A Pack of Love and Hate

by Olivia Wildenstein

  “Okay.”

  “Not afraid of needles, are you?”

  “No.” Still, as he took my wrist in his dry hand and brought the syringe to the inside of my arm, I looked away.

  When the pointed tip slid beneath my skin, I cinched my eyes shut. The uncomfortable pinch soon subsided, and then it was done, and Greg said, “Call me if you notice any side effects. There shouldn’t be any, but just in case, you can reach me at any time, day or night.”

  I nodded and took the business card he extended my way.

  “I guess you won’t be needing a bandage,” he said.

  Sure enough, my skin had already patched up. Only a bead of blood remained. I swiped it away with my thumb. “Should I take the Sillin now or after my torture session?”

  “After,” Liam said, shrugging off his black hoodie. He wore nothing underneath. “Since we won’t have another opportunity to train in fur once you start taking those pills, we’re fighting as wolves today.”

  As Greg left, the heavy door clanging shut behind him, I looked around for a place to change. The loft space didn’t have locker rooms, but it did have a questionably clean bathroom stall.

  As I started toward it, Liam called me back. “Ness, you’ll be shifting out here. You need to get used to it.”

  I must have gone ghostly pale, because Lucas chuckled. “In the other packs, females and males shift together. Didn’t Sarah tell you?”

  “She did, but—”

  “I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable,” Liam added, hooking his thumbs in the elastic waistband of his sweatpants.

  “I promise that on the day of the duel, I’ll shed my clothes in front of everyone, but please don’t ask me to do it today.”

  My desperation must’ve rang out loud and clear, because he relented. I scurried into the bathroom that stank of dried piss, leaving the door ajar so I could get out after the change. I kicked off my sneakers, yanked off my leggings and exercise top, and piled everything neatly on the sink top even though it wasn’t much cleaner than the beige-tiled floor.

  Once I’d morphed, I padded out into the gym on four legs. Liam was already in fur, three full hands taller than I was. Only Lucas remained in skin. He was sitting on a bench, curling massive dumbbells.

  Justin’s the one you’re going to have to keep in your line of sight at all times, Liam said.

  My ears perked up. You think he’ll attack me?

  He’s not supposed to, but it’s Justin we’re talking about. He might attack you to distract me.

  But that wouldn’t be fair . . .

  If you’re expecting fairness, you signed up for the wrong duel.

  But am I not allowed to stop the duel if he doesn’t play by the rules?

  By the time you manage to stop the duel, it might be too late.

  What do you mean too late?

  Cassandra will have delivered a blow I won’t be able to recover from.

  The skin beneath my fur broke out in goose bumps. How do I stop the fight?

  You’d need to howl three times.

  Liam, when we’re out there, don’t watch my back, okay? I can take care of myself.

  He looked at me long and hard. You’re risking your life for mine, so don’t think for a single moment that I’ll let you out of my sight.

  Liam—

  He cut my whine off with a sharp bark that made my muscles jam together.

  We’re going to work on your defensive game. I’m going to come at you from all angles, and you’re going to have to get away. It’ll teach you to think fast and act faster. Ready?

  I said yes, but that was before I got my ass handed to me. If I’d known I would be trampled and shoved and flattened against the jockstrap-smelling mats, I probably would’ve said no.

  Then again, I didn’t want Liam to take it easy on me, because leniency wouldn’t serve me.

  Two hours later, pancaked against the gym floor, Liam took pity on me and called it a day. Before leaving, I swallowed my first dose of Sillin, then entered a daily reminder into my phone.

  “Dinner tomorrow night at Tracy’s?” Liam asked just before I pushed through the doors.

  Lucas looked at Liam, then at me.

  Before the invitation was misconstrued as a date, I said, “Can I invite Sarah?”

  “I’m not sure that’s a great idea.”

  “She’s not spying on us, Liam.”

  “That’s not why. I just think it’s not a great idea for her. I’m not sure the Creeks would appreciate one of theirs sitting at a table of Boulders.”

  “She’s not a Creek.”

  Liam’s jaw twitched. “At the present moment, she is.”

  “So, is that a no?” I asked.

  He dragged his hand through his damp hair. “Fine. Bring her along.” He looked over his shoulder at Lucas. “Free for dinner tomorrow night, Lucas?”

  Lucas’s frown grew. “Why are we all going to dinner?”

  “Why, to bond obviously.” I shot Lucas a taunting smile. “The paintball arena was already booked.”

  A corner of his lips sloped up. “I knew you’d enjoyed that activity.”

  “Yeah. Top ten best moments of my life.”

  That earned me a grin from Liam and a chuckle from Lucas.

  “Who else will be at this dinner?” Lucas asked.

  “Matt and Amanda.” Liam turned back toward me, the smile gone from his lips. “Did you want to bring anyone besides Sarah?”

  What he was really asking me was if I planned on inviting August. “No.”

  Liam’s umber eyes glittered like topaz in the sunlight streaming through the loft windows set high enough that no one could look into the gym, a good thing considering our morning activity.

  Not August? he asked through the mind-link.

  Before he could get his hopes up, I said, “He’s busy. Anyway, I need to go. Tomorrow, I’m running with Matt at six-thirty and then?”

  “That’s it for tomorrow. Wouldn’t want to tire you too much before our big night out.”

  Snorting, I waved and unbolted the heavy doors. Before heading to my car, I made a pit stop at the drug store on the corner. I grabbed a basket and went aisle to aisle, tossing in energy bars and ultra-moisturizing conditioners and lotions, because my skin and hair felt brittle from all my shifting. As I turned a corner, I bumped into someone I hadn’t seen in a long time.

  Tamara let out a little oomph, and what she clutched fell on the ground. I crouched and picked it up. She snatched it from me, her cheeks going as red as her hair.

  “It’s not for me,” she said.

  I sniffed the air, remembering Sarah telling me shifters could scent pregnancies. My sense of smell was definitely not as sharp as Sarah’s or Lucas’s, and would probably dull further because of my Sillin intake, but over Tamara’s flowery scent, I smelled something else—loamy earth. Since I wasn’t standing in the gardening aisle of Home Depot, I assumed she was giving off that scent.

  And there was this tiny fluttering vibration in the air between us.

  A heartbeat?

  Tamara was halfway down the aisle before I said, “It’s going to be positive.”

  She froze and then slowly spun around, green feline eyes narrowing. “I told you, it’s not for me.”

  As she whirled back around, wavy hair bouncing against her shoulders, the enormity of her news hit me. Even though I could be wrong—but I doubted it—Tamara was carrying a werewolf baby.

  Liam’s.

  20

  After showering, I met Evelyn at The Silver Bowl where she was interviewing for the position of head cook. The establishment was extremely fancy, which intimidated Evelyn. Before she could choke herself from tightening the red silk scarf tied around her neck, I grabbed both her hands and towed them off the scarf Mom left her in the will she’d scrawled on a legal pad.

  “You do realize you already have the job, don’t you?”

  “If I had the job, I would not be passing an interview.”

 
I smiled. “This isn’t an interview. It’s a meeting to discuss your salary and hours.”

  “I should have made them my polvorones,” she said, completely disregarding my comment. “Or my taquitos.”

  I squeezed her hands. “You don’t need to woo them. They need to woo you.”

  Her black eyes bolted to mine. “Bueno.”

  Feeling her composure strengthening, I let go of her hands. “Want me to come inside with you?”

  “No. I will be all right.”

  “Te quiero, Evelyn.” I rarely spoke Spanish but understood it perfectly.

  Her eyes got all misty.

  “Go.” I tipped my head to the restaurant. “I’ll wait out here.”

  As she hobbled to the door, dragging her bad leg, she checked over her shoulder a few times as though to make sure I was really staying put. And I’d planned to, but when fifteen minutes had gone by and the scent of charred coffee beans and chilled milk ribboned toward me, I headed toward the coffee house next door.

  As I waited in line for my order, I kept my gaze on the entrance of the restaurant. Which was probably the reason I didn’t see August until he stepped right into my line of vision.

  “Hey.”

  I tipped my head up, my heart whipping into gear. “Hi.”

  His gaze was soft and bright, devoid of the darkness and tension from two nights ago. For some reason, that stumped me. Not that August needed to pine for me or harbor resentment, but he seemed almost . . . happy to see me. I mean, I was happy to see him too, but if the tables were turned and he’d done the breaking up, I’d probably not have been all too glad to run into him.

  Which highlighted my lack of maturity.

  Which highlighted his surplus of it.

  His lips moved, and I’m pretty sure he uttered words, but I was so lost in thought I failed to hear them.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I was asking what you were doing?”

  “Oh. Uh.”

  The barista called out my name.

  “Buying coffee,” I finally answered.

  He smiled, and I swear it dimmed the noise level around me. “I can see you’re buying coffee. I guess I was wondering why you were in this neighborhood.”

  “Oh.” I really had a way with words today. “Um. I was—Shoot!” I peeked around him just as the door to the restaurant opened and Evelyn limped out.

  Shoot. Shoot. Shoot.

  Not only was I not where I promised I would be, but I was with August. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

  “Okay.” He frowned. “See you around, Dimples.”

  The fact that he was calling me Dimples again made me feel like he didn’t detest me.

  Right before pushing my back into the door of the shop, I asked him, “By the way, could I borrow some equipment from the warehouse? I wanted to sand down the floors of my old house.”

  He shook his head a little. “I’m offended you feel the need to ask me whether you can borrow stuff from me. What’s mine is yours.”

  What was his wasn’t mine, even if once upon a time, it had been my father’s.

  “I’m headed back to the warehouse after I deliver coffee to the crew. Stop by whenever you want,” he said.

  “Thanks?” I didn’t mean for it come out as a question, but his genial attitude stumped me. Had he already gotten over me?

  I turned away before he could spot my anguish and joined Evelyn on the sidewalk where she was chatting with a man who looked to be around Jeb’s age. I pasted on my widest smile as I approached them.

  “Sorry. Just went to grab us some coffees.” I extended her cup, then shot out my hand to the man and smiled. “Hi, I’m Ness. Evelyn’s granddaughter.”

  I didn’t usually introduce myself this way, but seeing the breadth of Evelyn’s smile, I decided I should start doing it more often.

  “Nice to meet you, Ness. I’m Trent.” His grip was firm and his expression friendly. “Grams told me we have you to thank for getting in touch with Evelyn,” he said, letting go of my hand.

  “Glad to have been at the right place at the right time. Is your wife feeling better?”

  “She’s feeling fine, thank you for asking. Anyway, I should get back to my accounting. I’ll see you tomorrow, Evelyn.”

  “Sí. Tomorrow.”

  After Trent was gone, I squealed and hugged her. “Told you so.”

  She ran her enlarged knuckle down my cheek. “Mi nieta.” My granddaughter.

  “You think your nieta can get a free meal in your new restaurant?”

  She smiled, but then her tender expression warped as her eyes settled on a spot over my shoulder.

  “Hi, Mrs. Lopez.” August was carrying two cardboard trays filled with iced beverages. “You’re looking mighty lovely this morning.”

  “August.” As she said his name—none too congenially—her gaze traveled to me.

  She probably assumed I’d rendezvoused with him in the coffee house, disregarding her advice.

  “I should get this to my guys. Have a pleasant afternoon, ladies.”

  Thankfully he didn’t say, see you later, Ness. If he had, Evelyn wouldn’t have believed our run-in had been random.

  After he got into his car, I whispered, “Before you jump to any conclusions, there’s nothing going on between us.”

  She took a sip of her milky beverage, wrinkles deepening around her eyes.

  “You believe me, right?”

  “I believe you.” She offered me her arm. “Now come and walk with me. It is so beautiful out.”

  I hooked my arm through hers and, chatting about her new job, we walked slowly down the street, bypassing the playground where my parents used to bring me. I told her stories of Dad, whom she’d never gotten to meet, and life in Boulder before I was uprooted. August came up in many of my stories, which earned me repeated chary glances.

  “He was a big part of my life,” I said as we took a seat on a bench shaded by a glossy-leafed magnolia.

  “Did he . . . ever behave indecently?”

  Horror had me gasping, “No! Never.”

  She folded one leg over the other and massaged her bad calf—the one her ex-husband had put a bullet through.

  Just as I thought of Aidan Michaels, a yellow Hummer drove down the street. I didn’t have to squint through the tinted window at the boy sitting behind the wheel to grasp whom the car belonged to: Alex Morgan. Another detestable Creek.

  A violent desire to slash his tires, and his chest while I was at it, animated me. I balled my fingers into fists.

  As though he sensed my glare, Alex turned his face toward me. He had the audacity to toss me a wink before taking off, tires screeching.

  “Who was that, querida?”

  Evelyn’s voice zapped me out of my violent musings. “A Creek.”

  She wrapped her fingers around my fists, easing my hands open. “And what has he done to make you abhor him so? Besides being a Creek.”

  “He’s the reason Everest is dead.”

  A long beat of silence passed between us.

  Then, “Have many Creeks remained in Boulder?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because of the—” I smacked my lips shut. Had I really been about to tell her about the duel? She absolutely couldn’t know about it. She’d kidnap me and fly me out of Colorado. “Because of the inn. Because Aidan bought it, and Aidan’s a Creek. So they feel at home here.”

  Nothing worked quite as well as burying a big truth under a smaller one.

  She tapped my knuckles with her fingers. “El diablo.”

  Another reason I needed to help Liam win this duel . . . so that nothing and no one stood in my way to send the devil to Hell.

  21

  After dropping Evelyn off at Frank’s, I drove over to the warehouse. I called Sarah on the way. I preluded my invitation to dine with a bunch of Boulders with a, “Are you busy tomorrow night?”

  “You mean, am I deejaying at The Den?”

&nb
sp; Right. It was Thursday night. “I meant earlier, for dinner.”

  “I’m free for dinner, and even afterward. I’m taking some time off deejaying.”

  I didn’t ask why, but I suspected it was because she was still grieving for her uncle and for her pack’s annexation.

  “Meet me at Tracy’s at eight?”

  “Is it just the two of us?”

  “Um. No.”

  “Who else will be there?”

  “Some people.”

  “Which people?”

  “Um. Liam, Lucas, Matt and his girlfriend.”

  Would Tamara come? If she did, the guys would surely pick up on her pregnancy . . . How would Liam react?

  “Why are you having dinner with all these people?” Sarah asked.

  “We. You said you were free.”

  “Not sure if I am anymore.”

  “Please.”

  “What about August? Is he coming?”

  I sighed. “What are you doing tonight, actually?”

  “Hanging out with you to find out what the heck’s going on in your life. Plus, I’m dying to know how your weekend went.”

  As I made plans to head to her place later, the warehouse materialized like an oasis, which made my pulse skip. I parked the van next to August’s pickup, then made my way toward the wide-open loading dock. As I approached, the tether solidified like concrete. Standing beside Uncle Tom at one of the worktables, August looked up at me.

  I tried to smile, but I was so jittery the simple process proved tremendously arduous. When I was close enough, I said, “Hi, Uncle Tom.”

  “Ness!” Tom grinned wide, which made his purplish-red cheeks rise and round, and the faint scent of cold whiskey clout my nose.

  It was just after lunch, and yet he was hitting the bottle? I knew he needed the job, but I hoped August was monitoring him so he didn’t hurt himself—or anyone else for that matter.

  “We miss you around here!” Uncle Tom’s strident voice made me glance worriedly at August.

  “I miss it here too.” And I did, even though the warehouse brought me equal parts pain and pleasure.

  Pain, because it reminded me of Dad.

  Pleasure, because it reminded me of Dad.