“Kitty, what the hell—”
“I’m sorry. I can’t explain. I’ll see you later.” I hoped. My heartbeat felt like a jackhammer in my chest. Carl and Meg wouldn’t have to lift a claw to kill me. Stress would do it just fine.
We left the studio with about four hours until dawn and waited in front of the building. Not much time for what I wanted to do. Ben was already waiting in the parking lot. Shaun pulled up in his car right on schedule, just after the show, like I told him to. My pack was growing, I thought with trepidation.
We’d ruffled Arturo’s feathers, now it was time to ruffle Carl’s. I had to keep moving, plowing ahead as fast as I could, before I had second thoughts. It wasn’t too late to back out of the whole thing, was it? As Ben and Shaun approached, I said, “Hi, guys.”
They eyed each other warily, and their gestures were uncanny. Their wolves were speaking in their sideways glances, the way they avoided staring at each other directly, the way they made sure not to approach each other, but to approach me in parallel, not coming near each other. They were sizing each other up without offering a challenge. Did they even realize they were doing it?
I made myself relax, to keep the tension in the air from spiking any more than it already had. I needed these two to cooperate. To trust each other. I needed them to be a pack, even though they’d never met each other.
“Ben, this is Shaun. Shaun, Ben.” They didn’t offer to shake hands. Just nodded in acknowledgment, keeping their gazes down, maintaining an easy distance between them. Their noses were working, though, their nostrils flaring.
“He’s yours?” Shaun said, and I heard an unspoken question in his tone: He’s your mate, your alpha, and I must defer to him as well?
“That’s right,” I said. He nodded, then moved a step back, giving Ben precedence. Making way.
God, this was weird.
“All right,” I said. “Let’s get a move on.”
“Kitty, good hunting,” Rick said, moving off to his BMW. He was going to the hospital to keep watch over my mom, at least until dawn. “And be careful.”
“You, too.”
The three of us piled into my car.
“Where we headed?” Shaun finally asked as I turned onto Highway 6 toward Golden. I hadn’t told him the details. I just said I needed a warm body for an expedition. He’d been trusting enough not to ask any more questions.
“We’re going to the Park and Ride on 93. We’ll drop the car off and head into the hills. Then we start marking territory.”
“You’re kidding,” Shaun said.
“Gives a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘pissing contest,’ ” Ben said, grinning.
Shaun whistled low. “Carl’s going to hate this.”
“That’s the idea. It’s not a full moon, so he won’t be out. None of the pack’ll be out. He won’t know what we’ve done until he steps out of the house tomorrow morning and takes a big breath of air.” I didn’t want to be anywhere near him at that moment. If we did it right, he’d smell it on the air: foreignness, invasion, another pack moving in. He’d smell us.
“I’ve never done anything like this before. It sounds like fun,” Ben said. I couldn’t tell if he was joking. And I felt terrible, because even though he’d met Carl and Meg, he really had no idea what I was getting him into. He might have helped Cormac hunt vampires and werewolves on occasion, but he’d never had to fight for dominance as one of them. His battles were usually in courtrooms, where people followed rules.
Flying by the seat of my pants didn’t begin to cover this.
“You’re crazy,” Shaun muttered. “We are so dead. We’re so gonna die.”
Ben looked at him over the car seat. “Then why are you even here?”
“We’re not going to die,” I said. “We’ll keep moving. We won’t stop long enough for them to be able to find us.”
Shaun wouldn’t let up. “That’s fine for you to say as a human. But are you going to remember that great plan as a wolf? How am I going to remember it?”
“I’ll remind you,” I said, low enough for it to be taken as a growl. That and a quick glance in the rearview mirror made him settle down. He actually cringed a bit.
A girl could get a big head over that kind of power. Not now, though. I had a job to do.
“Shaun, if you’re not sure about this, you don’t have to do it. I’ll let you out, take you back, whatever.”
“No, I’m sure. I’m just nervous. That’s all.”
He might have said scared and it would have been as true.
“I know. Just keep thinking about the big picture. This is supposed to make everything better in the long run. This is supposed to keep people like Jenny from getting killed.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Ben put his hand on my thigh—a touch of comfort. I hadn’t realized how tense I was until I twitched at the pressure. But his touch transmitted calm. Stay calm. This’ll work.
We arrived all too quickly. Quicker than I thought we would. No traffic at 2:00 A.M. Maybe that was it.
“We can still change our minds,” I said after I shut the engine off.
“You’re the alpha,” Ben said. “Isn’t that what you keep saying? It’s not up to us.”
“Ben—” It came out as a whine.
“Are you guys married?” Shaun said. “’Cause you sound married.”
I leaned my forehead on the steering wheel and groaned. “How did my life turn into this?” I didn’t even want to see how Ben was taking the comment.
Shaun quickly said, “No, it’s in a good way. Way better than Carl and Meg.”
“What do they sound like when they argue?” I said.
“They don’t argue. They don’t even talk to each other. Compared to them, you guys are Ozzie and Harriet.”
Ben patted my arm. “Come on, dear. When this is all over, we can go home and you can make me a martini and fetch my slippers.”
We climbed out of the car. “Oh, no. I don’t think so.”
Ben glanced at Shaun. “See? No Ozzie and Harriet here.”
Shaun shook his head, and I had a sneaking suspicion he wanted to laugh.
A ridge of hills and ravines ran north and west from here, leading up to the Flatirons, roughly marking the western edge of Carl’s territory. He and his wolves ranged farther into the mountains on occasion. But the foothills and plains along this stretch were their favorite stomping grounds. Kicking the wasp nest. Yeah.
Wolf coiled inside me, like my insides were pacing even though I wasn’t. For once, we agreed on something. She was as pissed off at Carl as I was. Carl was breaking trust with his wolves; he’d killed wolves under his protection. He wasn’t a good alpha, and we had to do something about that.
I walked up the side of the hill, beginning the trek into wilderness. I sensed rather than saw Ben and Shaun hesitate, then follow. Even if one of them had spoken, had called to me, I didn’t think I could answer. Not with human words. I was entering Wolf’s world.
First thing was to find a den. I found one where stands of pine trees started growing, up in the hills near Coal Creek Canyon. Trees stood over a sheltered hollow. It couldn’t be seen at all from downslope. We could stash our clothes and have a safe place to come and sleep it off. And it was relatively near the car for that fast getaway come morning.
I started stripping, pulling off my shirt. Shaun did the same. Ben watched us.
“This is weird,” Ben said. “Doing this in front of a stranger. It’s like having sex with the curtains open.”
He didn’t have any experience with a real pack, where naked wasn’t sexual, it was just natural. He’d only ever Changed when it was the two of us. And yeah, curled up together the next morning, sex was usually involved. I couldn’t blame him for making the connection. But I did anyway.
“Would you get your mind out of the gutter?”
“Can we trust him?” Suddenly he sounded serious. And he was right. This was war, and there were spies. I only knew Shaun as
someone from my old life who didn’t like Carl.
“You can trust me,” Shaun said, his shirt off, his jeans unzipped, half undressed. “I trust her.” He gave me that look that a subordinate gives his alpha. That focused gaze, waiting to be told what to do, when to jump.
I hadn’t done anything to earn that trust. Not yet. I didn’t deserve it. I hadn’t been able to save Jenny. I nodded to him, all the acknowledgment I was able to give.
He finished undressing, and a sheen of sweat covered his skin. His hands were shifting already, thickening, and his back hunched. Ben saw it; he’d clenched his own hands into fists, and his hair was damp. He was close, too.
“Ben.” I touched his hand, and it uncurled to grasp mine. I drew close to him. “I need you, okay? I need your help. I can’t do this by myself.”
“You seem to be doing just fine.” His cheek brushed mine. His other hand caressed my back. God, I wanted him. I wanted to ditch this whole thing and run into the woods with him.
We kissed, and the touch was hot, tense, desperate. A last kiss before battle.
“Later,” I whispered, hoping he’d been thinking the same thing. He nodded.
Nearby, Shaun gave a grunt—or what had been Shaun gave a grunt. In his place, a dark and silvery wolf shook out his fur and turned to us with gleaming eyes. His tail was low, questioning.
Ben was trembling, holding in his own wolf. I started unbuttoning his shirt. “Come on. It’s time.”
We got most of his clothes off before he fell, kicking off his pants as he shifted, bones melting and skin sliding, the other form bursting out of him, swallowing him. He didn’t make a sound, kept it all in and just let it happen. Flowing like water was how I thought of it. His wolf was rusty gray, turning to cream on his nose and belly. The two wolves approached each other, heads low, sniffing. Ben growled and Shaun ducked, clamping his tail between his legs. That was all it took. Pack order established. Ben was alpha male. Weirdly, I was proud of him.
I looked at my two wolves. When I knelt, they came to me, rubbed against me, smelling me, and I stroked them. “Thank you for believing in me,” I said, and maybe they understood and maybe they didn’t. But Ben wagged his tail once.
Go go go—
And Wolf was right, I couldn’t hold it any longer.
This is war.
This is battle, this is chaos, this is breaking taboos, edging into the territory of another pack. Seeking out this alien scent, letting it surround her—the nearness of danger makes all her hair stand on end, and a growl is ready to break loose in her throat.
And yet, she seeks it out, and the danger thrills her. She knows: We are stronger, we will win, we must.
She has a pack. A small one, but hers, and they follow, her mate and the other at her flanks. With their ground-eating strides—sometimes trotting, sometimes loping—they cover miles of ground on plain and hill. All the while, at junctures and borders, they mark. At the reeking places where the other pack has marked they especially linger.
There is joy in this as well, and she stops her followers to play, leaping at each other, snapping, yipping. Her mate finds a rabbit and they eat. Then they range again, mindful of the battle.
She feels the dawn approach rather than notes any sign of it—the lightening of the sky, the first songs of birds. Just as the urgency of war drove them for the few hours of night, the same urgency tells her they must be away from here by daylight. They must sleep, so she leads them back to their den. The three of them settle down, curled up nose to tail, touching, safe in each other’s company.
I woke up in a strange place, with strange pressures around me. I lie on my side, on dry grass with pine boughs overhanging. Ben was in front of me, his head against my chest, one arm over my waist, the other tucked between us. He was snoring a little—it was awfully cute. Another body pressed close against my back, breathing deeply in sleep. Shaun lay against me, back to back.
A pack. Waking up in a dog pile of naked bodies, safe and comforted by their warmth. I’d forgotten what it was like. I wanted to revel in the feeling for hours.
But we weren’t safe. We were in enemy territory, and we’d set a urinary time bomb that would be going off any minute now.
I elbowed Shaun and shook Ben. “Come on. We have to get going. Up up up, guys.”
Ben groaned and took a firm grip on my arms, holding me in place while he sidled closer to me. His eyes were closed, and I couldn’t tell if he was awake. Then he started necking me, working his way to my ear, where he started nibbling.
He sure knew which buttons to push. I just about melted. “Ben . . . this . . . this isn’t—” Oh, come on, a little voice said . . . This was just fine. Make that a big voice.
Oh, no. There were so many reasons why this wasn’t the time or place for this. “Ben. Wait.” I pulled away and took his face in my hands. Finally, he opened his eyes. Then glanced over my shoulder, to where Shaun was sitting up and watching us.
“Don’t stop on my account,” he said with a laugh behind his leer.
Ben gave me a look—smirking and clearly annoyed. “I didn’t sign up for this,” he said, nodding at Shaun.
“You didn’t sign up for any of this.” I kissed his forehead.
“Ozzie and Harriet,” Shaun said, shaking his head again.
I glared. “Let’s get out of here.”
Shaun was smiling, seeming far more content with the world than he had a right to be. “It’s good to have you back, Kitty. Back and all grown up.”
I thought about what I must have looked like through his eyes: I’d been weak. I’d felt small, vulnerable, at everyone’s mercy. Then I disappeared for months and came back waging war. And this made him happy? He must have seen something I’d missed.
“Thanks,” I said and held my hand to him. He clasped it, securing a bond of pack, of friendship. I was ready to pull both of them into a group hug, no matter how much Ben grumbled about it.
But Ben was looking out, across the hill, through the trees. “Someone’s coming.”
Shit. Too late. We’d waited too long.
“Who?” I whispered. The three of us had straightened, lifting our faces to the air, smelling—three wolves in human form, alert and wary, all senses firing.
Shaun said, “She’s coming from upwind. She wants us to know she’s here.”
She. Meg, I thought in a panic. I took a deep breath, catching the smell that Shaun had found. Human and wild—lycanthrope, yes. And female. But it wasn’t Meg. I’d recognize Meg. Her scent lived in my nightmares.
Meg wouldn’t give us any warning. She’d pounce, and she wouldn’t be alone. This was one person, and Shaun was right; she was giving us a good long approach. We waited, still and quiet, until she emerged from the trees. She was average height and build, with an edge: sharp features, wiry limbs. Her auburn hair was short, brushing around her ears. She wore a tank top and shorts, and she might have been anyone out for a morning stroll, but for the look in her eyes: hooded, anxious. Her jaw was set, and her shoulders tense, a bit like rising hackles.
“Becky,” I said.
She was another one of Carl’s, a couple years older than me both in chronological age and in time as a lycanthrope. She was tough, maintaining a spot in the middle to upper end of the pack hierarchy. She was one of the ones who thrived in this life. My first thought: I had underestimated him. Carl had expected something like this and sent a patrol. He was ready for us, and we’d been caught. We’d lost. Sitting here in the great outdoors, naked, along with the two men, I couldn’t help but feel like I’d been caught at something illicit. That made me blush, and the blushing made me angry.
But then, she’d been the one who tried to help Jenny. What was she doing here now?
“What are you going to tell Carl?” I said. “You going to run back and tell him we’re right here, easy pickings? Is that what he sent you out here to find?”
She shook her head, and her voice was low. “He didn’t send me. I came out here for a walk. T
o think. I do that sometimes. Then I smelled you and followed you here.”
I was taken aback. “Carl doesn’t know we’re here?”
“Oh, he will. You guys were busy last night.” A smile flickered, and she looked away. To the wolves, that was a gesture of peace, of submission. It heartened me.
“You’re going to tell him.”
“No,” she said. She licked her lips. Gaze downcast, she said, “I want to join you. Take me with you.”
chapter 11
We’d goaded our rivals, with this bright idea of luring them into the open. They’d be angry, unprepared, and—I hoped—they’d get stupid. It looked nice on paper. At least it would have if I had written any of it down.
In the meantime, the four of us grabbed breakfast. I now had a pack of four. How had that happened?
Over coffee, Shaun told me what had been happening with the pack. “You remember Gabe?”
“The bike courier from Boulder, right? Thirty something. Ran marathons.”
“Right. He was the first one. After T. J., Carl flipped. Kept thinking others would try it. That we were all questioning his authority. He had to slap everyone down to prove his point. Most of us rolled over and took it. You know how it is. But Gabe . . . Gabe thought he could talk to Carl. Reason with him. Appeal to the human side. But Carl . . . ” Shaun shrugged, looked away, to collect himself. “Carl went too far. Gabe listened to your show, you know. Didn’t tell you. Didn’t dare tell Carl. But he really liked what you had to say. About being human. I think . . . I guess he thought he had to try.”
Great. Now I could lay him on my conscience, too. Made me question all over again if I was ready for this.
“And it’s kept happening. Carl makes examples, keeps throwing his dominance at us. And we keep questioning him. I’d like to have my own place someday. Start my own restaurant or bar or something. But Carl’s made threats. Says he’ll make sure the place sinks. He doesn’t want anyone but him in charge of anything. I can’t make a move with him in the picture. I don’t want him trying to shut me down like he tried to do with you.” He nodded at me. “Then he starts dragging us into Arturo’s turf war, not even thinking twice about getting us all killed. I’m not sure he even sees people anymore when he looks at us.”
Kitty and the Silver Bullet Page 18
