I blink at him.
His smile only spreads as he stands. “Do you like bacon? I can make you a BLT and tell you all about how my brother went around your authority.”
“Of course I like bacon!”
“You sound a little angry about that, honeysuckle,” he says with his dark brows rising.
“I am angry...” I trail off as Aaron turns from me, heading deeper into the sprawling apartment. When did Marie’s place get so big? “Wait a minute,” I call after him. “You can’t just move in here.”
He squints over his shoulder at me, as if confused. “We did just move in here.”
“But you’re alphas of other packs—you haven’t asked permission from my father to live here yet.” I gesture out wildly, hit a standing lamp, and fumble to grab it as it comes crashing to the ground. Righting the wrought iron—probably fifty-pound—lamp. I huff out, “What the hell are you guys playing at?”
Aaron turns on the flame of a beautiful new gas stovetop that has to be brand new because I can’t even imagine blood sucking Marie owning an oven. Slowly, he layers bacon onto a deep cast iron skillet and sets the pan onto the flames. Immediately, the smell of cooking meat fills my senses and makes my stomach clench with hunger. Did I eat this morning?
Damn it, no.
“So, according to Lance, the North American Lycanthropy Council doesn’t have any regulations as to real estate—rented or bought, in other alphas' territory. It just has laws against trespassing, which aren’t in effect in this one territory, as it’s smack dab in the middle of Heartland Forest.”
Aaron leaves the bacon to sizzle and scoots over to a cutting table with three plump tomatoes and a small pile of lettuce. Taking a large knife, he begins to slice through the biggest tomato.
“Heartland Forest?” I ask when he doesn’t seem to want to continue.
“That’s the legal term they use to encompass the forest from Mendocino to Oregon and Nevada. Mostly they’re describing the lush, redwood section, but as it connects to the evergreen mountainous areas, they all get lumped together. You see that redwood tree outside our window?” Aaron nods toward the huge picture window to one side of the kitchen.
Crossing over, I peer down at the familiar trunk of a towering redwood that blocks most of the view of the parking lot and forest beyond. “So?”
“So, the North American Lycanthropy Council’s zoning maps are pretty liberal with Heartland Forest’s land, probably because my brother, Jacob, was so greedy about getting his due. I’m pretty sure your father didn’t even attend the last time the council zoned the area. Lance did. I can show you the zoning maps—”
“Show them to me,” I challenge as I turn around.
Aaron shrugs, not looking the least bit disturbed by my tone. He moves over to his sink and washes his knife before setting it on a towel to dry. “Lance can bring them to you later today. He’s meeting with your father to discuss terms.”
“Terms of what?”
Aaron peers up at me, an apology in his red-brown eyes. “The terms of our takeover, Scarlet. You know that’s why we’re here, right?”
Chapter Ten
Scarlet
From deep within me, my wolf snaps her confines and comes roaring into my mind. With all my remaining willpower, I spin toward the window. Claws extend from my fingers, and I feel the burning ache of my teeth pulling forward.
“Scarlet?” Aaron calls from what sounds like miles away.
Desperately, I beg my wolf to pull back. What can we possibly do here? Murder Aaron Knight while he cooks us bacon? Everything in my human side screams no more murder while my wolf growls that she’ll kill as many as she has to rule.
At first, I swear she’s ready to take over my will and force me into the deed, but something in her pulls back. My face snaps back into a human's and fingers burn like fire as my claws slide home. Through all that, my wolf hasn’t retreated, and as I hear Aaron approach, I slam my eyes shut.
“Are you crying?” he asks.
Not even close, asshole. But I don’t say it out loud, terrified he’ll hear my wolf’s challenge. She’s not challenging him though, I realize. We’re hyperaware of his presence, but my wolf isn’t whatsoever considering murdering Aaron Knight again—she’s considering that we do something completely different with him. When an image of me, naked and straddling Aaron, head back in orgasm, shoots into my mind, I’m ready for it this time.
I push the image and my wolf down with a great thrust, into the deep depths where I keep her. Thank all the gods, no sweet smell of lust fills the kitchen, and I’m able to pull myself together enough to look up at Aaron Knight.
“Hey—” Aaron sets his strong hand on my shoulder. “Do you need to sit down?”
I consider throwing off his hand but instead just fix him with a challenging glare. “No.”
“What if my father’s wolf refuses to surrender?” I ask, but I already know my father will refuse. He can’t surrender the pack—he isn’t truly the alpha. Only my wolf can surrender, and she isn’t about to submit to anyone, ever. She’ll let us die first.
“Your father will,” Aaron says. He squeezes my shoulder once and then heads back to his bacon. “Once he understands we’re nothing like our brother, Jacob—he’ll surrender the Six Rivers. He’s a good man and a smart man. He’ll do what’s best for his pack.”
“What if he doesn’t?” I insist.
“Then two weeks from today, Lance challenges him. If Lance fails, Darrel will challenge, and then I will.” He shakes his head. “But it’s not going to come to that.”
No, it isn’t going to come to that.
I’ve let my father take the fall for me for years—that’s on me, but there’s no way in hell I’ll let him face this.
“You’ll have to go through me first.” My voice is barely a whisper, so I clear my throat and say it again. “You’ll have to go through me before you challenge my father.”
Aaron spins around so quickly, his hand hits the burner and bacon grease splashes up his side. “Shit! Shit!” he says as he pulls his grease-splattered T-shirt up, exposing abs so chiseled, they could actually be used for washing clothes. Red angry welts mar his skin, but they quickly lighten and heal. He peers at me, past a lock of dark hair that’s fallen into his eyes, his eyelids round and full of surprise.
“Just so we’re clear, in one week and six days, if you don’t leave and swear in blood that you'll never return, I will first challenge Lance for his pack, and if I beat him, Darrel for his, and then you. You’re alphas—it’s perfectly legal.”
“You’re going to do what, now?”
“You heard me, Aaron Knight. You might think because we’re bankrupt, we’re weak—but you'd be wrong about that.”
Walking over to him, I stop inches away from touching him. I take a steadying breath, inhaling his bacon and soapy scent. A sudden and very odd urge to lean forward and nip him explodes in my mind. Tamping down on my odd instinct, I reach past him and grab a slice of tomato—both to make a statement and because I’m hungry and don’t want to burn my fingers. Turning on my heel, I make it halfway out of the kitchen before Aaron calls out to me.
“You’re not going to have any bacon?”
“No,” I say with my mouth full, even though I want bacon more than anything in the world right now—except, I guess, ruining my exit.
“Yes, you are,” he says, sounding amused. “I’ll bring down a BLT for you when it’s done, and you’re welcome, you know, for the tomato slice.”
Ugh. Now I feel guilty for not thanking one of the assholes who's planning to upend my entire existence. “I’ll thank you when you’re leaving this place for good.”
“Only because you want to stare at my ass as I walk away without me catching you—just like I’m doing to you right now.”
I freeze to glance back at him and find he's fully staring at my butt. His gaze meets mine, and a slow smile spreads across his wicked lips. “If you want to work out some of these dominance issues early, I’m more than interested.”
Is he hitting on me? I’m sure the look on my face shows how stunned I am.
“You’re not taking me seriously,” I realize. “Do you think that my challenge doesn’t hold weight because you find my butt attractive?”
“No, both of my betas are women, and they’d tear out my throat if I didn’t take them as serious threats...but you feel that, right?” he asks, gesturing between us.
“Feel what?” I touch my chest, truly alarmed for the first time. What the hell is he talking about?
“Our wolves—us—we need to work out our dominance. There’s something here.” He waves between us again and raises his brows in challenge.
Swallowing the last bites of tomato, I raise both hands in the air and waggle my fingers. “No, no, no, Aaron Knight. You might know shit about me, but I know plenty about you and all your hashtags.”
“Hashtags?” He laughs through the word.
“Whatever. You and I can work out our dominance issues when I challenge you for alphahood in a week and six days, buddy.” I try to sound tough, but the whole thing comes out way more menacing in my head—especially the word 'buddy'. 'Buddy'? I shake my head to dislodge my thoughts and add, “Anyway, I have a boyfriends who would very much object to us working out our dominance in the way you mean.”
“A boyfriends?”
“I didn’t say that. A ‘boyfriend,’ one.” I hold up my finger to make sure to get the quantity across.
“Where’s the fun in that?”
“We’re fun,” I growl, sounding far from happy. How the hell am I losing this argument? What is this argument even about?
“How crispy do you like your bacon?” Aaron asks, further making me want to strangle him.
I don’t answer—because admitting I like my bacon extra crispy seems like defeat somehow, so I spin on my heel and march out of the Knight brothers’ apartment. When I’ve marched down the hallway and halfway down the staircase to the lower floor, I remember why I was up here in the first place. Huffing out a breath, I stomp past the open door to what is now the “Knight brother’s apartment” and over to the final stairway leading to the roof access.
Stepping out into the gray, gloomy morning, I glance over to three bikini-clad women stretching out on lawn chairs. The moment my tennis shoes crunch onto the gravel-covered roof, two of the women arch up and look over. Their slit pupils fix on me as colorful scales glimmer over their cheeks.
“Morning, ladies,” I say, probably not as warmly as I should. So, a second later I add, “Manage to catch any rays?”
“The sun was out for an instant,” moans the nearest sister as she rolls over to her back. She pulls her blue, shimmering hair out from under her head and situates it artfully around her head. “We’re probably going to fly over the hill to Blue Lake later.” While she talks, she picks up a smartphone with her foot, closes her eyes, and somehow manages to take a photo of herself with her other foot.
“That takes talent,” I mutter as I cross to the ledge that encircles the roof.
“Thanks,” says the one I’m pretty sure is Sara, but all three of the dragon shifter triplets look so similar to me, I can’t be sure. “So...” she says slowly, “Marie’s gone?”
“Yeah, but I’m sure she’ll still be back and out for blood if anyone pays later than the fifth.” Grabbing the ledge, I lean over to survey the side of the building. “What the...” I reach down and touch the string of lights someone strung around the building. “Have these always been here and I’m losing it, or did someone hang these up this morning?”
Sara is busy on her phone as I turn around, shuffling through filters over a very impressive photo of her looking blissful and demure. “I can’t speak to whether or not you’re losing it,” she says absently, “but some gruff looking biker dude came out and strung the lights. Clara thought maybe he was a thief and considered eating him, but as he was carrying strings of Christmas lights, I thought he might be your new assistant.” She sighs. “So, I asked—that’s how we found out about Marie.”
“Well, thanks for not eating him—that would have been a mess on this gravel,” I say, repressing a cringe of revulsion.
“That’s what Tara said—she didn’t want you to have to clean up. She’s really thankful about the window, by the way.” Yawning, Sara closes her eyes, and seconds later, little wisps of smoke rise from her nostrils as she snores softly. I crunch over the gravel back toward the roof access, darkly thinking about how if the dragon shifter sisters ate the Knight brothers, my pro
blems would be gone—just like that. The moment the thought crosses through my mind, though, I just feel sickened. No more hiding behind others. Never again.
I take the stairs two at a time, pausing to help Marshal, a seven-hundred-year-old bog goblin, into his apartment without him having to set down his two-handed axe. After a quick trip to the sink in the laundry room to scrub the scent of bog goblin off my hands, I finally make it down to my office and stumble into a winter wonderland.
Hundreds of snowflakes hang above my head—ones I’m sure weren’t in the box yesterday. Hanging central with fishing wire, Saint Nicholas drives a sleigh, pulled by sparkly reindeer. On the other side of the room, a pile of fake glossy presents sits under a small, decorated tree. Cotton snow gathers on all my window sills. I brush my fingers over the fluff, almost expecting it to be cold, and my fingers come away with glitter.
Wiping glitter on my pants as I cross over to my desk, I sigh and fall into the chair, only to find a folded piece of paper sitting on my desk. The first thing I notice when I snatch it up is fingerprints of glue and glitter all over the paper. Then I read the short message scrawled inside.
Scarlet,
I wasn’t part of the decision to go around you to your boss, but I support it now. I couldn’t sleep, though, so I decorated your office. I hope it’s okay. If you ever want answers about what’s going on, you can call me. I’ll tell you what I can.
Darrel
Below the message waits his phone number.
“Crap,” I whisper, really starting to feel guilty about wishing dragon shifters would eat Darrel Knight.
Chapter Eleven
Darrel
I sit on my plush new sectional, feet propped up on the dark wood coffee table. I lift a beer to my lips and take a sip of the frothy, cold brew. My other hand plays with my phone, lighting up the screen again, only to find no incoming phone calls or text messages. I probably would have noticed the screen light up anyway—at least, I hope I would see the incoming call. Shit. I hate technology.
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