He drew in a quiet breath. “So fight to see your brother, and your new family. To see the moon hang with iridescent beauty in its fullness on a summer’s night; to run through the forest with freedom as you have never felt before; to exist without the awkward ties of society that will ultimately fail you. We will be your pack; your new family. We will love you and protect you, and you will have the strength to protect us as well. Never will you have to submit to anyone you do not choose.”
Aaron stopped to place his palm over her ear. He brought his lips to hers for a split second and said, “Fight to live again, Rachael.”
He could have cringed at his own words. It felt so awkward talking to someone who couldn’t respond, even if it was his girlfriend.
But then, having a girlfriend was a whole new experience. Aaron could walk through the steps laid out for him, but he didn’t know the first thing about putting a romantic partner first. Always the pack took precedence—always. This selfishness of his was foreign, and Aaron was already a selfish man. One couldn’t lead a pack without instilling his own values upon them.
A quiet sound made him shift. Aaron looked down at Rachael with a slight frown.
She sighed and mumbled, without opening her eyes, “Love you.”
Aaron couldn’t unstick his tongue. Instead he kissed her forehead and resumed cuddling her until Rachael’s breathing softened once more.
Ͼ
They fed him dog food. Nathan couldn’t think of anything more humiliating.
It didn’t matter if he was in his human form or not, he quickly realized. Often the one bringing him food was the teenager with the sharp eyes, and she always seemed to silently mock him when she approached. He was well-watered (another embarrassing term) and fed, but always with low-grade, gas-station quality dry dog food.
Nathan found it easy to hate his captors.
He remained in wolf form for comfort, but sometimes shifted back into a naked human just to flex his muscles. Never was the cage opened, nor was he transferred to more comfortable conditions.
Now he could easily understand some of what had driven Rachael to the brink of insanity. Nathan was not told how long he would be there, or what negotiations had been made—if any. He trusted his brother to come through for him, but suspected his captors didn’t want him to know. Aside from Vahn ordering him to speak to Aaron, their silence was as cold and hard as the concrete surrounding him.
Once Cindy brought him food, but this time she carried a fire poker. Nathan eyed her warily, but she just set down his food and water like nothing else was different. Then, humming, she backed off a few paces and scratched the ground with her iron toy. The sound set Nathan’s teeth on edge.
As he fought to bring the bland pellets into his mouth, Cindy kept glancing at him with open amusement. Then, softly, she began singing to herself. Nathan fought not to roll his eyes and focus on his meal.
A whisper was his only warning. He jumped back as far as he could into the cage, causing it to knock into the corner behind him. Resistance met from the front where his prison remained chained to the concrete.
Cindy laughed and waved the poker at him. “Good doggie,” she said in an unusually high-pitched voice, as though he were an infant. “Smart doggie.”
Nathan snarled.
“Don’t be like that, doggie,” she warned, though the smile never left her face. She nudged the food bowl and backed up again. “Go on, eat. I won’t do it again.”
He didn’t trust her. Nathan remained curled up as best he could into the cage, his teeth bared.
“Dumb dog,” Cindy muttered. She tossed the poker toward the door, where it clanged with grim possibility.
Nathan shook his head once and continued to glare.
A minute throbbed past to the beating of his anxious heart before Cindy sighed. “You’re so boring. Whatever.” She snatched up the food but left the water. On her way out she stooped to pick up the poker and swung it as she left. Her humming echoed between his ears in a sonic nightmare.
Still hungry but unwilling to beg, Nathan lowered himself to lie down again. That girl was crazy, he decided. And he’d do best to stay as far away from her as possible.
Good luck, he thought dispiritedly.
To his surprise, the door swung open again. Nathan growled but cut himself short when he realized it was the man: Vahn.
Vahn didn’t bring anything with him but a wild grin. “Good news, kiddo. We reached a deal yesterday, so you’ll be home free in six days.” He crouched before the cage, his elbows on his knees.
Nathan regarded him with disdain.
“It’s true,” insisted Vahn. “But I gotta admit, I thought he’d offer more for you. We asked for half a million bucks, Seritta, and Rudy. Easy, right?” His grin turned nasty. “How much do you think he thought you were worth in the end? Any guesses?”
No, thought Nathan. There was no price on life. This was just a tactic to upset him.
All the same, he didn’t want to hear the answer.
“Seritta and a quarter million,” bragged Vahn. “And not a penny more. Wouldn’t give up more money, wouldn’t give up the baby. What do you think? That he needs that money and the baby to start a new family with that delicious little blonde?”
Nathan growled.
His captor hardly seemed to notice. “I probably could have asked for other things, maybe even it out a little. Part of me wondered if he’d part with the girl for you, but I didn’t want to negotiate forever, you know? We got places to be.” He tilted his head. “Still, I’d hit it. She’s no Farrah Fawcett in her prime, but I’d do her.”
Snapping his teeth, Nathan lunged forward. The cage halted him in his tracks, but his message was clear: Shut up!
Vahn raised both eyebrows. “Man, we’re bros. Don’t take it so personally. Besides, she’s dickin’ your brother. Kinda gross for anyone to follow that.”
If he wasn’t trapped in a cage, Nathan would have ripped him to pieces there. From the look on Vahn’s face, he knew it. But rather than go into lewd detail as Nathan expected, the man sighed.
“Sucks, kiddo. I know. That’s kind of the worst part about lycan children.” Vahn shifted his weight to one leg. “They don’t grow up much mentally or physically, but you’re still capable of crushes and falling in love. But try explaining that to anyone not your size, y’know?” He shook his head, and Nathan could have sworn there was a hint of pity in his gaze. “But you’re better off not going for it if you want to keep your brother around. Infighting like that—it gets ugly, quick. Bad enough when it’s a stranger or your friend, but your brother?”
Nathan huffed and lowered his head, tilting it so he didn’t have to look at Vahn directly. But he still felt his heart grow heavier, as though one by one someone was pouring little lead balls into it.
He loved Aaron. Nobody had ever looked after him like his brother, not even after centuries of meeting new people. Roxi, or Beatrice, had toyed with him while her heart remained with her alpha unrequited. Holden had never really cared for him, and others had come and gone without the chance to form much of an attachment. Meanwhile, Aaron had always been there, loyal and fiercely protective.
Still, Nathan couldn’t help how he felt. And he felt Rachael was better off human. Maybe even without Aaron, who barely knew how to be human.
Vahn finally rose to his feet. “Anyway, I just wanted to update you. See you in a few days.” As he walked away, he called over his shoulder, “And don’t get any more funny ideas about attacking us, or I’ll muzzle you.”
Nathan sighed just as the light clicked off. He remained alone in utter blackness, both literally and in thought.
And he couldn’t help but wonder why Aaron had agreed to go with so little to get him back.
Chapter Eleven
While Aaron’s pack—plus human, though she might as well have been one of them—had remained on the Paradise compound long enough for Maryanne to recall their faces, some of the details were a bit blurry. For some o
dd reason Aaron’s pack had never bothered interacting with Olivia’s. Maryanne knew of Aaron quite well since he’d constantly spoken to her former alpha out in the open, but the others had remained in their tiny quarters like some creepy cult.
Eventually rumors began to spread. One of the more popular theories was that the human girl wasn’t completely sane, so she required round-the-clock supervision to keep from destroying everything in her path. The other prevailing conjecture was that Aaron truly did use betas, just like Holden, and he was a jealous alpha who preferred to keep them all to himself.
Maryanne wasn’t certain she believed either. While there could be a grain of truth to them, she was dreadfully familiar with Olivia’s penchant for wild stories. Much like the fire she so loved, the woman had a hard time keeping destruction from spreading in her wake.
It disgusted Maryanne to recall Olivia’s lunatic rantings of how Holden had burned her arms. None of it was true, of course. Holden had certainly humiliated her, but she had burned herself by screwing up a Molotov cocktail during a drunken screaming match with her brother that had ended in a house-fire.
In fact, when Holden and his tiny pack had originally arrived to their compound, Olivia had been in the middle of recovery with her twin Etan obsessively at her side.
Good riddance to both of them, she decided contemptuously. Etan had always been a pain in the ass; an overgrown toddler who was never held accountable for his actions. And while she could somewhat sympathize with Olivia’s very obvious mental illnesses, Maryanne was relieved she was now dead.
Besides, so far Holden was a perfectly capable alpha. If nothing else, he was far better than Olivia.
Maryanne glanced to her right as she heard footsteps entering the living room. She didn’t get up from her lounging position on the old, tan couch, but nodded to a grumbling Carly. “Afternoon, sleepy.”
“Sleepyhead,” mumbled Carly. She lifted Maryanne’s feet to sit beside her. Maryanne draped them over the younger woman’s lap once she settled, and Carly didn’t argue. “That’s the proper term.”
Maryanne shrugged.
Now comfortable, Carly squinted at the TV. “What are you even watching?”
“Dunno,” said Maryanne simply. Her voice was much quieter than the television’s blare, but thankfully that wasn’t an issue around other lycans. “Some teen drama. It’s not too bad.”
With a groan, Carly said, “Not werewolves. They’re always so dumb.”
“We’re biased,” pointed out Maryanne. “It’s a good thing humans are ignorant and make up their own stuff. Keeps them off our backs.”
“Still dumb.”
Maryanne sighed. She hated how both Carly and Owen scoffed at creative liberties. But, she decided as she shifted, at least Carly gave good foot rubs. Her friend was even doing it now, though she continued to give the flat-screen TV all her disdain with her eyes. Strawberry blonde hair fell around her in confused waves as though undecided whether to roll or curl.
Not minutes later Owen joined them. He took one glance at the show, shook his head, and then turned to the women. “C’mon, ladies, let’s get cleaned up,” he said briskly. “We’re going hunting.”
An odd choice, thought Maryanne. He was awfully dressed up for that. While they hadn’t come with much, Owen had been sure to bring his best outfit; a white T-shirt, covered by a pinstriped blue button-down with a weak collar, and jeans with only one hole in them. He’d even cleaned up his moustache.
“Now?” complained Carly. “Can’t we have a day off?”
Owen raised an eyebrow. “That laziness is why you’re fat, you know.”
Blue eyes narrowed, the gold speckles sparking dangerously. “Piss off.”
Maryanne sighed and removed her feet from Carly’s blessed hands. Owen could be such a brat. Who goes around ruining perfectly good foot massages? she wondered.
Instead she asked, “Who put you in charge?”
“Nobody,” declared Owen with pride. “It’s called taking initiative. And this next part is called delegating. Carly, get dressed. Maryanne, get your shoes and the car. We’re going on a wolf hunt!”
Carly rolled her eyes but returned toward the far hall where the bathrooms were. Uninterested in Owen’s petty games, Maryanne resumed her show. “It’ll be over in five minutes. I’ll go then.”
“It’s just some streaming channel,” scoffed Owen. “You can come back to it.”
“No. It’s cable,” stated Maryanne.
Owen wrinkled his nose. “That doesn’t sound very efficient.”
She cast him a sideways glare. “Since when did you care about that stuff?”
“Since I realized not every alpha has to be the shit-show Olivia was,” retorted Owen. “Besides, Holden did say we could do some tracking if we’re bored. Well, what else do you call a lazy day inside? That’s right: boredom. The epitome of it.”
“It’s called relaxing, actually,” she said.
Owen waved his hand. Despite his flippancy, his eyes lingered on the screen as one of the male leads removed his shirt and continued to ferociously make out with a girl who looked half his age. “Relax later. Seriously. Come on. Marya-a-anne.”
Ugh, she hated when he used his simpering voice. It grated right through the protective shields of her senses and made her feel like she’d rubbed sandpaper all over her eardrums. She glowered at him and stubbornly remained fixated on the hot and heavy scene playing before them.
“So,” said Owen once the image faded out and into the end credits. “You didn’t try making a move on our great new leader last night.”
She ignored the jab and stood, stretching her arms behind her head.
Owen continued. “I’m kind of surprised. Figured your opportunist ass would have gone for it. Or did he turn you down already?”
Maryanne rolled her eyes toward him. “Not that it’s your business,” she said quietly. “But I made the offer. He has yet to respond.”
“Yeah, well, good luck. Between his ex being a raging bitch and Laelia being... creepy, it looks like he has his hands full.”
A humorless smile stretched her lips. “Owen,” she said softly. “What’s your actual deal?”
He turned to her, his eyes wide but certainly not guileless. “Why, whatever do you mean?”
She just stared at him. Owen met her gaze, but his expression cracked a fraction, just enough for her to know she’d gotten to him. Maryanne already knew his dirty little secret, and why he was so eager to find Aaron’s pack.
Maybe nobody else had picked up on it. It was possible Owen was, in fact, a decent actor. But she saw through him like a cheap, tawdry piece of negligee.
Clearing his throat, Owen turned and said, “Since you’re being so stubborn, I’ll drive.”
Fine by her.
Once he was gone, Maryanne finally went to put on some sandals. She didn’t anticipate needing to run, and even if the need arose, her bare feet were more than adequate. Worst case scenario, she’d shift into her wolf form. Very few would mess with her then.
Aside from that, she felt comfortable in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. She’d chosen a pastel pink one with a pretty laced collar. Maryanne did pause to ensure her heat-treated curls were perfectly in place before she left her and Laelia’s shared room.
In short order the three were ready to go. Carly called shotgun, so Maryanne sat in the seat behind Owen. As they pulled out of their new driveway—having one was so nice, she thought, and it was such a small, insignificant luxury—Owen began chattering about what all 17 year-old boys did: sex.
“I think Holden is your type, Carly. Isn’t he, Maryanne?”
Maryanne sighed. “Types are for children, Owen. Which you will one day learn.”
Mutedly, Carly said, “I don’t think I’m his.”
Owen shrugged, scanning the roads as he drove closer to the thick of the city. “You never know. Laelia’s skinnier than a stripper’s pole, and Lacey’s busty. I bet he’s into chubby girls, too.”
Carly glared at him.
“Shut up, Owen,” said Maryanne tiredly. Even so her eyes were on the sidewalks as they passed stores, keeping an eye out for any glimpse of a familiar face. Hopefully not Aaron’s. That man was sharp, and if he caught them, then Holden was done for.
“I don’t get either of you,” he griped. “Carly’s a wimp and Maryanne’s into old dick.”
This time Maryanne said nothing. Instead, when she lunged forward and dug her nails into the soft, sensitive insides of Owen’s left ear, it was he who had to bite down on crying out.
Quietly, she said, “Shut. Up.”
Thankfully, he finally listened. Maryanne released him and he shook his head irritably.
They continued on in tense, uncomfortable silence until Owen grew bored and pulled over at a gas station. He parked at a free pump. Rather than buy gas, he strode toward the store.
Selfish, inconsiderate child, scoffed Maryanne inwardly.
“Asshole,” Carly spat once he was out of earshot. “He’s—he’s such a freak. Like, God, not everyone jerks off every day like you do, and God forbid we like any guy who isn’t buff or hairy!”
Maryanne sighed. “For all intents and purposes, he’s seventeen. He’s giddy and an idiot, but he’s not a freak.”
Carly seemed chagrined. She slunk down in her seat, the motion piling her hair up on her shoulders. “I know,” she mumbled. “But I wish he’d leave me alone sometimes.”
With a distracted shrug, Maryanne said, “He’s a teenager. Ergo, an idiot.”
They fell silent until Owen got back into the car. He carried a black plastic bag, and inside there was cold coffee for Maryanne and root beer for Carly. When the latter scowled at his peace offering, Owen said in an unusually mild tone, “For the record, I’m into bigger dudes. If you were a guy, I’d totally hit that. Hell, maybe even date it.”
Carly stared at him. Then, just like that, she smiled and accepted the drink. Maryanne shook her head and leaned back in her seat, content to sip at her sweetened coffee as the two fell into more friendly banter.
Pact of the Pack Page 11
