Slip the Skin

by Shanley, Tera

“You put me in this position. You and all of your stupid pack with your archaic rules and violent traditions.

  “Stop it,” he growled, pulling her close until she stilled. Wrapping his arms around her tiny frame, he hugged her harder than he’d ever dared with another woman. He was angry, and injured, and this close to just letting the snarling wolf claw his way out of him.

  Was she crying?

  Her shoulders shook with emotion and he sighed, exhaling some of the anger. Damn the woman for the power she wielded.

  “I’m sorry about you being there when Ned was killed. I didn’t think about how hard it must be for you. Hopefully you can look past the gore of it and see it was necessary for Graham to act on his instincts though. You weren’t there the night we were attacked in the woods, so you don’t feel the anger at Ned for what he did to our people.” Rocking her gently, he assured her, “He got what was coming to him.”

  She pulled her face back and arched her neck to look into his eyes. “I don’t want to be a Lycan.”

  He brushed her tears away with the pads of his thumbs. “I’d never do that to you. You wouldn’t survive it. Linden survived, but women so rarely do. She’s a fluke.”

  “But you talk about humans like they’re disgusting. How is this going to work if you think the same of me?”

  Searching her eyes, he shook his head and pulled her cheek to his chest. She was warm and soft and alive against him, and he rested his chin on her hair. She smelled of floral scented shampoo and mint. No way was he dragging her into this life full of chaos and violence. She could become strong enough for it, but only at the cost of who she was.

  She would break under their bond, and he’d whither right along with her.

  Softly, he said, “This won’t work. Which is why I need you to set me up with one of your friends. I don’t care who, and I don’t have a preference. Just someone who will be fine with me keeping secrets.”

  The moon taunted him. Half-filled, she hung low in the sky. It’s almost time, Moon seemed to whisper on the breeze.

  Maybe Meredith didn’t notice that she was stroking his back with long laps of her hands. The goose bumps that rose on his flesh could have just as easily been from her touch as from the winter air. It had been flattering to have such a beautiful woman stand for him, and he would never forget her kindness. He’d repay her by letting her out of their dark bargain.

  “What are you doing tomorrow?” he asked.

  “Probably hanging out with Linden at your house. Where have you been staying anyway?”

  “I’ve been crashing in town near the Primal Protective Services office. There’s a cheap motel down the street. Makes it easier to get to work.”

  He thought of her getting in her little car and driving away. After what she’d just offered to do, he looked for excuses to make her stay—to spend just a little more time with her. When she was around, he felt…lighter. It was wrong, and he would find another woman to spare Meredith this life, but he couldn’t stomach her leaving right now. “Listen, since tomorrow is Saturday, and neither of us work, why don’t we go back inside and throw a few back with the boys? I can’t leave yet in case Graham still wants me to go with him and Frankie to check on one of our members who didn’t show. You can have some fun, and I’ll take you home later so you don’t have to worry about driving. I can bring your car to you tomorrow.”

  “I could really use a shot,” she admitted. “Tonight was rough.”

  “For you and me both.”

  Her nails gently rake his skin until her hands rested on his stomach. “Tristan?”

  “Hmmm?” The effort to control his breathing was massive, and surely she could tell his dick had stirred to life the first moment she touched him. It was practically jammed against her belly, and every time she moved it only got harder.

  “Put your damned shirt on.” With a saucy grin, Meredith stepped around him and disappeared into Ned’s Bar.

  He stared at the door for a long time, then turned and frowned into the dark. He would put his shirt back on just as soon as the frigid night air cooled the fire in his veins.

  Suddenly, saving her from himself felt like it was going to be a sacrifice—maybe the biggest one he’d ever made.

  Chapter Five

  Tristan had a very apparent aversion to choosing her before the full moon, but Meredith hadn’t a guess as to what. They got along well, and from the way he watched her from behind the pool table across the bar, he didn’t find her unattractive.

  The better question was, why did it even bother her so much? He’d just offered her a get-out-of-jail free card on a golden platter.

  “Go on,” Wayne slurred. He gestured to a third shot of whiskey he’d poured for her when she wasn’t looking.

  “Last one.” Her lips were already numb, and talking coherently would be a chore after this one. She usually preferred to sip champagne, but that kind of nectar didn’t exist in Ned’s Bar. It was whiskey, or a different brand of whiskey. If Linden was going to bartend here, maybe she’d call in a favor and have her stock some of her favorites on the menu.

  She and Graham played pool against Tristan and Frankie, but when the latter turned to grab his jacket and wave goodbye, Tristan’s emerald eyes found her again. Come here, he mouthed.

  She repressed a shudder at the sexy way his mouth formed the words, and downed the fiery liquor. Snatching her slate gray pea coat from the back of the chair, she picked her way around the tables and helped Linden put away the pool cues.

  Tristan shrugged tenderly into his jacket, and Graham pushed the door open. “Don’t forget to lock up,” he called to Barret before he and Linden disappeared into the night.

  “You want to come check on Darren with us? Graham let Frankie off the hook, so now there is an extra seat if you want it,” Tristan said through an easy smile.

  Hmm, he was pretty. “Sure.”

  He plucked her jacket from her grasp, then helped her into it.

  “Bye, Meredith,” Wayne called from the bar. “Come back and see us real soon.”

  The edges of the room blurred and swayed but she plastered on a smile. “Wayne, you stay dangerous, my friend. I like that in a bartender.”

  Holding the door open, Tristan canted his head and asked her low, “Did you have fun?”

  “Surprisingly, yes. I had a fun night shootin’ the doo with a biker gang.”

  His deep chuckle brushed her ear and pulled a smile from her lips. He had a nice laugh.

  Graham and Linden were definitely making out against the front of Tristan’s truck, so she turned and stumbled on the gravel. Heeled boots would be a no next time she came to Ned’s Bar. “So I’ve decided who I’m going to set you up with. And I’ve already texted her so it’s too late to back out now. Her name is Diana, and she has terrible taste in men.”

  “Thanks,” he said flatly.

  “Not like that. I mean she’s dated some real jerks, so you’ll look like prince charming to her. So long as you don’t, you know, eat small mammals in front of her. She’s vegetarian.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Wait. Don’t you even want to know what she looks like?”

  “I told you, it doesn’t matter.”

  “Great,” she said, wiggling her phone in front of him. “Diana confirmed for tomorrow night. You want to read how excited your future wifey is to meet you?”

  “Not really. And I’m not marrying her. Finding a mate is different than finding a wife.”

  “How so? They both seem like pretty big commandments. Commitments.” She should’ve stopped at shot number two.

  He cast a dark look to the couple plastered against the grill of his truck, then frowned at her. “I don’t know. Why don’t you ask Linden that stuff? She’d know more about it than me.”

  “You don’t have to be rude. It was just a question.” The brick wall of Ned’s was unforgiving against her back as she leaned against it and tried to make o’s with the steam of her breath.

  Sighing an
impatient sound, he thrust his hands into his pocket and sat on the stone encasement of the landscaping. “My dad never married, and he claimed he had six mates. I don’t think he knew what it felt like to find the one. He didn’t understand love or devotion. I doubt I’ll be any better at it. He left my mom to raise me, and then he took me when she figured out something was wrong with me and tracked him down. She said I’m just like my old man. Maybe I am.” He brought an agonized gaze to hers and she froze at the raw emotion she saw churning there.

  The unexpectedness of his admission filled her with sorrow. He was going to lead a loveless life because of Graham’s order and some preconceived notion that genetics determined how useless he’d be at it. Tristan would’ve figured this stuff out if he was given a chance to mature, and get to a place in his life where he wanted a partner.

  It was too soon for him, and nothing could be done about it.

  ****

  “Shotgun,” Meredith called as she stumbled through the parking lot.

  “No,” Graham said over Linden’s head. His hands were warm on her bare back, and carefully, he pulled her shirt down. If he was going to get this worked up every time he almost fought someone, she wasn’t going to dread his skirmishes so badly.

  “Fine,” Meredith muttered.

  “Sit in back with me,” Linden said. Maybe if Graham and Tristan sat up front together, they could work things out. Or kill each other. Hopefully the former though.

  Tristan’s truck practically needed a step stool to enter it, and Linden had to hoist Meredith upward with two firmly planted hands on her backside. Memories of sneaking out of Mom’s house when they were sixteen through the bathroom window pulled a giggle from her lips. At least this time Mere wasn’t wearing a trampy tube top as a skirt. Linden had nearly lost a fake nail in the meat of her friend’s left buttock.

  Graham offered his hand, and his palm was warm and firm as he helped her into the back seat.

  When they were settled, and the engine roared to life, Graham said, “Tristan, I know what you did for me, and I don’t want you thinking I don’t appreciate the sacrifices you’ve been making. Backing Linden when she was trying to bring me back, taking my shifts at work and letting us stay in your place. You’re a good friend.”

  Linden would give her favorite shoes to see the color of his eyes right now. She bet they were sapphire blue. If they were silver, he would’ve just grunted his appreciation like a caveman.

  “Then why,” Tristan gritted out as he pulled from the parking lot, “did you order me to find a mate by next week?”

  “You know why.” Heavy silence overlaid the cab of the truck. “I’m naming you as my second.”

  Linden pursed her lips and shot Mere a shocked glance. Meredith, however, was swaying to the low volume of a Wilco song and mouthing the words badly.

  Tristan didn’t take his eyes from the road, nor did he respond. Linden’s phone vibrated against the sides of a lip gloss container in her purse, making the rapid-fire clack clack clack sound of miniature gunfire. She pulled it loose and flipped it open.

  Michael, Graham’s father, had asked how the alpha initiation went. They’d been talking often from the time she’d attended Graham’s funeral to bury his son. He hadn’t died though. Not all the way and that day she’d vowed to bring Michael his son back—which she had…mostly. Since then, they’d kept in touch about Graham’s progress.

  It went as well as could be expected, she texted. He branded Tristan, but then named him as his second. This is big, right?

  “Who is it?” Meredith asked as Linden closed the phone.

  Graham’s dad, she mouthed.

  Mere lifted an ice scraper from the floor to her lips and sang, “Choo choo Charlie was a pretty good band, but something something what nah nah nah nah,” then melded directly into a drum solo almost as horrible as the butchered song lyrics.

  “How long does it take to get to Danny’s house?” Linden asked as she dodged a flying base drum kick.

  “Fifteen more minutes,” Tristan said.

  “Ah, he spreaks!” Mere slurred.

  “How much did you have to drink?” Linden asked.

  “Everything.”

  “Blame Wayne for that one,” Tristan muttered. “Why me? Why do you want me as your second? You just branded me as a traitor to the pack.”

  “Because I trust you. You’re the logical choice to back me.”

  “I’m good at mid-level though. There, I stay out of trouble.”

  Graham snorted and tilted his head. “You’re too dominant to stay mid-level forever, Tristan.”

  Linden leaned forward. “Tristan, he’ll be a better alpha to serve under than Ned was.”

  “Obviously,” Tristan growled out. “That dick got me silver shot.”

  “Me too,” she said. Except her injury hadn’t happened in the woods by some anonymous hunters. Ned himself had pulled the trigger.

  “Me too,” Graham said dryly.

  The weight of his reminder was loaded. Out of the three of them, Graham had been the only one who died and clawed his way back. He’d lost the most.

  “I’ll do it,” Tristan said.

  It was cute that he thought he had a choice about it. The new mostly wolf Graham wasn’t awesome at negotiating.

  Her phone vibrated again and she read the text.

  Two unrelated legacies leading a pack. Hasn’t happened in over three hundred years. You’re right. This is big.

  “Holy moly,” she breathed, closing the phone slowly.

  Immediately, Graham’s hand was on her leg and he sat twisted in his seat, concern simmering in his silvery eyes.

  “You two just did something that hasn’t been done since the early 1700’s. Your dad says two unrelated legacies leading a pack hasn’t happened since then.”

  “Well, he would know,” Tristan said. “Mr. Hayes is a history buff on Lycan lore.”

  “What?” Meredith said. “Why aren’t you guys freaking out? This is awesome! You’re like…werewolf rock stars.”

  “When is my next shift?” Graham asked.

  Tristan shot him a surprised glance. “Monday morning. I was going to have Roderick fill in because we’re both scheduled, but I can call him off.”

  “I need to work again.”

  Tristan gripped the wheel until his knuckles turned white. “As your second—”

  “Don’t. I’m as ready as I can get right now. And I need the money. I have savings but I don’t want to spend it on bills if I can avoid it.”

  Linden closed her eyes against imaginings of Graham, the new Graham, hefting his weapon in a crowd. Being a bodyguard meant extreme control in every situation. The opposite of what his wolf was. But if he thought he was ready, she needed to take his advice and trust him more. He wouldn’t get back to his old self with her questioning his every move.

  Tristan pulled off the main asphalt road and onto a gravel one. Tiny rocks pinged against the undercarriage of the Ford and after a mile, he turned down a well-worn driveway.

  Danny’s Harley sat idle in front of his modest house, and every light was on.

  Graham shook his head and a soft rumble sounded from his throat. “Please tell me he didn’t choose watching television in his underwear over attending alpha initiation.”

  Linden opened the back door and froze. Something familiar floated the breeze, and she inhaled again. Rot, iron and something more. The hairs raised on the back of her neck, and she scanned the woods as she rubbed warmth back into it.

  The men still sat the front seat, debating on punishment, but something cold was settling into her gut.

  “Graham,” she said as he and Tristan opened their doors.

  He froze, eyes locked on the house. “I smell it, too.”

  “What is that?” she breathed.

  Tristan peered into the woods behind them like she had. “Death.”

  Chapter Six

  “She shouldn’t see this,” Tristan said.

  Meredith huddled in
to herself, against the frigid wind. “What’s going on?”

  “I can stay here with her,” Linden offered. Really, she shouldn’t be seeing whatever waited for them either.

  Graham gripped the door and narrowed his eyes at the woods behind them. “No, it’s too dangerous to split up. This has trap written all over it. Stay together, stay close. Tristan, call the pack and give them a heads up something is wrong. We need to give them a place to start if something happens.”

  “If what happens?” and eerily sober sounding Meredith asked. “Will someone please tell me what’s going on?”

  Leaning over the driver’s seat, Tristan flipped open the glove compartment and pulled a Glock from its shadows.

  Meredith gasped and Linden squeezed her hand. “Something’s wrong,” she whispered. “We don’t know what yet but we’ll find out. Everything is going to be okay.” If she only felt half as confident as she sounded.

  Danny’s house was a small one story, tan in color with white trim. The front lawn was overgrown and the landscaping, or lack thereof, said Danny wasn’t much of a mulcher. The door stood ajar, and a sliver of light stretched and faded to oblivion across the small porch. Graham, pressed it open slowly.

  Inside, books and picture frames, splinters of wooden furniture and shards of glass littered the entryway. Linden’s heart galloped, and her hands shook so hard, she clenched them at her sides. Glass crunched under their careful footfall and somewhere in the back of the house, an old record player played the last few notes of a song over and over.

  Danny had fought whatever force he’d met.

  “Danny?” Graham called. His voice held no hope at all.

  The smell led them through the rubble and directly into the master bedroom where Danny hung from an exposed pipe in the ceiling. His eyes were open, staring, and his lips were twisted in the terror of his last few moments of life.

  “Oh my God,” Meredith whispered and Tristan shielded her from Danny’s body.

  Graham’s chest heaved, and the muscles in his arms rippled under the material of his sweater like he needed to pummel something to release his fury. “Who could’ve done this to him?”