Wild Card

by Rachel Vincent

  “It’d be starting from scratch,” Faythe said. “With all the risks and benefits of the original tribunal draw, minus the chance of drawing Blackwell. May God have mercy on his withered old soul.”

  “So, what’s the procedure?” I sank onto the couch next to Justus and took his hand. “Who decides whether or not to ask for a redraw?”

  “It’s a full-council vote. Simple majority. I think we have the votes for that—”

  “No,” a new voice said, and we turned as one. Titus Alexander stood in the office doorway, with Robyn looking over his shoulder from the hallway. “No redraw.”

  “Titus!” Faythe stood and pulled him into a hug. “It’s good to see you again! Though I am sorry for the circumstances.”

  He shrugged and gave her back a pat. “From what I’ve learned so far, everything’s an emergency when you have a whole Pride to run.”

  “True.” She let him go and moved on to greet Robyn while Titus turned to his brother and me.

  Justus stood and tugged me up, and my heart seemed to be beating its way out of my chest. I’d only met the stray Alpha once, about a year before, and I hadn’t given him much thought. He was hot, in an older-guy kind of way, but he was all business and I’d still been very dedicated to going out every weekend with any human guy who caught my eye—my way of waving my middle finger at every tomcat asshole who’d called me a man-eater behind my back. And, in retrospect, my way of reassuring myself that someone wanted me.

  But now Titus was my…brother in law. Whether or not he knew it.

  He pulled Justus into a hug, and I could hear the emotion in his voice when he scolded his brother. “I said ‘don’t do anything stupid.’” He let Justus go and looked into gray eyes so much like his own it must have been like looking into a younger mirror. “What the hell were you thinking?”

  I couldn’t tell whether Justus was being scolded for trying to flee the country or for marrying me, and my groom didn’t seem sure either. “Later,” he grumbled.

  Titus nodded and turned to me. “You must be Kaci.”

  “We’ve actually met before,” I said, and it took actual effort to project volume. It wasn’t Titus’s status as Alpha that was making me nervous. It was the fact that he was the only family Justus had left, and I desperately wanted him to like me. Or at least not hate his brother for marrying me.

  Or me for marrying his brother.

  “Of course. I remember.” He shook my right hand, then held onto it for a second. “You were still in high school.”

  “Titus!” Robyn snapped at him. “Don’t be an asshole!”

  Justus groaned. “Leave her alone.”

  “It wasn’t an insult.” He clapped his brother on the arm. “Just making sure I have the facts right here. Though I do reserve the right to be insulted that my own brother—my only living relative—didn’t invite me to his wedding.” Titus lifted my left hand and studied the rings on my finger. “Quite the occasion that must have been.”

  “I’m afraid none of us were invited,” Faythe gave me a sympathetic look, but made no effort to bail me out. Her message was clear. If I was old enough to get married, I was old enough to deal with my in-laws—er, my one in-law—on my own.

  Fair enough.

  “It was kind of a last-minute…event,” I told him, my chin held high. “I’m sorry we didn’t tell anyone. Like, really sorry.” Almost as sorry as I was that I couldn’t remember the event myself. Though I had hope that it, like my proposal, would eventually come back to me. “Maybe we could have a reception or something. Here, at the ranch? We could do the cake-cutting thing and throw a bouquet, and I could probably be convinced to put on a dress. Faythe didn’t want much fuss for her wedding, so Karen kind of felt cheated out of a big party. She’d probably help us plan something.” I smiled, kind of excited by the idea, but Titus only stared at me.

  “That sounds great.” Justus slid his arm around me and kissed my neck. I fought the urge to cling to him. I hadn’t been this on-edge when Jared’s car had flipped with me inside it.

  And still his brother stared.

  “Titus, we think we have a good chance at getting a more favorable tribunal, now that Blackwell is out of the picture.” Faythe crossed her arms over her blouse and sat on the edge of her desk. “Isaac Wade would be a best-case scenario.”

  “That’s Jace’s brother-in-law,” I whispered to Justus.

  “And I think Jerold Pierce would be a reasonable judge.”

  Titus turned to Faythe. “I’m sorry, but could my brother and I possibly have the use of your office for a few minutes?”

  Faythe blinked, obviously surprised. Then she stood. “Of course. Ladies, could I interest you in a cup of coffee? Or Robyn, maybe a glass of wine?”

  “Sure. Thanks.” On her way out of the office, Robyn went up on her toes to whisper something to Titus. I couldn’t make it out, but she sounded angry. Or maybe embarrassed.

  “Don’t worry,” Justus whispered to me as he kissed my cheek. “He’s mad at me, not you.”

  But I didn’t believe that for one second. I’d proposed to Justus. Within hours of running off to Las Vegas with him. Titus probably thought I was using his brother for his money. Which was a hilarious irony, considering that Marc and the South-Central enforcers thought Justus was using me to get to his money.

  It would be great to have just one person who could understand our relationship for what it was.

  It would be even better if that person were me.

  I grabbed Faythe’s arm the moment the office door closed behind us. “He hates me,” I whispered.

  “I’m sure he doesn’t—”

  “Faythe, he hates me.”

  “Okay, calm down.” She turned to Robyn. “I’m sorry to abandon you, but…” Faythe tilted her head in my direction.

  “No worries,” Robyn said. “I’ll just snoop around here on my own.”

  “I’m sure if you wander into the kitchen, my mother will try to feed you. Or offer you a drink.”

  “Sounds good. Thanks.” Robyn headed into the kitchen, and Faythe followed me into my room. Where I’d slept for the past two nights without Justus. Vic, from what I’d heard, had started sleeping in front of the guest house door to keep him from sneaking out to ‘see’ me.

  And for the record, there is nothing in the world more humiliating than knowing that the entire South-Central compound knows you’re trying unsuccessfully to get laid.

  Faythe hadn’t tried to talk me out of sleeping with my husband, but she’d refused to step in on our behalf with Marc and Vic until after the hearing, because she thought we should take everything slow until then.

  Logically, I couldn’t argue. But logic didn’t mean much when I was around Justus, and when I’d tried to point out similar incidents in her own past, she’d only frowned and told me to learn from her mistakes.

  But what I’d learned was that if the tribunal was redrawn and that draw didn’t go our way, Justus would still have to flee the country. And he’d need access to his money for that. I wanted him to have that access. I wanted him to live, even if I couldn’t go with him.

  But if the draw did go our way… If we got to stay in the states, a legitimately married couple…

  I sank onto the end of my bed, and Faythe took my desk chair. “I’ve ruined this, haven’t I? I should have called Titus when we got back to the ranch? Or I should have made Justus call him? I don’t even know who told him about the wedding.”

  “I did,” Faythe said.

  “How’d he take it? Was he mad?”

  “He was…surprised.”

  “Why does that sound like a euphemism for really fucking mad.”

  “Language,” Faythe said.

  “Sorry.”

  “Kaci, you stole two cars, ran off to Vegas, and married an underage gambler. Without bothering to tell either of your families. You knew there would be consequences for that.”

  “Yes. But I didn’t think those consequences would include his f
amily hating me.”

  “Titus will get over it. But you’re going to have to give him time.”

  “There isn’t much time for me to give him. Justus’s trial is in less than three days. Unless you think forcing a redraw will delay it…?”

  Faythe could only shrug. “I’m not even sure we’re forcing a redraw yet. Titus seems set against it.”

  I frowned, picking at my ragged fingernails. “Why would he want to keep Robert Taylor on the tribunal?”

  Faythe turned a serious glance toward the door, as if she could see through it. “I’m assuming he knows something we don’t.”

  Eighteen

  Justus

  “What the hell were you thinking?” Titus demanded again the moment the door closed behind Kaci, and I could tell from the volume of his voice alone that he knew the room was virtually soundproof.

  He’d commandeered Faythe’s office to yell at me.

  “Do you mean the cash advance on my card, or trying to flee the country?” I sank onto the couch, trying to look calm and in control—and nothing like the kid he obviously still thought I was. “Or marrying Kaci?”

  “I mean all three of them. Somehow you’ve managed to commit a trifecta of stupidity, and you dragged a traumatized little girl into it.”

  “She’s not traumatized. She’s…scarred. Healed. She’s strong, and she’s smart. And she’s not a child.”

  “She’s eighteen years old!”

  It wouldn’t do any good to point out that it was perfectly legal to get married at eighteen, or that eighteen was old enough to vote. He would only point out all the things eighteen wasn’t old enough for. So I went with a different kind of truth. “She’s older at eighteen than I was.”

  “She’s probably older at eighteen than you are now!” Titus snapped. “Please tell me you haven’t slept with her.”

  Anger flared inside me like fuel dumped on a bonfire. I’d never really fought with Titus, yet suddenly, he felt more like an enemy than the lifelong ally I’d always thought of him as.

  My brother knew what it was like to fall in love at an inconvenient time. He should be celebrating with me. Not grilling me.

  “What Kaci and I have done is none of your business,” I growled.

  “Do not take that tone with me,” he growled back, and I fought an infuriating instinct to cower away from him. This Alpha crap was bullshit. I was in the right. Kaci and I were both of age, and we’d made a legal and binding decision. One I would stick with until the day I died.

  “She’s my wife, Titus.”

  “Don’t—”

  “You should be happy for me. You should be cracking open a bottle of fucking champaign and welcoming her to the family, not yelling at me. Not interrogating me.”

  His mouth snapped shut, and he seemed to be consciously trying to edit whatever he wanted to say as he sank onto the couch across the rug from me. “She’s a child, Justus. So are you. Tell me this isn’t binding. Marc said he didn’t think you’d…consummated. I’ve spoken to my lawyer, and we can get this annulled if you two haven’t—”

  “None. Of your. Business.” I managed to keep from growling that time, but only barely. “The things I will listen to from you right now include, ‘Congratulations, Justus, I’m so happy for you!’ and ‘She’s wonderful. Mom and Dad would’ve loved her. I hope you two are very happy.’”

  His gaze darkened. “Mom and—”

  “You have to say that, Titus,” I growled at him. “Someone has to say that, and you’re the only one left. They would love her. You know they would love her.”

  “Of course they would love her. She’s fucking adorable, and Marc says she’s smart, and quick on her feet—hell, she wrecked a car to get away from a kidnapper—but none of that is really relevant. Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me? To all the people in my territory who depend on me? I’m fighting to get our territory recognized. To provide basic civil rights to a population that’s been disenfranchised for centuries. To protect them. To protect you. Marc and Faythe took you in as a favor to me. To help you. And you run off and sleep with their fucking daughter. You marry her to get your damned inheritance.”

  “You know that’s not true.” I launched myself off the couch and paced toward Faythe’s desk, then turned to face him and sat on the edge of it.

  “It’s not about what I know. It’s about what the council will think. It’s about the facts, and the picture they paint. In college you were with a different girl every week, until Ivy. Whom you’re on trial for infecting. Who died because she cheated on her boyfriend with you.”

  “Do not throw that in my face. You know Drew—”

  “I know what Drew did. I know that wasn’t your fault. I’m on your side. But they’re not. Half of the council—maybe more—is looking for any excuse to execute you. To make an example of you. You have to give them a reason to be on your side, but you skipped straight from infecting a girl you were cheating with to manipulating a traumatized eighteen-year-old tabby so you can access your trust fund, on your way to fleeing the country! What are they supposed to think? How are they supposed to rule in your favor now? How are they supposed to rule in my favor?”

  “This isn’t about you, Titus.”

  “Bullshit.” He stood, gesturing with both hands, just like our dad used to do when he was mad. “This is about all of us. Whether you like it or not, out here, you represent all strays. You don’t get the luxury of making mistakes any natural-born tom would get away with because when natural-born cats mess up, people assume they’ve made an isolated mistake, but when we mess up, they assume we’re demonstrating an innate inferiority. That we’re justifying their prejudices.”

  “That’s bullshit!” I snapped.

  “Yes.” Titus’s nod was short and sharp. “But it’s also reality. What your mistakes are telling the people who have the power to keep guys like you and me from becoming citizens is that if they let us into their world, we might steal their cars and gamble under age—either of which could draw the attention of the human authorities—and drag their precious daughters into a fucking crime spree! Tabbies are everything out here. You may not understand that, but—”

  “I understand. I’ve been living the shifter immersion program for four months, Titus. But Kaci’s not like the other tabbies. They don’t think of her like that. They…” Anger flared inside me at just the memory of what I’d heard from Brian Taylor, and from Kaci herself. “They call her the man-eater.”

  My brother blinked, his head cocked to the side. “What?”

  “That’s what they call her behind her back. Though she hears them. She’s grown up like that. Feeling like a freak and a monster. Like no matter what she does, no one will ever want her, despite how rare and precious women are in their world, and how desperate they are for female shifters.”

  “Why?” Titus’s forehead furrowed; obviously Marc hadn’t told him that part.

  “Because when they found her, she’d been living on her own in the woods, stuck in cat form for so long that she’d nearly forgotten she was ever human. She was terrified and starving. She found a human corpse, and she ate from it to survive. But these assholes out here don’t understand shit like that. They’ve never been stuck in one form. They’ve never thought they were losing their minds, when their bodies start doing things they don’t understand. Demanding things they don’t want. They’ve never not known how to handle hunger, or rage, or bloodlust. But Kaci has. She’s just like us. Titus, she may have married me for the money—so we could both get the hell out of here—but I married her because I understand her. And because I knew after just one night with her that no one else would ever understand me like she does.” I sucked in a deep breath, then spit out the truth. “I fucking love her, man.”

  “You…? She… She’s a stray?” He combed through his hair with one hand, and I enjoyed his confusion way more than I should have. Historically, there had been very few things that I understood but my older brother did not. “I thou
ght Robyn was the only one.”

  “She’s not a stray. She’s what they call a genetic recessive. Her parents both had the werecat gene, and one of their daughters inherited two recessives—which activates the gene—and the other didn’t. Kaci was born to human parents who had no idea shifters existed. Then she hit puberty, and one day: bam! She shifted into a big cat. Out of the blue. She wasn’t scratched. She didn’t grow up in a house full of shifters. She was a human, then she was a cat, with no preparation, warning, or infection.”

  “Holy shit,” Titus whispered as he sank onto the couch again. “I didn’t even know that was possible.”

  “I didn’t either. Evidently no one did. They theorize that she wasn’t the first incidence of that. She couldn’t have been. But Marc can tell you all about that. What I know is that after she shifted, she was terrified and freaked out, and she accidentally killed her mother and her sister, when they found her in the back yard.” I frowned. “Well, actually what they found was Kaci’s clothes, and a big black cat growling at them. They tried to defend themselves. She tried to defend herself, and shit went sideways. She’s been through things neither of us can imagine, Titus. So, you’re going to be fucking nice to her.”

  My brother stood and pulled me into a hug. “I’m sorry Justus. I didn’t know. And Mom and Dad would like her.”

  “Yeah. They would.” And for a second, I thought I’d actually gotten through to him. I thought maybe I could bring Kaci back in, and we could start over and be a happy fucking family for a few minutes.

  But then I realized there was something off in his expression. In the sad but determined way he was looking at me. Like he looked at me the day he told me our parents had died.

  “But Justus, that doesn’t change anything. Sit down. Please.”

  “No. Just say whatever you’re going to say, so we can get on with this argument.” Because that was clearly all this discussion would ever be.