Slip the Skin

by Shanley, Tera

  “Fine,” Graham said blandly. “You’ll be punished, too.”

  “Graham, please,” Linden whispered, tugging on his shirt.

  Arching his gaze to her, he simply said, “Don’t.” It wasn’t an overly powerful word, but when he said it, the reaction of every werewolf in the bar was instantaneous. Hunching as if he’d screamed the word into a bullhorn, Linden scooted away and turned her head, exposing her throat.

  Looking bored, Graham leveled Meredith with a gaze that rattled her insides like a wrecking ball. “You and Tristan will be punished using the old ways immediately following this meeting. You will be marked with silver for betrayal and the extent of your punishment is mine to take. Silver marking will be how this pack operates from here on out. Tell a human. Bear the mark of your betrayal. Turn a human. Bear the mark of your treachery and worse as I deem it.”

  Fear had pounded in her blood with every terrifying word out of his mouth.

  How incredibly regrettable that she hadn’t just stayed home tonight.

  Chapter Two

  Linden couldn’t quite control her panting. Every time she looked at the frank terror in Meredith’s eyes, it was like a wrench was tightening her insides until she shook for control. The smell of her best friend’s fear was pungent, even across the bar top. Graham was going to hurt her, and there wasn’t a single thing she, or the wolf writhing inside of her, could do.

  Tristan look completely unafraid—until he dared a glance at Meredith.

  Little Frankie cleared his throat. “What are we going to do about the bar?”

  Wayne pulled a stack of folded papers from his back pocket and tossed them onto the counter. “Barret will run the bar.”

  Graham plucked the paper up and leaned back against a glass case that showed off the bar’s finer whiskeys. With a thoughtful expression, he read the three pages as silence descended on the bar like a thick fog.

  “You’ve been doing the books for this place?” he asked Barret.

  “Sure have,” the bald brawler in a biker’s vest grunted. “But I don’t know nothin’ about running no bar. I have a day job, and can’t bartend this place before eight in the evening.”

  “Well, we can’t just sell the place,” Wayne, a tall Norse looking man, argued. “This is where the Rebellion gets its funding. This is home base. Hell, we’ve changed in the woods out back for years.”

  A pang hit Linden as she thought about selling. Even though Ned and his betrayal tainted every nook and cranny in the place, she suddenly felt homesick at the thought of holding pack meetings somewhere else. She’d been kidnapped and brought here. She’d met the wolves for the first time in this ratty old bar. Her initiation into the pack was held here. The first change from human to animal had happened in the woods out back.

  “I’ll do it. I’ll bartend when you can’t,” she said to Barret.

  “Do you know how?”

  “No, but I can learn. I’ve been looking for jobs now that I have a future to hold one again. I’ll work here if it means we can keep the place.”

  “Pay’s six bucks an hour plus tips.”

  Her knowledge of bartender pay was severely limited, so that sounded fair to her. “Sold.”

  Graham flashed her a look she could’ve sworn held a tiny hint of approval, and she sighed in relief that she wasn’t caught in the wave of his earlier anger anymore.

  “Has anyone heard from Darren?” Little Frankie asked.

  Graham’s triceps threatened to rip out of his sweater as he gripped the counter. “Call him again. He should’ve been here long before now.”

  Little Frankie, who was not little at all and was only called so as a nickname before Old Frankie died, flipped his phone open and dialed a number. When the call went unanswered, he shook his head and made a short clicking sound against his front teeth. “He’s never missed a meeting, Boss. Never even been late.”

  Graham dropped his gaze to the dirty tile floor and slid a foot over until it brushed the side of Linden’s snow boot. A lengthy exhale left him before he raised his silver glare to the waiting werewolves. “We can’t wait on him. Frankie, Linden, Tristan and I will track him down after this and secure the bond. There will be enough witnesses, and we’ll send out a message when it is done and the pack is whole again.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay to be taking this on, Graham?” Barret asked quietly.

  The crack of power and fury that filled the room was suffocating. Linden wanted nothing more than to hide under the bar top, and from the retreat of the other wolves, they likely shared her instinct.

  “I’ll be fine,” Graham bit out. “Ask me that again and you’ll have to regrow your vitals. That goes for all of you. Don’t test me anymore.” He slammed the traditional goblet, bronzed and etched with ancient renderings of wolf-men, onto the counter. “Now bleed.”

  A beat of stunned silence followed. He didn’t want this. Everything in Graham’s stance said he’d rather be anywhere than here, binding himself to a pack. Duty was what held him in place, and Linden searched his face in pity before she ran her pocket knife against the palm of her hand. Fist clenched, she squeezed until the trickle was a stream, then passed it across the bar top to Wayne. Meredith sat sullen and pale with her hands clasped in her lap as Tristan approached the bar and slit his hand.

  Graham drank the goblet of Lycan blood down in two swallows and rinsed it in the sink to the soundtrack of silence so deep, it could rival any canyon. With a pained look, he dragged his eyes to Tristan and twitched his head toward the hallway that led to the office in back. To the others, he said in a voice as bland as water, “Drink what you want from the bar. Your old alpha betrayed you and lies cold in his grave, and your new one is Beast. Celebrate the Lycan blood that fills your veins. Revel in it, because no day is promised us. Tomorrow, we could all be dust.”

  Linden trailed him as he followed Tristan and Meredith to the office where he’d accepted his own lashings not so long ago. Quaking breath shuddered from Meredith’s lips and Linden grabbed her hand.

  “It’ll be over soon,” she breathed, squeezing her friend’s palm in desperation to comfort her.

  Meredith donned a brave smile, but her glossed lips trembled, and Linden wished with everything she had that she could take her place. She’d been through years of labs, tests, surgeries and treatments when she’d been human. Watching Meredith hurt would be worse than all of them.

  Graham rifled through a dusty closet until he found a polished wooden box. Blowing dust from the lid, he opened it and held a long rod with a single bar on the end. It stank of silver, but the handle was wooden and harmless in his grasp. He leaned against the table and waited as Tristan pulled his shirt over his head. Without a word, he kneeled with his back to them, and placed his oversized hands on his knees. His breath was calm and the pulse at his throat, steady.

  Graham thrust the rod against Tristan’s exposed shoulder.

  Unable to watch, she looked at Meredith, who didn’t seem able pull her eyes away from the searing flesh on Tristan’s back. If he felt it, she couldn’t tell from his stoic stance. His face was hidden in the shadows of his hair, which had fallen forward, but Meredith showed enough pain for the both of them.

  The smell of burning skin filled Linden’s sensitive nostrils, and the injuries on her shoulder scorched in remembered pain.

  Meredith, in a rush, pulled the lace top over her head until only a dark tank top remained. Plenty of skin showed for a brand, and she slid beside Tristan and grabbed his hand. “Do it fast. Please,” she implored.

  Pity swam in Graham’s eyes as he studied Linden’s face. A silent request for forgiveness hung between them before he pressed the brand against Meredith’s shoulder blade.

  Nothing happened.

  “It was the only way I could get out of marking you,” Graham explained solemnly.

  Meredith turned with the most bewildered expression on her face.

  “You’re human,” Linden whispered, dragging a stunned gaze
to Graham. “Silver doesn’t hurt you.”

  The wolves in the other room had been given the punishment promised for Meredith’s and Tristan’s mistakes, but Graham had done it in a way that only one of them had to pay for it. Meredith’s shoulders sagged with relief. Maybe that wasn’t true. Her fear had been punishment enough.

  The only sound in the room was the sizzle of Tristan’s blackened flesh where the silver brand had touched him. He’d bear the scar forever. The scar that signified the betrayal of his pack. Linden swallowed the bile that threatened to escape her, and closed her eyes tightly against the pain Tristan must be enduring.

  Meredith looked down at their locked hands. “Tristan? Are you okay?”

  “Your punishment isn’t through,” Graham said in a strained voice. “You kissed my mate, after I issued that no one was to touch her on pain of death. Stand up.”

  Chapter Three

  Flashes of the fight between Graham and Ned pummeled Linden’s mind, and she swayed on her feet. Tristan couldn’t survive a fight to the death against Graham. Her mate had died and come back a death bringer.

  Dread pushed through her, pounding against her veins as Tristan stood and turned. His face was as hard as a stone statue.

  “But I was the one who asked him to kiss me,” Linden argued. “We had to do it to bring you back. Nothing else was working—nothing!”

  Graham took two menacing steps toward Tristan, and Linden flung herself in front of him just as Meredith moved to do the same.

  “Please don’t do this,” Meredith begged.

  Two more steps toward them.

  “Graham!” Linden yelled. “Graham, if you’re in there, I need you now. You are going to hurt this pack, annihilate the bond just like Ned did. Tristan is your friend.”

  The furiously churning silver in Graham’s gaze hadn’t waivered from Tristan.

  “Oh God,” Linden whispered. Stepping forward, she slapped him across the face so hard her hand stung. Before she’d even followed through, he had her wrist in a grip so unbreakable, she gasped at the pain.

  Slowly, he turned his head toward her and leaned down, pulling her toward him until his lips brushed hers. He was so close, the warmth of his mouth caressed her, beckoning her forward. “Trust me,” he breathed.

  A flash of blue, then his glare was once more locked on Tristan. “I’ve killed enough to satiate me, so I’ll give you a choice. Death or find a mate.”

  Linden would’ve laughed at the sight of Tristan’s mouth hanging open if it weren’t for the very unfunny situation they were squatting in.

  “You can’t just order something like that,” Tristan said.

  “So death is your choice, then?”

  “I have no interest in sharing my life with anyone right now, and besides, there aren’t any other female Lycans in this part of America.”

  “Didn’t say your mate had to be a werewolf. Human is fine. It’s all I can accept.” Graham’s eyes pleaded for Tristan to understand. “You touched Linden, and I want to kill you for it. If you have a mate, I won’t feel the threat to what’s mine anymore. It’s the only way I can allow you to remain in my pack. Alive.”

  “But what if you feel differently when you’re better?” Linden asked. “Maybe when you’re whole again, you won’t be jealous and you’ll see the kiss for exactly what it was—a tool to bring you back from the dead.”

  Meredith slunk to the corner of the room, and sank against the wall like her body couldn’t take anymore.

  “Stop it,” Graham gritted out. “You keep talking like I’m going to turn into the man you remember, and I won’t. Even if everything comes back to me, I’ll still be changed from crossing over. Can’t you see you’re going to have to learn to care about me the way I am? All I see is red. The only thing I can think about is him touching you, and the only thing that will make it better is if I feed the wolf the debt owed to him in blood. I haven’t killed him because I know it would make you unhappy.” His eyes were steady and blue. “This is the best I can do.”

  “How much time do I have?” Tristan said in a quiet voice.

  “By the next full moon, you need to be bonded to your mate.”

  Red crept up Tristan’s neck and landed in his cheeks, and the veins in his neck bulged. “Where in the actual fuck, do you expect me to find a mate in a week and a half?”

  Graham arched his eyebrow like Tristan was an idiot and said, “Meredith will work.”

  “Shuuut your face,” Meredith said from the corner. “I’m not interested in being the bride of Lycanstein. No spank you. Tristan, you’re hot and all—I mean really hot—but this bachelorette is single and proud. I mean, I have an apartment and a job I love, and I own a cat! A cat with claws and hairballs. I’m not even a dog person. I like knitting. You frighten me. No.” She crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head rhythmically. “Nope.”

  Tristan was staring at her like he hadn’t a clue how she’d come to be here, and Linden rubbed her face until the coolness from her hands permeated the headache that was forming behind her eyes.

  “Graham, I’m serious when I say no to an arranged marriage,” Meredith said as the alpha stared at her with a thoughtful expression. “That’s insane.”

  “I wasn’t asking!” Tristan said, sounding offended.

  “Great,” she yelled. “Because my answer is no.”

  “I think we all got that, Meredith. You’re off the hook. I choose death.”

  “What?” she asked, narrowing her eyes and standing. “You’d rather die than choose me?” She looked at Linden with her arms raised in the air like she couldn’t believe what was happening.

  Linden shrugged helplessly.

  Tristan threw her a disparaging look. “Do it fast,” he muttered to Graham, using Meredith’s earlier words.

  Graham tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it on the desk. Aw shit, this was really happening.

  “Tristan,” Linden said. “You’re a legacy. Sooner or later you were going to have to find a mate anyway. Graham’s dad explained it all to me. Don’t pretend this wasn’t a fate you were going to have to deal with at some point. Legacies are expected to find a mate and have little Lycan sons to carry on the name. You and Graham are both the last of your names. This is just happening a little sooner than you’d hoped. It’s not worth your life though.”

  “I can’t find a mate in a week and a half, Linden. It doesn’t work that way.”

  “It did for Graham and me.”

  “You’re a Lycan. I’m paddling around in the human pool. It’s murkier there, trust me.” He kicked his shoes off and removed his belt as Graham circled him, cracking his knuckles.

  “Stubborn ass of a man. Stop it,” Meredith said, swatting at Graham’s fists. “I pick him.” She pulled Tristan’s hand to her mouth and licked his knuckles.

  “Cut it out,” Tristan said, pulling his hand away like her tongue had been made of silver. “This isn’t a joke, Meredith.”

  She cocked her head, her fiery eyebrows arched in a perfect display of annoyance. “I licked you, I picked you. Now, pick me back. Surely you don’t want to die this badly.”

  Tristan stared, and the murmured laughter of the oblivious Lycans in the next room was the only sound.

  “Come on,” Meredith said, shifting her weight. “Surely you can’t mean you’d rather die than pick me. Or if you hate me so much, let me set you up with some of my friends. You can go out with them and see if you’re wrong about the human dating pool. If you still feel this strongly by the full moon, then you guys can pummel each other into oblivion, but at least give me a chance. Please.”

  Linden wanted to beg and plead with Graham to change his mind. Tristan and Meredith together would be meteors, bent on destroying everything in their paths as they collided. Mere was a saint for offering to save him, but it wouldn’t work. As far as Linden knew, she hadn’t ever kept a serious boyfriend before now, and on purpose. She and Tristan would obliterate their future before it even began.


  Graham sat on the desk with a languid smile that said he absolutely didn’t care about such details.

  “Fine,” Tristan muttered.

  Chapter Four

  Tristan followed Meredith as she sashayed out of the bar. Draping his sweater over his uninjured shoulder, he jogged to keep up.

  “Night boys,” she called out with a wave as she passed the rest of the pack.

  “Shot?” Wayne drawled.

  “Don’t tempt me, you saucy minx,” she called over her shoulder. “I’ve got to drive home.”

  The woman was an enigma. One minute she was shaking in the corner, the next she’s throwing herself in front of a very pissed off Graham to protect him. Now she was acting like volunteering to be his mate was no big deal at all.

  Tristan’s back burned like a hot poker was still embedded under his skin, and he was drained from the near death experience with Graham. Meredith slammed the exit door in his face, and he sighed as he opened it.

  Frigid air caressed his bare skin, but it wasn’t as cold as the look Meredith tossed him.

  “Oh, now you’re pissed? What did I do?” he asked, following. “I never asked you to volunteer for this mess. That was all you. I picked death, remember?”

  “Yes,” she yelled, nearly bursting his sensitive eardrums. He rubbed the abused appendages as she barreled down on him. “And you know what else I remember? Graham killing Ned. He killed him and tossed his limp body onto the bloody carpet. I watched a man die, Tristan, and you were going to make me go through that again.” She pushed him, hard.

  The lone streetlight illuminated the shades of red in her hair, and the green in her eyes looked even brighter, fueled by her fury. Her full bottom lip trembled as she hit him again and again.