by T. S. Joyce
Dean sat on the sprawling leather couch downstairs watching highlights from last night’s football game. He looked up as Grey hit the creaky stair. “What the hell man? You said to be over here early and then you wouldn’t let me in. And then when I break in, you’re Changed in your bedroom?”
Grey’s voice was raspy, like he hadn’t used it in a while. Changing back-to-back had taken it out of him. “You broke in?”
“Oh, yeah. You need a new door frame,” Dean said, waving at the front of the house nonchalantly. “I heard you struggling and I thought you were in trouble. You’re welcome.” For property damage? Okay.
Grey grunted as he dragged his sore body toward the front door. “You ready? I’ll tell you what happened on the way.”
In his truck, he told the alpha about the dream he had. It wouldn’t help to keep it bottled in. His mom had always said if he didn’t want a nightmare to come true, he had to say it out loud to someone, and then it never would.
“Aelred? Man, that’s just weird. You need to lay off the chili cheese fries before bedtime is what you need to do. What did you eat last night so I know what to stay away from?”
“Deer.”
“Cooked?”
“No, I Changed. Dammit, Dean, why the twenty questions?”
“Because this kind of pressure is a lot. You’re being challenged and you don’t even officially have a pack under you. And I know you. Wolf runs the show and I want to know if you’re okay. Not Wolf. I’m sure he is loving this. But you.”
“I have to Change every day right now,” he admitted softly. “I feel on edge all of the time.”
An old El Camino picked its way slowly up the gravel driveway toward them. Three witnesses sat comfortably in the back. He narrowed his eyes at the window and cursed softly.
“What?” Dean asked. He followed the direction of his gaze. “Again?”
“I’ve fought a challenger at least once every day this week. Sometimes more.” Grey pulled the truck to a stop. “Can you call the silversmith and ask him push the appointment back. We’re going to be a little later than we thought.”
Dean pulled out his phone and punched in the number while Grey hopped out of the cab.
A lanky man with tattoos stretching down one arm slid out of the El Camino. “My name is—”
“Yeah, I don’t care,” he growled. “Those your witnesses?”
The werewolf nodded and removed his shirt.
He waited impatiently as the other wolf Changed, and as soon as he was finished, he pushed his own. Good thing he was quick, because the other alpha fought dirty. He jumped him as soon as he started his Change. He wasn’t fast enough, though, and Grey yanked his front leg out from under him and wrapped his jaws around the back scruff of his neck. A bark of surrender echoed through the woods.
Dean clapped slowly from the open window. “Good show,” he said with a sarcastic arch to his eyebrow. “You thought you would fight Demon Wolf when you don’t even have enough dominance to hold a pack? Good decision.”
The wolf limped off with his tail between his leg and Grey pulled his shirt back over his head. He climbed in the truck and pulled the first aid kit from the back seat. Two butterfly bandages across a cut on his neck and he was good to go. Dean watched him in silence.
“What?”
“How many times?”
Grey sighed tiredly. “That’s the fifth.”
“Five times we didn’t know about? Why weren’t you calling for witnesses?”
“I have. Wade has been coming out during the day while the girls are out getting wedding stuff done.”
“Why Wade?” Dean sounded a little stung.
“Because you have to tell Rachel everything. You do! I don’t blame you. It’s part of the bond and all, but she’ll tell Morgan. And right now, I don’t think it’s good for her to be living in fear all of the time.”
“Hmmm.” He nodded. “Fair enough. Even if I tried not to tell Rachel, she could feel me withholding something. She’d pry it out of me. Morgan can handle this, you know.”
Grey pulled around the car full of somber wolves. “Look, it’s not like I enjoy keeping challenges from her, but when she comes home, she is glowing from all of the wedding planning, and every time I open my mouth to tell her, she just looks so damn happy. I haven’t seen her so happy since she was Turned. I can’t bring myself to take it away from her. Montana was rough on her. She was scared afterward, but now she is back to her old self. I can’t just throw more dominant challengers in her face every thirty minutes. I don’t want her living scared that someone will take her away again.”
Dean chuckled. “That she-wolf is going to eat you alive when she finds out. You’ve always trusted her to handle her own battles, or at least handle them with you. That’s why you two have worked. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”
“I’ll tell her when the time is right. Here, take a look at this and tell me what you think.”
He handed Dean a folded piece of paper. On it was the pack emblem he had chosen to brand onto Morgan and Marissa’s arm to bind them to him. He and Morgan had researched into the wee hours of the night to find the emblem used in the Silver Wolf Clan. Morgan had been so tired, she had almost missed the page in one of the oldest werewolf lore books. The brand was a circle with flowing lines inside, weaving in delicate arches but never ending. Continuation and rebirth. This was the brand of a pack of werewolves with the unique ability to reproduce.
All of them had been white with blue or purple eyes, and all wiped out for their growing numbers. The only time in history when humans and vampires had unknowingly teamed up for the same cause was to annihilate the Silver Wolves. Grey had poured over sketches to try to find the perfect brand for his pack. It was fitting that they would use the Silver Wolf Clan emblem because Morgan was the rebirth of the clan, long thought extinct. The Old Ones had removed the circle from pack brands shortly after the annihilation of the breeders, and this would be the first time in hundreds of years that the circle would be reintroduced to an emblem.
Dean studied it and nodded his head slowly. “It’s perfect, man.”
“So why do we have to cut them with a ceremonial knife? Why don’t you guys just get silver brands made up?”
“It’s tradition. This is the way it’s been done for centuries. Plus, you can get a thinner line with the silver knife. It looks better, and you can adjust the size for females. Smaller arms, smaller brands.”
“This guy who makes them…does he know what we are?”
“I’m sure he suspects something, but his family has been making the knives for generations. He knows better than to ask a lot of questions. It’ll cost you a pretty penny but his work is the best. You’ll use this knife on every new pack member you initiate for the rest of your life.” Dean grinned. “So don’t lose it.”
Chapter Seven
Where had the week gone? Morgan checked another item off her to-do list with a triumphant scribble. Despite being a microscopic wedding, a surprising amount of planning had to go into it. And for some reason, Grey was growing more exhausted every day.
Her wolf worried. In fact, she spent an inappropriate amount of time wondering if he was okay. He was Grey though, and a quiet sort of man. He wouldn’t talk until he was good and ready. She tapped the pencil on the table in rapid rhythm. What if it was something he wasn’t comfortable talking to her about?
No better time than the present, Mom always said.
“Grey?” she said as she opened the door to his bedroom.
He seemed startled and rushed to finish pulling the blue cotton shirt over his head. The gesture stung like the crack of a whip. He’d never been modest in front of her before. She sat on his bed and cocked her head to the side. “What have I done to make you mad?”
He looked off to his left, like the leg of the chair was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen.
“Is it the wedding? I don’t want to push you into this. If you aren’t ready to claim me, it’
s okay. We don’t have to do this tomorrow.” Each word felt hollow as it slipped from her lips.
His head snapped up and the gold in his eyes blazed. “Of course I’m ready to claim you. It can’t come soon enough.”
She stood and placed her palm on the side of his unshaven face. He leaned into it and closed his eyes. His breath was warm against her wrist as he sighed, and in one smooth motion, he took his shirt off.
She was delightfully surprised until she dropped her gaze to what he’d been hiding. Rows of cuts and butterfly bandages dotted his chest and back.
A slow rage brought a tingling to her skin. “Who did this to you?” she asked in a voice she barely recognized.
“Hey,” he said quietly. “I’m okay. I just didn’t want to worry you before our big day.”
“Who?” she asked louder.
He gritted his teeth and let off a soft growl. “Challengers have been coming by while you were out planning. It’s the way I preferred it. You shouldn’t have to watch every fight.”
She clenched her fists at her sides. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He opened his mouth but nothing came out. Shrugging, he admitted, “I don’t know.”
The wolf in her yearned to be near him. To console him. Her voice softened. “I do. You ridiculous, brave man. I know you have an instinct to protect me, but we have to do this as a team. Every step of the way has to be you and me, okay?”
He leaned his head back and let out a long breath. She brushed her fingers against a fresh cut on the tight, stretched muscle of his neck. “Come here.” She took his hand and led him to the bed. After she had retrieved the first aid kit from the bathroom, she straddled his lap and peeled the bandages gently off to clean them. “I thought you were getting cold feet.”
He snorted. “It’s the opposite of that. I can’t wait to claim you so we don’t have to deal with the challenges anymore. They give Wolf way too much control.”
“Hmm.” She smiled. “Morgan Crawford,” she tested. “Has a ring to it, don’t you think?”
His grin was downright predatory. He took the cotton swab gently from her fingers and tossed it on the bed. Sliding steady hands down her thighs, he took a long drag of the air near her neck. He gripped the back of her knees and pulled her more tightly against his lap. When he nipped the sensitive spot just below her ear, she melted into him with a groan.
“Say it again,” he whispered.
She tilted her head back as his kisses left a burning trail across her neck. “Morgan Crawford.”
A knock rapped loudly on the door. “Food’s on,” Dean called.
Relaxing in disappointment, she hung her head until it rested against his shoulder.
His voice held a mischievous smile. “We could always ditch the meal.”
“So your suggestion is to ditch our rehearsal dinner with our friends, who are sitting right outside our window, to bone?”
He nibbled her lip tenderly and she pushed away. “Mmm hmm.”
“I like where your head’s at,” she whispered, and then kissed him.
“I’m serious!” Dean called. “Food’s getting cold!”
“Pain in my ass,” Grey muttered.
“I heard that!” Dean called through the door. “Morgan, update, your mother is here. She’s charming the shit out of everyone. We are all trying to pretend to be human. So far, so good.”
Morgan snickered. “Hey, you should just stay shirtless to meet Mom for the first time.” She ran her palms down his defined chest. “She would probably like you even more like this.”
“Does that mean your mom a perv like you?” he teased.
“She’s even worse,” she clipped out, dragging him up by the hand.
As soon as he was dressed, they padded down the hallway, past rustic oil paintings of wilderness landscapes that hung on the walls. The smell of barbecue wafted through the house, bringing pangs of hunger to her middle. They entered the great room to the noise of easy conversation and dinnerware clinking. Dean hefted a huge pan of brisket into the kitchen while Rachel and Brent talked animatedly to her mother, Hannah, as they set up a buffet style line of side dishes.
“Mom!” she called. She ran over to her and gave her a big old hug, like they always did. “I’m so happy you’re here.”
Her green eyes, much like Morgan’s own, lit up her smile. The light from the rustic chandelier above illuminated a hundred hues of gray in her hair. “Oh yes. I got here a while ago and I’ve been getting to know your new friends. Delightful people, honey.”
Morgan bit her bottom lip. If only she knew she was talking to a bunch of werewolves, she would crap herself. Mom was more of a cat person.
Grey walked with a soft foot, but she had been listening for him. “Mom, I know y’all have talked on the phone, but I’m happy to finally introduce you to Grey. Grey…this is my mom.”
Mom turned wide eyes to his chest, and they got wider when she looked up to the full height of her future son-in-law. “Good lord, but they made you a big one.”
He laughed, chin tilted back until the cords of muscle in his throat stretched. His smile was relaxed and genuine when he lowered his gaze back to Mom. “Nice to finally meet you, Hannah. I got my height from my dad’s side, ma’am.”
“Oh, none of that ma’am crap. Hannah is fine, please.” She held out her hand daintily for him to shake in true southern belle fashion. He would realize soon enough Mom was a spitfire with a mouth to match. Morgan had come by those little character traits honestly.
True to form, Mom finagled her way into sitting right next to Grey on the front porch. She’d always been admittedly enamored with big men, and they talked easily about how Lana was settling in here. Mom didn’t even seem to mind the sunglasses he wore, though the evening light had waned. Strands of white lights lit up the coming night and tiki torches were posted at every corner, casting glowing shadows across everyone’s faces. The murmur of conversation battled the cicadas that sang their evening song.
Lana crawled into his lap, and he adjusted her onto his leg without losing a step in his conversation. Mom’s face went all tender, and Morgan swelled with pride. She got it. Mom had been through a lot with Marianna’s death, and seeing Lana settled with Morgan, and a steady man she obviously cared for was a big moment.
“I love that you have taken responsibility for your sister as well, Greyson,” she told him. Her words nearly hummed with approval as they spilled from her smiling lips.
Grey coughed and Morgan leaned forward. “Yes, Marissa is adjusting so well to the new house,” she clarified before he asked what sister?
Recovering, he ruffled Marissa’s hair. “She’s a pretty good kid most of the time.”
The kid he spoke of rolled her eyes and stabbed another slab of brisket into her pie hole. “Nineteen isn’t a kid.”
The change in Grey was immediate. He was smiling, laughing, and charming one moment, and the next, he looked dangerous with his focus trained on the road. Just that flick of his attention did something awful to her insides. Dread slammed into her as the others turned toward the driveway one by one. And now she heard it as well. A car engine. Morgan couldn’t look away from her mate’s unabridged focus. He looked battle-ready.
As the conversation stalled, Mom frowned and looked from face to face.
Dean threw Grey a loaded look. Morgan’s heart pounded as Grey slid his hand across her thigh. Time to move.
“Hannah,” Rachel said. “Have you had a tour of the entire house yet?”
She looked baffled but took the bait well enough. “N-no. I’ve only seen the kitchen and living area.”
“I think I need to take Lana in anyway. The mosquitoes are getting bad,” Morgan said, swatting at an imaginary bug. “They’re eating me alive.”
Brent, the Dallas pack’s most submissive wolf, plucked Lana skillfully out of Grey’s lap and said, “Come on, baby girl. Let’s go show grandma what you’ve been drawing.”
Grey nodded his thanks and set his g
aze back on the road.
When most had gone back inside, Morgan clenched and unclenched her hands to calm her panic. “This was supposed to be a good night. I just wanted to relax with everyone.” How idiotic that she had started to think it would go off without a hitch.
“It’ll be okay. After tomorrow, we won’t have to deal with these anymore.” He squeezed her hand as she stood.
“Come back to me in one piece,” she said, kissing him and squeezing his shoulder as she walked by him, headed for the front door.
Unable to help herself, she turned before she went inside. She had to see the wolf he would fight.
The man who stepped from the driver’s side of the silver sedan wasn’t anything like Rodrigo. His manner of speech wasn’t formal or polite as the first challenger’s had been. He was huge. Where many wolves were built lean, this man had layers of muscle packed on. An enforcer. His head was shaved, and he wore a tight button-down shirt that accentuated his mass. If he had dressed for intimidation, it worked on her. The lines on his face suggested he never smiled, or if he did, it was only a grimace. Her gaze swung from Grey to the bulldog by the car. Three of his pack flanked him, all smaller than their alpha, but all scarred-up and scary in their own right.
The challenger’s dark, bottomless eyes found her. “Silver Wolf—”
“Don’t. I really don’t care about anything you have to say. I am right where I want to be.”
To Grey, she mouthed I love you, before she stepped into the house. When the door snicked closed behind her, she pressed her back against it. The man’s angry, muttered words drifted to her but she didn’t care enough to decipher what he had said. She was too busy trying to keep herself from falling into a million pieces. Grey had to fight him?
“Honey, are you all right?” Mom asked. “You’re shaking.”
“I’m fine. I’m just nervous about everything going well tomorrow, that’s all. It’s been a long week, and I guess it’s catching up with me.”