I look at his neck. The claimed mark has faded away, as if his mate never existed. It must be sad for the living to slowly watch the mark fade away…nothing they can do about it but watch. It allows them to be claimed by someone else when enough time has passed.
“I should be going.” Standing, I say goodbye to the brothers, who all bow slightly in respect. The Luna embraces me again.
“Anytime you want into our pack, all you have to do is show up and we will take you in.” She really means what she’s saying.
“I would start a war,” I say sadly.
“Wars have been fought for much less. If my son wants this, the whole pack will stand behind him.” Her teeth flash her white of war.
“I’ll walk you out.” His hand is on my back, very close to the curve of my ass.
When we reach my car, we pause. I lean against it, facing him. “Thank you for coming and meeting my family. Next is my father, but we have to go to my pack for that.” His head dips low, and he kisses me.
“Why didn’t you tell me you’re a future Alpha?” I still feel slightly betrayed that he held this information from me.
“I didn’t think it was important until now. I don’t like to advertise this too much, especially when I had no intention of taking my birthright. Forgive me. I won’t keep anything like this from you again, okay?”
I nod my head. “Okay,” I say quietly.
He closes the door with a small wave.
It’s not a very long drive back. I get out of the car, and my nose curls up with the smell of a wolf claiming territory. The smell is ammonia strong, pungent, making my eyes water. Quickly looking around, I search for him among the trees.
My door has long scratch marks gouged into the wood. I see a tree to the side of me down. Another one is toppled onto my garden, which lays barren now.
“I just want to talk to you.” His voice scares me, prickling down my spine. He’s holding himself against a tree, claws dug in as anchors.
“Let me just talk to you, Rya.” He growls out my name, jaw clenching. His body looks like it’s dueling with itself. Snarling fangs poke out of gums. A tendon snaps bone, only to realign again.
“I don’t want to talk. You’ve said more than enough to last me a lifetime.” I try to get my keys out. My hands are shaking. One clawed hand unhooks itself from the tree, deep heavy growls vibrating into me. My wolf rises up inside me. Blood…she wants the blood from his throat.
I scream slightly with the pain of nails that push from my skin. His other hand just swipes away the thick chunk of wood like it’s nothing, and the tree topples with a groan and creak.
His step is awkward as a hip tries to shift into his fighting form. Scalpel blades feel like they are pushing themselves through my nail beds. I’m sweating from the pain, and I almost retch my dinner up beside my door.
He’s so close now his breath hits my face. My body pulses with a life of its own…an arch of electricity from him to me joins us. His nose goes into my neck, inhaling. His teeth have descended. His fist hits my door, shaking the foundation of the building. I can’t breathe.
He gives me a full-grown male wolf growl, ringing my ears deaf from the noise. With another inhale of my scent, he presses himself against me. His hand takes my extended claws in his, easily pinning my arms above my head. His eyes are no longer green but that of a wolf who is going to do what he has always wanted to do.
His other hand turns my neck to the side, while his chest presses into me. A tongue slides out, tasting a mate’s flesh for the first time. He groans, shaking his whole body. I try to break his hold, but it’s impossible. I can’t even kick hard enough to have him feel it. They will leave bruises, but right now he doesn’t notice it.
“Clayton, what are you doing?” Kennedy’s voice, full of pain, hits his back like darts.
I look at her. It’s as if a wife just caught her husband cheating on her. She looks the way I looked when he chose her over me.
Chapter 13
Love Mark
Mother Earth hears her cries. Her tears start to wet the dirt. The moon is shining down on them, her light giving a spotlight show.
“Why?” Her voice sounds fragile. Her heart must be causing her pain because she’s clutching at her chest. Isn’t love supposed to bring you pleasure?
His wolf is still half out, smelling my neck as his skin side tries to pull his head away. The wolf snaps its jaws toward Kennedy; the loud click of teeth can’t be missed. He does this again, snapping its jaw. Violent waves spasm his skin from the inside, ripping the flesh. He’s back at my neck, smelling, licking flesh. A heartbreaking whimper pours out his throat. His forehead touches mine. The wolf’s eyes meet mine and hold. His nose is touching, nudging into me. Another raw whimper hits my ears.
The wolf does not look away. The both of us are very still now. His half-clawed hand brushes against my cheek, sniffing inside my mouth. A tear—a stray, lonely tear—starts its descent downward. Its path is blocked by whiskers trying to poke through clean flesh. Another whimper from the fur side calls to my soul, as if he’s in agony.
The wolf starts to cry its song out for the moon to hear, a begging, a pleading.
His nature is only wanting to breathe me in. Writhing, twisting on himself, he uses my body to hold himself up as bones break, muscles tear, only to try to go back again. Groans tumble out his mouth, along with great, high-pitched whines. His lips pull back in a snarl to Kennedy, snapping at her while nuzzling me, gently biting my jaw without leaving marks.
Panting in, breathing out.
I’m watching a war unfold where both sides are even matches. Which constitution will win?
The turning point in the battle comes when his dense green eyes turn toward Kennedy, and his nails retract. He calms as residual spasms shudder out. He’s still resting against me, no space between us. He’s like a rock, hardened without give.
I inhale him in, nose touching skin.
Now he turns to me, his eyes on mine. Our noses are so close, the tips almost touch. His hand comes up exactly like his wolf just did, except no claws are out. Just his flesh touching my flesh.
Magnetic, the draw to him is intense. Raw moon power pulls us toward each other in a collision of epic proportion.
“Clayton.” It’s choked out, a desperate wail. Her hands are now gripping into the earth as if it could somehow provide her with support. Her heart is shredding. She looks like a perfect broken picture, shattered, destroyed beyond repair.
He takes a step away from me, going to her. He kneels with her now. His knees will stain with grass.
“Why?” The both of them face each other.
“I can’t explain it,” he says with a shake of his head.
“Do you love her?” Her lips tremble, little hiccups coming out every now and then. Her tears don’t stop.
“No, I love you.”
“Then why are you here?” Her voice is so soft while she looks into his eyes.
“I can’t help myself. I can’t fight it anymore.” She starts to sob. He holds her to his chest, her head resting on his shoulder.
He’s her rock. Too bad it’s starting to crack and crumble apart right underneath her.
“What’s going to happen?” she asks him, like he has answers.
“I don’t know.” His lips are on her forehead. Not the answer she was looking for as she starts retching on my lawn. Bile from the pit of her stomach is making its way out.
I’m standing there watching them. Is this how marriages fall apart, with one party being attracted to another, not in love but in lust? Willing to break trust for just a taste of that wicked desire?
“I don’t want him. He has nothing I need,” I say to the both of them. I watch as his shoulders tense up, while she holds him closer to her.
“I need you,” he says to me. He looks at Kennedy. “But I love you.”
“You can’t have me!” My voice raises to a harsh hiss.
“I’ll fight for you. You’re worth
my fight. I could kill her, sever the bond. You would be only mine.” She has his head in her hands as she tells him this. He looks at me, contemplating her offer.
Part of me wants to give Kennedy and Clayton western justice. I look toward a tree, trying to find a branch that can support both their weights. They went into this together; they can go out together. Death is absolute, and I have fantasized, if given the opportunity again, could I end her? Could I drink from the throat of life? I can’t. He’s just not worth that need in me anymore.
I don’t need to see that fantasy fulfilled.
His wolf strikes her throat hard, clamping it in his powerful jaw. He’s on all fours now, skin changing to fur. Blood starts to pool underneath Kennedy as her fists start hitting a back that is curving, stretching his shirt so tight it’s splitting down the middle. His wolf has decided he’s thirsty and needs to drink from her throat of life. He must not have taken too kindly to her threat. The wolf has just taken a giant leap into insanity.
His head shakes back and forth, tearing at the skin, ripping it apart as if it were the haunches of a deer. Her body swings back and forth with the force, hands hanging limply at her side. Blood, more blood than I have ever seen, is oozing out from her gaping wounds. She doesn’t look like herself, eyes half open, lips parted and blue tinged. He gets control of himself. With shaky hands, he tries to stop the bleeding.
“What have you done?” Running toward them, I see he’s trying to stop the flow of blood with his fingers, but it’s seeping out the cracks. Now instead of grass stains, he wears his moon’s blood while the real one watches on.
“Put her in my car.” Racing, I open the back door. Her breath is bubbling, gurgling out.
I’m shaking, barely able to concentrate on the road and dialing his number.
“Dallas, you need to come to the clinic. It’s an emergency.” I can’t hide the urgency that borderlines hysteria in my voice.
He has her in his hands, rocking back and forth. “What have I done? Don’t die. Stay with me, Kennedy.” She’s unresponsive.
Getting her on the operating room table, I try to get out what I think he might need, trying to recall all my emergency training that I have never had to use before. They only train you for the what ifs. I’ve never had a what if until now.
Opening bandages, I put tight pressure on her neck to stop the flow of blood. I have to be careful not to put too much pressure or else she can’t breathe. She’s only taking little shallow breaths. They gurgle in her throat. It’s as if she’s drowning in her own blood.
Dallas walks in, calm, getting stuff from the shelves. His hands don’t shake like mine are. Uncovering the bandage, he looks at it, pulling apart the flesh, seeing how deep down it goes. Putting the bandage back on, he presses my hands more firmly on her throat.
“Did you do this?” He’s asking a question that he really doesn’t want the answer to. He’s getting out steel trays wrapped in blue cloth, opening them up to reveal silver-tipped instruments that are able to cut through our skin easily…but they leave scars.
“No, I did.” Clayton’s ready for the fallout.
“You need to call her parents. They need to be here. She might not make it. Now get out, and don’t come back in.”
“I’m not leaving her.” He makes a stand. One by one, Dallas’s brothers make it into the small room, crowding the space. Dallas just concentrates on what’s before him.
“You need to help me, Rya. Can you do this?” I nod my head yes, still applying pressure. Her skin is purplish, red, as the blood withdraws from her extremities to try and save her vital organs. Her nail beds are bluish, and she’s cool to the touch. A deep breath in, then a pause…I wait until another breath is taken in at irregular intervals. Her lungs seem like they have the death rattle.
I watch as his steady hands put an intravenous into her arm, connecting it to a line that’s attached to a bag of blood. He turns it on wide open as the life pours into her.
“I won’t leave!” Clayton screams out to all of them. All Dallas does is look at the second oldest. It’s just a look before all four brothers are on him instantly. Unlike me, he feels every punch that comes his way, bone-crunching pain as the brothers do what the good doctor wants. He puts up a fight, crushing bones with his fists, which the brothers return in kind.
“Call her parents,” Dallas says once more to him. I’m not sure he heard. The door closes behind them, leaving us alone with the dying female.
“Okay, Rya, see this bag of blood? I never want the line to run dry. Keep an eye on it. The blood’s in the fridge. Take out another ten bags from the freezer. They need to be put in that warmer over there to thaw them out.” I do what he tells me to.
He’s pulling the bandage away from her throat, injecting something into the wounds to make the bleeding slow down slightly. I don’t see that an artery was hit. If it was, she would have bled out on my lawn.
She looks so peaceful now like she’s just resting, ghost-like. He’s suturing up her neck. Starting very deep, he pulls the skin together while working up, layer after layer. His gloved hands are all bloody.
“Can you suction her, Rya?” Turning on the suction machine, I stick the long hose down her throat. I put my thumb over the hole in the tubing, allowing the suction to remove blood in her lungs. Lots of blood is coming into the canister, filling it up crimson red.
I look at the bag; it’s almost done. I reach into the fridge and change it out for the almost empty one, spiking the new bag of blood and hanging it on the pole again. Her color is starting to come around very slowly. He’s injecting some more solution into her open flesh.
“What is that?” I stare at the syringe.
“It helps to constrict the blood vessels so the bleeding is more controlled.” All his attention is on her. She’s lucky; he just saved her life.
More bags of blood are emptied into her vein. After at least an hour of sewing her up, he’s finished. As he washes his hands at the sink, I can’t help but look at that ruined neck. She gets to wear the scars of their love for every wolf to see. These are not claimed scars; no, these are the scars of a wolf wanting to end a life.
Dallas picks her up, holding her close to his body, a bag of blood resting on her stomach.
I open the door for him to go into one of the recovery rooms. Aurora is waiting there, bed prepared, a pungent tea already brewing. Dallas places her on the bed while giving Aurora detailed instructions about what to do for the next few hours.
I hear soft crying from a female in the waiting room. Kennedy’s mother is weeping into her mate’s arms. Both stand up as Dallas approaches them.
“She’s out of danger, but we need to give her more blood. You can see her now.” Only her mother takes a step to the room; her father turns and walks out the door. Heavy rage seeps out of his body. Dallas cleans off the table, preparing another line of blood, as if expecting another patient to come through those doors very soon.
Chapter 14
Alpha Born
I watch Dallas as he tries to speak, but nothing comes out. His power is projecting into me. He’s no longer the wolf I thought I knew. This is something that scares me, frightens me.
“His wolf attacked her, protecting me from the both of them.” Teeth, sharp male canine teeth, descend slightly. His fighting form is trying to take the skin side over. Touching his head, I try to calm him, to settle his rising fur.
He turns from me, taking one step toward the door, then another step as fabric starts to stretch over muscles that are engorging with blood.
His brothers are watching the scene with guarded eyes, in silent stillness, their mother in the middle of them flanked on all sides.
Protecting their most precious.
They all look at him, nose in the air, sniffing testosterone that he’s releasing. His body prepares for battle.
“Think this through.” It’s his mother who’s in his ear instantly. She’s calm, eyes watching everything.
“Think, wa
tch, understand.” Her words are her wisdom.
Outside, I look at the circle that’s forming around Clayton. He’s all puffed out. His face is red in rage, his veins dilating. I can see them on his forearms pulsing with his life. His shirt is torn, his moon’s blood all over it, staining the fabric. His clothes will have to be thrown out. There’s no saving them; they’re ruined completely.
Kennedy’s father points his finger in his face, but Clayton slaps it away.
“You people disgust me,” Clayton spits out. “What do you think would happen? What do you think would be the outcome?” Clayton holds his ground not stepping back, while her father takes a step forward.
“We never expected this,” Kennedy’s father rages. A hard punch to Clayton’s jaw does not stagger him. He takes it willingly, spitting out a mouthful of blood; maybe a tooth comes with it.
“You never expected this? You had us sleeping together since we were babies. When we were thirteen, you all knew what we were doing in that bed, but you all said nothing. You all encouraged it. We had your approval.” Clayton’s voice sounds slightly pained and tight. A purple, angry-looking bruise is blossoming open on his jaw line.
More wolves are showing up. They remind me of locusts devouring the sight in front of them.
“You all thought we would end up mates, and when that didn’t happen, you just wanted us to stop. How could you just stop loving someone? You can’t!” he screams. Fists clenching, blood drips down onto the earth to soak up.
“We tried to break up, but we just couldn’t. How can you when what we have is real?” His voice cracks.
“You were so happy that she attacked me, weren’t you? Gave you the excuse to have her shunned by the pack, hoping I would change my mind, come around. Kept her nice and safe from any other wolf who might want to sniff her out.” He’s accusing his father now, pointing fingers in faces that need to be punched.
More wolves are showing up. I can see them eating up all this family business that should be kept behind closed doors. Except he’s decided to air it all out on the line.
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