by Kitt Rose
Justice had taken a part of me with him when he'd died. And like an amputee who'd lost a limb, the remaining part itched and ached, but could never be soothed. That was why I’d allowed myself the indulgence of alcohol now.
“Two months ago, Justice called me at work. He was complaining that his head hurt. He needed new glasses but didn’t want to spend the money. I was mad he called me to complain about something that he could easily fix if he’d just stop being a stubborn ass.” I grimaced. “I snapped at him. Told him to take a couple Advil and quit his bitching. And when I got home that night, he was gone.”
Johnny reached over and took my hand. The heat of his touch burned my chilled skin, but I grasped his fingers like the lifeline it was.
“He was cold, and so still.” A tear snuck from the corner of my eye and streaked down my face. “His chest wouldn’t move. No matter what I did, he was dead.”
“I’m so sorry.” His voice wavered.
I glanced up at his face. His eyes glistened with unshed tears.
“It still feels like a nightmare. And I just want to wake up. The doctors said it was an aneurysm. Probably happened in his sleep. Quick and painless.” Bitterness coated the words because there was nothing painless about losing my twin. Dead was still dead.
One moment, my brother had been vibrant and alive, bitching about needing new glasses and what that would end up costing, and the next… Gone. Forever. And of course, there was the guilt. My last words to Justice, my twin and lifelong best friend, had been harsh and impatient.
Losing him had been one of the worst things I'd ever been through, and I'd been through a lot.
Johnny didn’t seem to know what to say after that. We sat in silence, drinking our beers and holding hands. The pressure in my chest eased. I’d been alone for the last two months. Now I wasn’t. I felt like I could finally breathe again.
I yawned.
“Go to bed,” Johnny said. “You’re tired. We can talk more in the morning,”
Nodding, I stood and he pulled me into a hug.
“Love you, Lib.”
My eyes burned and I blinked away the tears, squeezing him tight. “Love you, too.”
I fell asleep the instant my head hit the pillow. Tucked under a quilt made by Gigi, Johnny’s mother, I slept hard. And when I woke, something like hope filled me.
Being here, in this town, in this house, and in this bed, felt like a dream compared to the nightmare my life had been since Justice died.
“Well, I did it, Just. I went home,” I whispered into the quiet room, warm under the covers. “You were right. Even after all these years, this is home. I haven't seen him yet, though. I'm not sure how I'm going to handle that when it happens. But I'll survive it. It's all a step in the right direction, at least.” I smiled suddenly, Justice's smug laughter filling my mind. I could almost see his smile. Could practically hear him saying about damn time.
It was a bittersweet feeling. Since his death, his voice had replaced my own internal one. It was appropriate because he had been my sounding board in life, and now my subconscious had made him one, even in death. It made me feel closer to him when he had never been so far away.
God, I missed him.
I curled into the fetal position. A single tear rolled down my cheek to land on the pillowcase. I turned enough to stare at the dark spot on the white cotton.
I was still staring at it when someone rapped a knuckle on the closed door.
Johnny's voice came from the hall. “Libby?”
“Yeah?”
“I made some breakfast. You hungry?”
“Sure, I'll be down in a minute,” I replied.
I listened for Johnny's tread on the stairs, and then with a deep breath, I threw my legs over the edge of the bed. It had been surprisingly comfortable, especially because I was pretty sure it had been Johnny's from childhood. The oak captain's bedframe had been at least.
I pulled a pair of jeans and a lilac boat neck from the open suitcase in the corner, trying to ignore the pile of bags and boxes that would eventually need unpacked and put away. Once I was dressed, I hit the bathroom, ignoring the toothpaste splattered on the mirror and the disgusting science experiment growing in the toilet. I brushed my teeth, scraped my hair back into a ponytail, and washed my face. Without makeup, I looked tired and young.
Hell, I was tired, but I didn't think I could ever feel young again. Too much had happened in my twenty-four years, most of it in the last seven.
Exiting the bathroom, I headed toward the stairs. Besides the bathroom and my new bedroom, there were two other doors in the narrow hall on the way to the stairs. One was open, revealing a gym set up with a weight bench and treadmill. The other was closed and I resisted the urge to check out what was obviously Johnny's room. Considering the condition of the bathroom, I probably didn't want to see it.
The staircase ended in a small entryway that led into the living room. I turned right, passed through the room and into the faded yellow kitchen at the back of the house. The walls were peppered with empty nails, and the white-painted cabinets decorated with scalloped doors that were too feminine for my uncle. A small, battered white table sat in a windowed alcove overlooking the driveway.
Johnny stood at the stove, loading a plate from a skillet full of fluffy eggs and crisp bacon. He passed me the plate and gestured with a jerk of his head to the coffeemaker on his left. “Help yourself.”
I grabbed the plate from him and set it at the table, fixing a cup of coffee with cream and sugar before settling into the seat. “I'm impressed you can cook. That's new.”
He slid into the chair across from me. “Not so new. Don’t like doing it, but a few years back, I worked nights. If I hadn't learned to cook, I'd have lived on PB&J and cereal.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Mechanics work nights?”
He looked surprised for a moment. “Oh, well, I was working a second job, um off the books, so to speak. I'm not anymore. But when you sleep when the rest of the world is awake, and vice versa, it's surprisingly hard to find someone to feed you—unless you don't mind living on fast food.” He scratched at his beard, then pointed to my collarbone. “So, you have a tattoo?”
I did. A pair of robins. On the left side was the male robin and a single blue egg in a nest. On the other side was the female, flying toward its mate. I touched where I knew the nest was inked into my skin. “Yeah. Just the one.”
“It's beautiful.”
It was. I'd spent a lot of money and time on it. It had been important that it be right.
“Thanks.” I took a bite of my eggs. “Wow, these eggs are good. I'm impressed.”
“You shouldn't be.” A gruff voice sounded behind me, and I spun so fast I almost knocked my chair over.
Asher Stefan stood in the kitchen's doorway, filling up the space.
It took all of my self-control not to react. Still, my breath caught in my throat, and conflicting emotions swelled inside me. My heart warred with itself. Pain and joy. Hurt and hope. So confused. Turned upside down and inside out. Even still, I couldn't help but drink him in.
Time had been good to him. He'd grown taller. His shoulders were broader, the white Henley he wore stretched across his powerful arms and chest to display an impressive body.
Ash's pale blonde hair was slicked back from his face, letting his amazing bone structure shine. Strong jaw, aquiline nose, and cheekbones that cut high, creating sculpted hollows beneath. Under his arched brows, intense violet eyes moved over my face. In all my life, I had never seen another pair of eyes that color.
“Why shouldn't I be impressed?” I asked, voice cracking.
After a long moment, he shrugged. “Anyone can make eggs.”
“Can you?” I couldn't resist asking the flippant question.
One side of his mouth kicked up. “I did say anyone, so yeah.”
Both of us fell silent, and I continued to stare. I'd known I would see him. It was an eventuality I thought I'd prepared for. To see him
with a wife and kids. Happy without me.
I couldn't help but check his left hand. There wasn't a ring. It didn't mean anything but—
I wanted to shake myself. But nothing. It didn't matter. He had abandoned me. Made me a promise, then broke it. In less than a year. I hadn't been important enough for him to keep his word for even a year.
Even if I hadn't wanted to, I had missed him so much. For over ten years, he had been my best friend. We'd been thick as thieves, even though three years separated us. When he went to college my last year in Homeplace, it had felt like we'd single-handedly kept the phone company in business.
And then that day… The night after I'd learned we were going to be ripped from the only home I'd ever known, he'd shown up in my bedroom window. Scaled the trellis like some kind of modern-day Romeo.
Until that moment, we'd been nothing but good friends. I'd always wanted more, dreamed of more, but nothing had ever happened between us. Until I'd called him, frantic. Told him I was leaving, and how terrified I was.
Without telling me he was doing it, he'd driven all night and all day. Skipped his classes and traveled over a thousand miles to tell me that it didn't matter where I was, he would never let me go. That I was his, and he was mine.
And then he'd kissed me, obliterating every wall I'd erected to keep my heart safe. It had been his for the taking. I had been his for the taking. Even at sixteen, I'd known I loved him. An all-consuming sort of love. The likes of which I had never again felt.
So of course, I'd believed in him, trusted him.
At first, after my family moved to Georgia, I had written him once a week. He’d never answered. And the silence had been deafening. Then on the day of my mother's diagnosis, I’d called him. A woman had answered his phone—his single dorm room phone—and told me Ash was unavailable. My heart had shattered.
Now, after all this time, here he was. And I couldn't tell if he even recognized me. If he remembered me. It would absolutely break me if he didn't.
“Could you give us a minute?” Ash finally asked Johnny, his eyes never leaving me.
I'd forgotten my uncle was in the room. My pulse thudded in my throat and I gripped the fork so hard it hurt. Johnny rose, without a word, and left the room. I wanted to call him back. Beg him to not leave me. But he was already gone, his footsteps on the stairs. A door closed, and a moment later the shower turned on.
As soon as it did, Asher strode across the room, his face blank. He stopped in front of me and his hand extended toward my face.
It was shaking.
His hand was trembling.
My eyes bounced from his hand up to his eyes, and I sucked in a breath at the wetness there. Tears made those violet irises luminous. He stroked one finger down my cheek, whisper-soft, and a wave of heat and tightness swept from the top of my head down my chest, leaving me light-headed. I shivered, wanting to lean into his touch.
“I was wondering if you'd remember me,” he whispered, voice gruff.
“How could I ever forget you?” The words just slipped out. I didn't mean to say them. Wanted to take them back the second they formed, but it was too late.
I don't know what happened, but suddenly I was in his arms, feet dangling, my fork clattering to the floor. I wasn't a small woman, plus size by most people's definition, but he was so big, so strong. And so warm. I wanted to burrow into him. I also wanted to slap him. To shove him away and scream.
But his scent invaded my world. He smelled exactly the same. Like the forest and green things, with a hint of something citrus—like bergamot. Silent tears slid down my cheeks. I threw my arms around his shoulders, squeezing fiercely.
Hot breath against my ear made me shudder when he whispered, “I've missed you so much.”
3
Ash
Nine years. It had been nearly nine years since I had seen Libby. I had thought about her every damn day of those long years apart. Wondered where she was, what she was doing, and if she ever thought of me. I'd given up hope of ever seeing her again. And then this morning, my brother, Elliot, had changed everything.
Like normal, I had woken before the sun rose, took a shower, then had breakfast on the deck. I ate watching the wheat fields that filled the horizon sway under the rising sun. Peace, beauty, and perfection, for just a moment before life's complexities crept in.
Elliot had wandered outside as I was finishing my meal. My older brother had been shirtless, even though the temperature was barely sixty degrees so early. The cold didn't bother either of us. Like most Protean wolf shifters, we ran hot and preferred colder climates. It was one of the reasons our ancestors had settled here.
North Dakota was the perfect kind of country for us. Cooler temperatures, remote, and sparsely populated. Over a century ago, the Pack had purchased huge tracks of land, built a community, and even planted a small forest. It would shock the human government to learn how many Proteans populated the state. That is if they were ever allowed to know that Proteans existed at all. I had my doubts that day would ever come. And if it did… Well, I could just imagine what a politician would think when the words “Titans and Greek gods” were spoken. They would never believe.
Elliot had dropped into the second rocking chair next to me, raking a hand through his golden curls. He yawned, his eyes watering with the deep stretch.
“Morning,” I said.
“Yeah. It is at that,” Elliot returned, the words muffled around his dying yawn.
“How was your date?”
“Interesting.”
“Really?” That had surprised me. Our younger sister, Izzy, had been trying her hand at matchmaker since she had her first child two years ago. We were both more than a little sick of it. “You liked this one then?”
“What?” Elliot scratched a scruffy cheek. “Oh. Shit no, she was dull. Good kisser, but talking to her was about as interesting as watching paint dry. That wasn't what I was talking about. Johnny had a surprise visitor at Hair of the Dog last night.”
Elliot hit a dramatic pause, then wagged his eyebrows. “Libby's back.”
I was jolted, my entire body locked in shock. “What?”
“Yeah, Liberty Dahl. I know you remember her.” Elliot frowned, the teasing tone slipping from his voice. “I guess, well… Justice died. A couple of months ago. You can tell she's still all kinds of messed up about it.”
Elliot was still talking, but I wasn't listening. My mind was in a frenzy. Justice dead? Libby, here? I had to see her.
I had jumped to my feet and jogged for my truck.
“Where the fuck are you going?” Elliot had called after me.
“To see Libby,” I yelled back, not bothering to turn around.
Elliot laughed, the sound echoed in the still morning. “Hey, Ash-hole, it's barely seven in the morning. Way too early.”
Reluctantly, I had agreed. But I'd still driven over, waiting in the truck in front of Johnny's house—like some sort of stalker. I had sat and waited, watching and listening, until I had heard a woman's voice come from inside the kitchen. Not sprinting into the house had been an exercise in control I had just managed.
And now she was in my arms at long last, soft curves pressed against me. I inhaled the scent of her, something floral and sweet, the same but different. Richer, riper. More womanly. I wanted to drown in that scent, in her.
“I've missed you so much,” I said. “I heard about Justice. I'm so sorry, Libby. So damn sorry.”
Libby pushed at me and I inhaled again, cataloging the scents beneath her unique smell. Pain—that I'd expected—but anger? Why was she angry?
Reluctantly, I set her on her feet and angled her face toward mine. A tear tracked down her cheek. She looked so damned haunted. Pain unlike any I had ever seen, had sunk deep into her dark eyes. Seeing her wounded cleaved into my soul. My Libby should never have experienced whatever put that darkness inside.
Anger rioted in the pit of my stomach. I fought to keep the emotion off my face because I wasn't mad at L
ibby. No, the bulk of the blame rests on my father, Tobias, for separating us in the first place. For not believing me when I'd declared that she was my mate. My one true mate. She wasn't a Protean, even if her dad was, and because of that, my father had insisted that she couldn't be my mate. And then he had sent me away.
My father hadn't gotten what I felt for Libby. She'd been my best friend since childhood. Who better to be my mate? I would have claimed her the moment I was sure, but she had been too young. But being young and trusting, I'd told my Alpha about Libby. That had been my first mistake of many. Joshua had refused to give me permission to tell her what I was, what most of Homeplace was. He had gone so far as to forbid me to say anything. Made it an order I hadn't been strong enough to disobey.
And then I'd lost her.
Well, I wouldn't take that chance now. No more asking for permission that should be mine by birthright. I was strong enough now, could do as I pleased. And I had been looking for a way to dispose of Joshua for years. The only thing stopping me from taking over control of the Pack was my lack of a mate. An Alpha should have a mate to ascend, though it wasn't strictly required just unheard of for someone like me.
I would tell Libby what I was, what her father was. Would win her heart and take her as my mate. Then I'd take my place at the head of the Pack and clean up the mess Joshua had allowed to fester in our ranks.
Sure. Because it will be that easy.
I blinked, realizing Libby and I were staring at each other. Her mouth compressed into a tight line.
“What?” I asked.
“How did you know about Justice? Hell, how did you know I was here?” Her voice was flat, giving away nothing.
“Elliot told me this morning. He said he saw you at Hair of the Dog last night.”
Her brow furrowed. “Elliot? I didn't see—Wait! The guy with the blond curls. Seriously? That was him with Ms. Hoover?”
A sharp bark of laughter burst from me. “Ms. Hoover?”
