A Pack of Love and Hate

by Olivia Wildenstein

  A smile touched his mouth that smelled like a mix of him and me. “I did.”

  “Can I hear it?”

  “You can.” He nosed my jaw.

  When he didn’t say anything more for a prolonged stretch of time, I asked, “Tonight?”

  He lifted his head, tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, and then in that raw-honeyed voice of his, he said, “I may not have been your first choice for a mate, but I hope I’ll be your last.”

  Emotion gripped my throat so hard I couldn’t respond with words, so instead, I picked my neck off the couch pillow and aligned my lips and heartbeats with his.

  38

  I woke up to the scent of coffee.

  As I stretched, every second of our love-making replayed in my mind. I twisted around, but August was no longer on the couch next to me. Last night, he removed the back pillows to make room for our two bodies, and then he dragged me against his chest, and we fell asleep skin to skin.

  “August?” I called out.

  When he didn’t answer me, I sat up but regretted the sudden movement that awakened a dull throbbing between my legs.

  Pale sunlight fanned over the loft, tinting everything lavender and gray.

  “August?” I repeated, my throat feeling as raw as the rest of me. Had he left for Tennessee?

  I pushed my senses out, trying to pick up on another heartbeat, but only mine resounded.

  He left.

  He’d gone and left, and he hadn’t even woken me to say goodbye. The most overwhelming devastation crushed my lungs, made it impossible to breathe. Hands shaking, I took the cover and wrapped it around myself, then struggled to a standing position that intensified the throbbing.

  The front door snicked open, and my heart all but short-circuited.

  I clutched the cover tighter.

  August walked in, a brown paper bag dangling from his fingers. When he caught sight of my expression, he kicked the door shut, tossed the paper bag on the kitchen island, and rushed over. “What is it?”

  My bottom lip wobbled. “I thought you . . . I thought you’d left.”

  His forehead puckered, but then he smiled, cupped both my cheeks, and tipped my face up. “Just to get breakfast.”

  When had I become this needy girl ready to cry for having been left alone? I averted my gaze from his. “I feel so stupid right now.”

  “Why?”

  “For flipping out.”

  “I like that you flipped out.” He pushed a lock of tangled hair off my face. “I was worried you might have regrets and run away from me again.”

  I looked up at him. “Run away? It was the best night of my life.”

  His hazel eyes blazed. “That’s a dangerous thing to say.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to hear you say that every morning you wake up”—his hands settled on the base of my spine and pressed me against him—“which means I’ll have to outdo myself each and every night.” He bumped his nose into mine.

  My pulse fluttered against my neck and then lower, until it had all but soothed the shallow ache and replaced it with fierce want.

  “I’m on board with that,” I murmured.

  His eyes twinkled a tad wickedly. “On a scale of one to ten, how much pain are you in right now?”

  “Pain?”

  “Down there.”

  “Not much.”

  “Not much isn’t a number.”

  “Two.”

  His brows slanted. “Really?”

  “Okay, maybe three. And a half.” My body was supposed to heal fast. Why was I even still in pain?

  Yes, he was big, but—

  “When you get to zero, you let me know.” And then he walked back to the kitchen, pulled a bread basket from a cupboard, and poured out the flaky pastries that smelled like warmed butter and spicy cinnamon. My stomach clenched and let out an embarrassingly loud rumble.

  “Someone’s hungry,” he said, smiling.

  “Ravenous.” Still mummified in the cover, I shuffled over to the island. “Aren’t you?”

  He ran his palm over the wood that had absorbed the waves of my pleasure. “Oh, I’m starving.”

  Sandwiching my face between two hot irons would probably have scorched my cheeks less.

  “Did I just make you blush?” he asked, smirking.

  I broke off a piece from the cinnamon roll and lobbed it at him.

  “How very mature, Dimples. I thought you were a real woman, now.”

  “Shut up,” I muttered, breaking off another piece of the sweet pastry, but this time to eat it.

  August came around the island and sat on the stool beside mine. Still laughing, he leaned over and kissed me. It started out as a peck but escalated quickly.

  “Two,” I whispered against his mouth.

  “What?” he asked, voice all raspy.

  “On a scale of one to ten, I’m down to a two. Kiss me again, and I might get to zero faster.”

  He sucked in a ragged breath before clearing his throat. “Your body needs to heal.”

  “My body needs yours.”

  “It’s all yours.”

  “But you’re leaving in a couple hours.”

  His eyes, which encompassed every color of the forest beyond these walls, turned very serious. “Ness, I’m not going anywhere.”

  “You canceled your trip?”

  “Dad’s gonna go.”

  The silliest relief filled me. Even though I’d rather have gnawed off my own leg than let him go into River territory, I said, “If you need to go with him, you can.”

  “The only place I need to be is here with you.”

  And here I’d up and gone on my trip without considering how my absence would make him feel. “I don’t deserve you.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  My eyes heated. Oh my God, was I about to cry? Again? What was wrong with me? Was I getting my period?

  “Hey, hey, hey.” He kissed my lids.

  “I don’t know what’s happening to me,” I whispered. “I’ve never been like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “So needy.”

  He stroked the edge of my face.

  Had we somehow consolidated the bond, and now I couldn’t physically be away from him? “You think the condom broke?” It would explain—

  “The condom didn’t break.”

  Then how come I felt like I couldn’t breathe if he wasn’t around?

  How come I wanted to duct-tape my body to his?

  “You look a little pale,” he said.

  I lifted my hair and twisted it into a rope. “However clingy I get, don’t run from me, okay?”

  He leaned over again and gripped the back of my neck. “Why would I run from the one thing I want?”

  As he kissed me, the tether between us solidified into a thick and shiny rope, which I itched to pluck but still feared to touch. In the end, I set the temptation aside for another time, a time when August would be so certain of my feelings for him that he wouldn’t worry if I couldn’t move his body with my mind.

  39

  I was glad it was Saturday. At least none of August’s employees would witness my walk of shame.

  August flicked his gaze toward me as we ambled hand-in-hand toward my car. “I know some very capable house painters who work weekends.”

  I powered open my car doors. “I’m sure you do.”

  “Let me call—”

  I kissed his still moving mouth, then pulled away and said, “I like painting walls.”

  “If memory serves me, you also like what I did to you last night . . .”

  Heat smacked my cheeks. “I did also like that.”

  “And swimming in lakes.” He gestured to the sky. “I mean, look at this weather. It’s perfect for what I had planned.”

  Maybe I could let Jeb—No. I needed to help out. Especially if we wanted to move in tomorrow.

  “You know what I also really like?” I asked. “Sunset swims. Less people around.
”

  His eyes flashed. “You make a convincing argument. What time should I pick you up?”

  “Six. At the apartment, so I have time to change.”

  He looked up at the sky before returning his gaze to my face. “That’s in too many hours.”

  I smiled. “Want to bring us lunch?”

  His lips curved. “I can most definitely do that.” As he leaned in for a kiss, my phone vibrated inside my bag. I disregarded the call, giving August’s addictive mouth my full attention.

  A while later, he drew open my car door, and I settled behind the wheel. And then he backed away and watched me leave, the rope between us stretching like spun sugar. At a traffic light, I dug my phone out of my bag to call Sarah, but then remembered I couldn’t make contact with her.

  My disappointment was quickly superseded by apprehension when I noticed Liam’s three missed calls.

  Bracing myself, I dialed him back.

  It was Lucas who answered. “We’re waiting for you in the gym.”

  “I thought you said I had the day off.”

  He sighed, then dropped his voice, “Just get here quick, Clark.”

  “Did the Creeks—”

  “Not over the phone.”

  “Okay. I’ll be there in twenty.” Pulse skittering like claws on pavement, I tightened my grip on the steering wheel and tore down the streets toward my apartment.

  Showered and changed, I banged on the gym doors. I hadn’t been convened to train, so I’d donned a plain crop top and a pair of overalls I’d purchased to work on the house. A small part of me was hoping the burned-plastic smell of the paint primer dappling the denim would conceal August’s scent.

  But I quieted that small part of me.

  I wasn’t here to hide what I’d done; I was here to defend my actions. If this meeting was even about August.

  Lucas opened the door, and I strode in, muttering a quick hello, but then I did a doubletake when I caught sight of a bruise purpling his jaw.

  “What happened to your face?” I asked. “Did you get in a fight?”

  His blue eyes shone like lapis. “No. I walked into Alex Morgan’s fist for the fun of it.”

  I stiffened. “Alex Morgan?” My gaze jumped to Liam to see if he, too, had gotten hit. His face was shiny with sweat but unblemished.

  As he set down the weights he’d been curling, he speared me with a look that had my heart banging harder. “Thanks to your little message, the Creeks followed Lucas and Matt to where we’d stashed the Sillin, and ambushed them.”

  I gasped. “Ambushed?”

  “It was a fucking set-up, Ness! They had no clue where we’d hidden it,” Lucas hissed.

  “Sarah sent you the message, didn’t she?” Liam asked.

  My lips trembled too hard to answer.

  He rose from the weight bench and strode over to me, his gait so brutal I took a step back. “I told you she was using us, and you didn’t listen.”

  “Sarah wouldn’t have done that . . .” I whispered.

  “How can you still defend her?” Liam hollered.

  I pressed my palms against my ears. “I can hear you fine. Don’t shout.”

  “You didn’t hear me fine the first time I said it. Maybe this time, if I say it loud enough, you’ll listen!” Spittle smacked my nose.

  I gritted my teeth. “Stop it, Liam!”

  Would Sarah have set me up to gain the Creeks’ trust? I couldn’t imagine her doing such a thing.

  I prayed she hadn’t.

  “I trust Sarah. She wouldn’t have betrayed us, not willingly anyway. Maybe they set her up. Maybe—”

  Liam’s eyes flashed like hammered copper. “Funny you should mention trust.”

  I sucked in a breath. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You broke your promise.” His voice was chillingly flat, but his expression wasn’t. His expression was a medley of sharp angles. “I can smell him all over you.”

  My lungs contracted, but then I crossed my arms. “Don’t you think we have more important—”

  “We had a deal,” he snapped.

  “That deal went both ways.” Underneath the hot musk and fresh mint of Liam lay another scent, a feminine one. “I’m not the only one who spent the night with someone, so don’t you dare tell me off. You don’t get to tell me off!”

  His Adam’s apple jostled in his throat. He hadn’t shaved in days, which made him look older, more severe.

  “How’s Matt?” I asked, his wellbeing mattering more than this stupid feud over who we’d spent our night with.

  “What?” Liam blinked.

  I turned toward Lucas. “How is he? Did he also get banged up?”

  “He looks better than I do. Fucking Alex Morgan. I was this close”—his index finger hovered a breath away from his thumb—“to killing him. This. Close.”

  “I’m really sorry you guys got jumped,” I said, “but I stand by my conviction. Sarah cozied up to Alex Morgan to get us information. Not to give them any.”

  Lucas narrowed his eyes at first, but then he shook his head, tossing his shaggy black hair. “I don’t buy that, Clark. She’s a Creek through and through.”

  Tension whirred as loud as the AC vents blowing cold air into the high-ceilinged room. It was interrupted by the ringing of a cell phone.

  Lucas pulled it out of the pocket of his black mesh shorts. “It’s Frank.”

  “Pick it up,” Liam said, “and tell him what happened.”

  “He probably wants to speak with y—”

  “Just take the call, Lucas. And tell him I’ll call him back when I’m done here.”

  Meaning, when he was done hauling me over the coals.

  Once Lucas had walked to the other end of the gym, busy recounting the Creeks’ trap, Liam said, “You didn’t tell me the Watts would be at your birthday dinner.”

  “Why are we still talking about that, Liam? And how do you know?”

  “After Lucas and Matt got jumped, you weren’t answering your phone, so I tracked you through the blood-link to tell you what happened. Led me straight to that fancy restaurant.”

  “I didn’t see you,” I said.

  “I didn’t go inside. I thought better of interrupting your cozy celebration.” After a beat, he added, “You’ve found another family, and there’s no place in it for me.”

  And here I thought he was about to admonish me again. My throat squeezed tight.

  “I hate how it ended, Ness. I hate that August came back. I hate that you and him have all this history. I hate that whatever fucking God up there decided to link the two of you! Why not us? Why the hell not us?” he whispered hoarsely.

  After the heat of his anger, Liam’s anguished outburst softened my stance. “I didn’t choose him because of a magical link.”

  “You chose him because I failed you.”

  Like my throat, my heart tightened. “Your distrust broke me . . . broke us . . . but it didn’t drive me into someone else’s arms.”

  “Then what did?”

  “When you slept with Tamara—”

  “It was a mistake.”

  “Don’t say that,” I said gently but firmly. “She’s the mother of your baby, Liam. Besides, she’s not a random girl you picked up in a club. You guys have history, just like August and me.”

  Pain crinkled Liam’s face. “If I could go back—”

  “But you can’t.” A beat of silence filled the cavernous space, disrupted only by Lucas’s animated conversation. “We have to learn to live with our choices. And in the end, even if your intention was to test my affection, maybe what happened is a blessing in disguise. You’re an Alpha, Liam. An Alpha with a strong, strong personality.” I made my tone light to sweeten my assertion. “You need a woman who’s willing to bend without breaking. I’m not that woman. When someone bends me too hard, I splinter.”

  He snorted. “You obviously haven’t spent much time with Tamara. She’s not submissive.”

  I smiled. “Perhaps not,
but from what I’ve seen, she worships you.”

  He loosed a ragged sigh. “The night I found out, I lost it. I asked her if she’d done it on purpose. To trap me.”

  “Liam!”

  “I know. Not my finest hour, but I was scared, Ness. A baby? Do you see me with a baby? I can barely take care of a pack of grown men. And a woman.” He added that last part with a wry smile that dismantled some more of the tension between us. “Know what she said? She said that if I didn’t want the baby, then she would raise him on her own, that she wouldn’t even ask me for handouts, that she wouldn’t ask me for anything until our son reached puberty and would need to be brought into the pack. And even then, she would turn to Matt or someone else if I didn’t want to be involved.” He shook his head. “Can you imagine that she thought I’d want nothing to do with my own son?”

  “I don’t think she thought you wanted nothing to do with your son. I think she was giving you a way out.” Cornering a man, who was part wild animal, was never a good idea, and Tamara knew this. “Which leads me to think she’ll make a good mother.”

  “I know.”

  “And you’ll make a good father.”

  He let out a brusque exhale. “I’m not so sure about that.”

  “Well, I’m sure for the both of us. You’re protective and generous, but you do have to work on your fuse. It’s a little short.”

  A streak of sunlight cut across his face, illuminating his brown eyes, making them glow more amber than brown. “I can’t believe we just had a heart-to-heart.”

  “That’s what friends do,” I said.

  “Is that what we are?”

  “I think we’re getting there.” My lips flexed into a smile that he returned. “You’re not going to phone up Cassandra and schedule the duel for tomorrow, are you?”

  “I’m not.”

  “Good. Now about that Sillin. They took their stock. But we still have ours, right?”

  His features hardened again. “We stored it in the same place.”

  “Shit.” The word popped out of my mouth.

  “Yeah.” He stabbed his fingers through his hair. “Not my brightest decision.”

  “Well, I still have some.” In truth, I hadn’t checked, but since I hadn’t spotted any breaking-and-entering, I assumed as much. “Thirty-two pills.”