A Pack of Love and Hate

by Olivia Wildenstein

  Zack grinned. “’Kay then. See you in a couple hours for brunch.”

  As I strode through the long building, I wondered what he and Liam were going to discuss—the selection stick, perhaps? I couldn’t imagine Zack, father of so many girls, wanted that thing anywhere near his pack.

  A brief moonlit walk later, I was back at the guest cottage. I took a long shower, then put on my sleep shorts and a clean tank top. Before getting into bed, I checked my phone for a signal, but found none. I went into the living room and held up the device; I wasn’t sure why I thought elevating it could help snag a network.

  The front door opened then, and Liam came in.

  I yanked my arm back, hoping he hadn’t seen me acting like a human antenna. “What did Zack want?”

  He eyed my phone. “He wanted to know my stance on inter-pack marriage.”

  I frowned. “He wanted to marry you off to one of his daughters?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Who then?”

  Liam’s gaze climbed up to my face.

  “Me?” I squawked.

  “No. Not you either, Ness.”

  Relief crept over me, but then it crept away, because Liam’s expression remained serious.

  “He’d only be interested if we won the duel, though.”

  “Just spit it out, Liam.”

  “He said Ingrid expressed interest in seeing August again.”

  The missing tether felt like a phantom limb—absent but forever there. “Did you tell him August wasn’t on the market?”

  “I didn’t tell him anything.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t think it’s a good idea that people know my Second has a fated mate. I wouldn’t want anyone to use him against you.”

  “Oh.” I dragged the fingers that weren’t clutching my cell phone through my damp hair.

  “And because a lot can change between now and the Winter Solstice. Look at how fast it changed between us.”

  “Whose fault was that?”

  “Mine. It was entirely my fault. I let Aidan Michaels put doubt in my head. I regret every second of what happened, but werewolves can’t time-travel, so besides apologizing, there isn’t much else I can do to fix the past.” Several breaths later, he added, “Do you miss him?”

  I bit my lower lip. I did, but I didn’t want to discuss August with Liam, so I kept quiet.

  “Forget it. I don’t want to know.” He walked toward the bedroom. “I’ll grab a shower, and then I’ll be out of your hair for the night.”

  “Will you tell August about the proposal?”

  He stopped in the doorway and turned sideways but kept his gaze on the fireplace mantle. “I promised Zack I’d pass on the message, but I won’t force August to marry someone.” His gaze scaled up the bare wall. “You two have a history, I get that, but he’s a decade older than you. Doesn’t it bother you?”

  My fingers squeezed around my phone. “Does it bother you?”

  His mouth pressed into a sullen line. “You kept telling me he was like a brother to you, so yeah, I find your attraction . . . incongruous, but you guys have a mating link, and apparently, they blind people to what’s wrong or right.”

  “So you think it’s wrong?”

  “Does it matter what I think?”

  I assumed that what Liam thought was shared by the rest of the pack. Perhaps not the entire pack. Frank had been all for it. “I didn’t ask for this mating link.”

  Before stepping inside the bedroom, Liam sighed. “I don’t know if you remember, but August thought I killed my own father, so he’s not really up there on the list of people I trust or like. Plus, he got you. And I’d be lying if I said that didn’t play into what I thought of the guy. But I’ll also admit that from an outside perspective, a twenty-seven-year-old guy preying on an eighteen-year-old will raise some eyebrows. No one will judge you, but August will definitely incur judgment. Anyway, thanks to me”—he tapped the doorway—“you have some time to think about it.”

  The implications of what he was saying hit me.

  Really hit me.

  I didn’t want August to be crucified because of me. And yes, in a week from now, I would no longer be a minor, but I’d still be nine years younger.

  I’d always be nine years younger.

  In my twenties, that difference wouldn’t be so horrendous, but until then, what he and I had was taboo.

  Perhaps Liam’s condition was a blessing in disguise.

  15

  Pounding.

  It echoed around me, driving needles of adrenaline through my legs.

  I twisted around to find a black bear on my heels. I pushed my breathless body harder until every footfall felt like I was shattering a bone.

  The beast jumped and sank its claws inside my human spine, and I screamed.

  “Ness!” a voice yelled.

  Two paws slammed into my shoulders, and I lurched into a sitting position, shoving the creature’s paws off me.

  Not a creature, and not paws.

  Just Liam.

  Blood battered my veins as I scrubbed my hands along the sides of my face to dispel the nightmarish chase.

  “Bad dream?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Want to tell me about it?”

  I shuddered at the memory. “The bear we killed, it was running after me. And it caught me.”

  Concern pinched his brow. “My first big kill haunted me for weeks.”

  “It’s not my first big kill, Liam.”

  He frowned.

  “You killed it, not me.” I scooted higher on the bed. “But it was definitely the largest animal I’ve ever gone up against.”

  “Our first big kill together.” He smiled wistfully. “We made a good tag team out there.” His expression undid more of our snarled past.

  “Hope we make as good of a tag team during the duel.”

  “I have no doubt we will.” His gaze lingered on my face a moment, but then he shook his head, got off my tangled bedsheets, and rubbed his palms over his jean-clad thighs. “Pack your bag. We’ll stop by the dining hall for brunch, and then we’ll head straight to the airport.”

  After he closed the door, I exchanged my sleep shorts and tank top for a pair of white denim shorts and a black T-shirt. I made a pit stop at the bathroom and attempted to smooth out my long tresses. Sleeping on wet hair had created movement and volume. Too much of both. I brushed my teeth, then packed everything away in my backpack. As I shouldered it, excitement at returning home steamed away the remnants of the sticky nightmare.

  I would see August and Evelyn and—

  My breaths spiked as I remembered last night’s conversation. In the light of day, being with the ex-marine didn’t seem as sinister. Just thinking of him had my navel pulsing, even though he was hundreds of miles away.

  I looked out the window at the long grass that shivered in a light breeze. What would you have done, Mom?

  I would ask Evelyn. If anyone was going to be a hundred percent unbiased about this, it would be her.

  When I left the bedroom, Liam was already gone, and so were his things. I walked to the dining hall, passing a couple Rivers on the way. They waved, and I waved back.

  Our allies . . .

  At least, the trip proved a success for the Boulder Pack.

  When I entered the gussied-up barn, I beelined straight for the head of the table where Zack sat surrounded by Liam, Ingrid, and Samuel.

  “Mornin’. How’d you sleep?” Zack asked as I took my seat next to Liam.

  “Great. Thank you. How’s Poppy?” I asked.

  “She’s recuperating with her mother. I reckon it’ll take both my girls a couple days to recover from the attack.” The crumbs of bread caught in his beard peppered the table as he spoke. “I was telling Liam ’bout the experiment Sam carried out last night—he mixed crushed Sillin into Ingrid’s body lotion and rubbed it into her skin, and then he shifted into fur and licked her arm.”

  I
grabbed a pitcher of orange juice and poured myself a glass.

  “He changed back into skin a couple minutes later.”

  “Which was what happened to Julian,” I said excitedly.

  “Except I didn’t throw up,” Sam said.

  Julian had thrown up. A lot.

  “And although Ingrid was able to shift into fur, she was incapable of keeping her form. When she tried to shift again an hour later, she wasn’t able to.”

  “I tried again this mornin’, and I still can’t shift,” Ingrid said. “So it does penetrate the bloodstream, and perhaps it’s still on my skin, but if Cassandra Morgan could shift from fur to skin and back to fur, then she didn’t slather herself in Sillin-lotion.”

  I wondered if we could trust their experimenting or if we should carry out our own.

  Ingrid pushed her thick, waist-length braid behind her shoulder. “I got an email from Avery this morning. He said he didn’t want to get involved, because he’s about to become a father and worries for the safety of his child and mate. He hopes you understand that it isn’t to spite you guys but to protect his loved ones. He wishes Liam luck, though. Says many, many Creeks are hoping for Liam to win.” She eyed her father. When he nodded, she added, “He did tell us one thing that might help. ’Parently, Morgan’s often bedridden. Word circulating around the Creek Pack is that she’s got a sensitive constitution.”

  Liam set his half-drunk glass of juice on the thick wooden table. “Werewolves can eat carrion without getting sick.”

  “Exactly,” Sam said, buttering a slice of sourdough. “We think it might be a symptom of whatever she’s doing to keep up her edge.”

  I rubbed the satiny finish of the wooden tabletop. “Would taking tiny doses of Sillin for years create a habituation? Meaning, could her body shift in spite of having a minimal amount of the drug in her system?”

  “I highly doubt it,” Sam said.

  “She doesn’t heal fast,” I interjected. “I forgot to mention that last night, but for a shifter, her wounds bleed longer than they should. You noticed that too, Liam, right?”

  “I did, but wounds caused by an Alpha take longer to heal, so I didn’t think it was particularly odd.”

  “Oh. I didn’t know that.” I bit my lip, feeling a little foolish, but then I thought of her lips, and the bluish tinge. “Does extended use of Sillin cause skin discoloration?”

  Sam frowned.

  “Her lips are a bit . . . blue.” I grabbed a berry muffin from the basket in front of me and bit into the cakey treat, the tart sweetness of the fruit bursting on my tongue.

  “They’ve always been like that,” Zack said. “It’s a birthmark or nevus or somethin’.”

  “Samuel, you mind if I put you in contact with our pack doctor? He’s not a shifter but has been taking care of the Boulders for years now. We trust him completely,” Liam said.

  “Sure. I’ll communicate my findings.”

  Liam stood up. “I need to get back to my wolves. Are you coming with us to the airport, Zack?”

  “No. I need to be with my little girl, but Ingrid and Sam will accompany you.”

  “And me!” came a chirpy voice: Jane’s. “Sorry I’m late. I was with Poppy.”

  “That’s all right, darlin’,” Zack said, getting up. He shook my hand. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ness. We wish you great strength for the coming duel.” Then he shook Liam’s. “We’ll be in touch. And don’t forget about . . .” He flicked his gaze toward Ingrid whose cheeks instantly turned crimson.

  “Dad,” she muttered.

  He gave her a wolfish grin before heading out of the dining hall, patting backs and leaning in to wish his shifters a good morning. From the laughter and smiles, I took it that Zack was a well-liked leader. Nostalgia for something I’d never had, a pack where everyone belonged, hit me square in the chest.

  Liam touched my forearm. “Let’s go.”

  Flanked by Zack’s kids, we left the compound.

  Liam sat up front with Sam, and I sat in the back with the sisters. While the men talked about setting up a lab to create a new type of Sillin, I zoned out.

  “Did he answer you?” Jane asked her sister at some point. Her voice was hushed, but the urgency made it carry to me.

  “He did.”

  “And?”

  Were they talking about August? He could really be anyone. I was just being paranoid.

  “I didn’t talk to him about that,” Ingrid murmured. “I just asked how he was doing and told him we might have a new project for him.”

  Jane giggled and chirped, “Project marry-Ingrid,” but then she blurted out, “Ouch. What was that for?”

  Ingrid must’ve made her reason clear with a look, because there was a long stretch of silence.

  “I bet Ness would love not being the only she-wolf in her pack,” Jane said. “Right, Ness?”

  I untaped my gaze from the landscape and turned to look at the two Burley sisters. I almost told them that August wasn’t on the market for a wife but bit my tongue. When their expectant gazes turned to frowns, I said, “It would be nice to have other females.”

  But not Ingrid.

  At least, not as August’s mate.

  There were about ten other eligible guys to pick from within the Boulder pack. “You should meet the other Boulder bachelors before you settle.”

  The back of Liam’s neck clenched. Of course he was listening.

  “I did meet the others at the pack summit,” Ingrid said. “They were . . . nice. But I can’t picture myself with any of them. August, though”—her dreamy expression made me want to stab her eyeballs with toothpicks—“I can totally picture myself with him.”

  Well, stop doing it. I jerked my gaze to the road before she could pick up on my rampant jealousy.

  If I wasn’t able to let him go when the mating link was absent, how was I supposed to let him go once the link clicked back into place?

  16

  The plane ride back was nerve-wracking. I spent most of it gouging new scratches into the poor leather armrest. Liam didn’t make me feel bad about the damage. He barely seemed to notice, contemplative as he was. He alternated between staring out the hatch window and studying his phone screen.

  I’d looked at mine and found a message from August that dated to the previous night: I wish you were sleeping next to me. The words created a resonating pang inside my chest that echoed in my heart.

  “What did you take away from our trip?” Liam asked, dragging me out of my reveries.

  “That I should start taking micro-doses of Sillin.”

  “What?” Clearly not what he was expecting.

  “Greg can figure out a dose that doesn’t affect me more than a couple hours at a time, right?”

  Liam’s lips thinned in disapproval. “Not you. I’ll get Matt or someone else—”

  “You’re paying me to help you, Liam. Let me be worth what you’re paying.”

  His nostrils flared a few times before he finally conceded. “Fine.” He bobbed his head. “Fine. What’s your height and weight?”

  “Five-seven. I haven’t weighed myself in months, though.”

  “Approximately? One-forty?” he asked, typing out an email.

  “Last time I checked, one-thirty.” I contemplated the cottony clouds fraying and assembling into new shapes outside the window. “You think Aidan Michaels can still shift? He must’ve taken more than Morgan to hide in plain sight.”

  Liam looked up from the screen, amber eyes shaded by a swooping curl of black hair.

  His cheek dimpled as though he were worrying the inside of it. “It’d be interesting to know.”

  “Maybe we can invite him for a run? Like a ceasefire before the war . . .”

  “Ceasefires happen after wars, Ness.”

  I wasn’t trying to be literal. “Like the calm before the storm then.”

  “Even though I’d rather fight another bear than extend an invitation to run with that man, you might be onto somethin
g.”

  After the flight attendant removed our empty glasses to prepare for landing, I asked, “I’ve been thinking a lot about something recently. Why didn’t you tell me your father wanted to kill mine?”

  Liam’s head jerked in surprise. Had he thought I wouldn’t pick at the scab? That I’d just let the truth of my father’s death slide into the tide of things past and unchangeable? “What made you think of that?”

  “Aidan.”

  He bobbed his head twice. Then, “Telling you meant confessing I knew your father was going to die . . . that I’d done nothing to stop it.”

  That he’d been all for it.

  “I didn’t know Callum well, Ness, but Mom used to say he was a good man. She would tell my father that she wished he would be more like yours.” He stopped talking and directed his gaze to the tiny rooftops and blue spots that were swimming pools gleaming below us. “You can imagine what that did to him.” He pressed his lips together for a long, long moment. “To me.”

  “I’m sorry you suffered because you didn’t have the right role model, Liam. I’m sorry Heath gave you all these inner demons. That he made you lose faith in people. But I’ve also seen what sort of man you can be when you fight those demons, and that’s the sort of man I want as my Alpha.”

  He swept his gaze back to me. “But only as your Alpha?”

  “Liam, you just want me”—my eyes drifted to his black V-neck that quivered with breaths—“because you can’t have me.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “I’m the girl who got away.”

  He crossed one ankle over his opposite knee. “You challenge me. You’re the only girl who’s ever dared challenge me. How am I supposed to become a better man if all I get are pats on the back and strokes to my ego?”

  I raised a small smile. “I don’t need to date you in order to challenge you.”

  “But it would make the challenges and criticism a lot more palatable,” he said, just as the wheels of the plane bumped into the tarmac.

  The lap belt dug into my waist, slamming my navel into my spine. “How about we try to be friends? According to Sarah, I’m pretty good at friendship.”