by Hettie Ivers
My brows went up along with my back. “Well, that’s something we all have in common then, because it wasn’t on my agenda for the week, either.”
“Ooh, I caught a glimmer of fierceness coming from you that time,” she commended me with a snicker. “More of that and less apology, ’kay?”
Rolling my eyes, I found myself chuckling along with her. Raul was right. So far I did like Avery. “Care to elaborate on the bad timing?”
“What I mean is you’re in a werewolf baptism-by-fire situation here, whether you like it or not.” She pushed her plate aside and propped her elbows on the table. “Here’s the deal: Gabe was an evil prick, and everyone in this pack is obviously better off without him. But they’re still healing from years of his abusive reign. And before that, his brother’s abuse. And before that … well, basically every Salvatella Alpha has been an asshole as I understand it.”
She steepled her hands beneath her chin and interlaced her fingers. “As a pack, we’re still somewhat divided and volatile. It’s crucial right now that Raul remains in power and establishes some measure of stability.” Her expression changed suddenly, and she appeared distracted, like she’d gone into her own head. Then, just as abruptly, her expression changed back and she concluded, “So you can’t fuck this up for him, okay?”
I was in too much shock at first to respond. Laughing in her face and throwing the c-word at her would’ve been somewhat gratifying, albeit childish, but I knew it would gain me nothing as far as allies and information.
“Just so we’re clear, I didn’t ask for this,” I set her straight. “And I’m not planning on staying here long enough to fuck up anything for Raul or your pack. I want nothing to do with this. I have a life in San Francisco. I’m finishing my residency, and I have plans in place to start my own practice next year. Do you have any idea how hard I’ve worked to—”
“I know, I know. Believe me, Bethy, I empathize with you more than you realize. I’m on your side.” Her tone was gentle, but firm. “I’ve been in your shoes. Ten years ago, I was thirty-two years old, engaged to be married, and ready to start a family. I’d finished my Ph.D. in molecular biology at M.I.T., and I was working a job I loved in genetic research. You think I planned on a rogue werewolf crashing my camping weekend, killing my fiancé and my friends, and forever altering the course of my existence as well as my DNA?”
Well, crap, when she framed it that way, she made my night of hot club sex followed by werewolf biting and kidnapping sound like a sexy holiday compared to her own werewolf baptism by fire.
Sometimes perspective was a bitch.
“Life throws us curves, and we’ve got to be like water and adapt. Like Darwin said, it’s not the strongest of the species that survives, or the most intelligent. It’s the one that is most adaptable to change. Fighting against the inevitable isn’t going to help you with this, and it isn’t going to help our pack. You and Raul are mated. Done deal. No backsies or exchanges.”
She let me mull on that while she took a sip of coffee. “By the way, Raul just communicated with me a moment ago through our mind link. He’ll be here in five.”
That explained her distraction before. “Thanks.” I was enjoying my time with Avery, but I couldn’t deny the excitement I felt knowing Raul was on his way. As crazy as it was, already it felt like it’d been too long since I’d seen him. “So, is that weird? Communicating telepathically?”
“At first. But you get used to it. At least I did. My mate, Alcaeus, isn’t a fan. I don’t think they practiced that method of communication as much within his former pack. Mike says it’s a generational thing—that the younger werelocks are more comfortable embracing it. My mate’s old school.” She rolled one shoulder, and the goofiest, dreamiest smile broke across her face for just a moment. It was so sweet I felt myself grinning with her.
“To me,” she continued, “mind-tapping is a tool like anything else. Helpful at times, other times annoying as fuck. Oh, and the other thing they do a bit differently in this pack is tap emotions—which, normally, is something that I think only occurs between mates.” Her brow creased. “Not positive. I’m not exactly the resident expert on ‘normal’ werelock behavior. In any case, Alcaeus and I have never gotten into the emotional swinging that goes on between our Salvatella pack mates. Frankly,” she said, leaning in and whispering conspiratorially, “I wouldn’t advise it, given the mostly crazy werewolf pool we’re swimming in here.”
I nodded absently. Sounded like a whole lotta rampant codependency to me. I decided to change the subject before I started freaking out.
“So, I’m really looking forward to meeting your daughter. Sloane sounds amazing.”
Avery beamed with pride. “Thank you. She is amazing.”
“It’s so sweet how she and Raul have formed such a special, unique connection. Will I get to meet her today?”
She set her coffee mug down. “So, about that. You should know, Sloane’s not always very embracing of new people in her life.”
“Oh, I understand,” I reassured her. “Raul told me.”
“Her verbal communication skills have improved by leaps and bounds since Raul has come into her life, but she still struggles with self-expression and often resorts to tantrums and other forms of … demonstration when she has difficulty processing her emotions.”
“Really and truly, Avery, you don’t have to worry. I would never judge your daughter or hold her to some arbitrary standard for proper child behavior and expression.”
She started laughing. “Oh, you’re so sweet. That’s not what I’m worried about.” She shook her head. “How to say this? I’m actually relieved that Raul claimed you as his mate now rather than holding out any longer. Because even though Sloane might be upset initially by your arrival on the scene, she’s right at that tender age where … well, you know?” She gestured vaguely with her hand. “If it went on any longer, it’d only become potentially more awkward and difficult for her to understand.”
“Not sure I’m following.”
“What’s your age difference with Raul again?”
“Roughly eight years. Why?”
She nodded. “Perfect. That’s what I remembered him telling me. And Raul’s estranged father brought him back to Brazil to live with him when Raul was how old?”
“He was a senior in high school. Probably eighteen or close to it?”
“So you were around Sloane’s age at that time.” She tilted her head at me. “And then you saw him briefly every few years during your teenage years whenever he’d come home to visit? Tell me, what’d you think of Raul back then? What was your predominant lasting impression of him from the age of ten onward?”
I blushed.
She leveled her pointer finger at me. “You follow me?”
“Oh, my. I don’t think Raul has any idea Sloane has a crush on him.”
“Of course not. He’s a guy. Chaos is in complete denial too.”
“Chaos?”
“Alcaeus, my mate. He prefers the nickname Chaos.”
Huh. “Okay.” I nodded, making a mental note.
“It’s easier to say and remember, don’t you think? Anyway, I hope you won’t take it personally if Sloane has a less than positive initial reaction to you.”
“No, of course not. I understand.”
“So what’s on the agenda for today?”
“Well, I know Raul’s taking me to see the pack’s head werelock doctor. I’m not sure what else he has planned after that.”
She scrunched her nose up. “That’d be Rafe. Really hot Afro-Argentine werelock with an enormous chip on his shoulder and a transforming scar running the length of his face through his right eye. Try not to stare at it. It’s really hard, I know, ’cause it’s kinda mesmerizing in a disturbing way.”
“Transforming?”
“Changing. Mutating. It’s a curse. It transforms with his mood. The happier Rafe is, the more grotesque his scar becomes. If he laughs, he loses vision in his right eye entirely.�
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“That’s horrible.”
“Yeah, so try not to take it personally when he’s a dick to you. He’s a dick to everyone.”
I nodded. “That poor man.”
“No, no, don’t fall into the trap of feeling sorry for him, either. Because he really is a dick, scar or not. But hey, he can scent a kidney stone inside a person from a town away.”
Yuck. “As part of the curse?”
“No, as part of him being a medical genius.”
“Oh.” Right. “I’m sure that comes in handy.” For something.
26
Bethany
Raul showed up at Avery’s front door a few minutes later, giving me butterflies with the way he eyeballed every inch of me in the short, strappy sundress I was wearing—the one he’d chosen from my clothes and had left for me at Avery’s.
I asked Avery if I could borrow a sweater or a jacket as Raul and I were heading out the door, but they both dismissed the need for one, claiming it was warm outside.
“I always thought Bariloche was where people came to ski,” I commented to Raul as we began to make our way, hand in hand, from Avery’s house on the outskirts of the compound to the main Salvatella mansion. “Pretty sure the forecast called for colder weather in San Francisco today than you have here.”
Not only was it green and lush everywhere I looked, the sky was a perfect shade of blue, the sun bright, and the temperature a breezy seventy-six degrees. Vibrant lupines and other colorful wildflowers covered the earth like a rolling patchwork quilt.
“February is a summer month here. July and August are for skiing. Gorgeous, right?”
“Um, duh! Utterly breathtaking times ten. It doesn’t even seem real to me. Between the Andes Mountains and the stunning crystal-clear blue lake, it looks like a fairy tale. Or a movie set backdrop. What’s the name of that enormous lake?”
“Nahuel Huapi.”
I made a face. “Like the moonshine drink guy? The one who got his head—”
“Yep. He was named after that lake.”
“Nice. You just ruined a perfectly beautiful lake for me. Thanks for that.”
He laughed. “Did you want me to lie and invent a fake name for it?”
“Eh, maybe,” I said with a playful toss of my hair, reverting to the role of airhead captive I’d adopted on the plane. “Sometimes truth-bending is arguably the more considerate, humane approach.”
We’d walked a few more paces when he stopped, pulling me to a halt with him. His eyes were serious, despite the smile on his lips, as he took both my hands in his. “You’re joking, I know, but don’t you think that sometimes, in certain situations, it can be the humane approach? Like Plato’s concept of a ‘noble lie’ for the greater good and all that?”
Was this a trick question? “I thought they discovered that was just a really bad translation of The Republic. Didn’t they?”
He nodded slowly and we resumed walking.
“Well, since the lake’s ruined for you, I guess it won’t hurt to tell you that there’s also a legend about a giant creature known as Nahuelito who lives in that lake.”
“That in no way qualifies as a noble lie, Raul.”
He laughed. “Nah, I’m serious. He’s our Loch Ness. Ask anyone in my pack about it; they’ll tell you.”
I gave him a sidelong glance. “You know I’m gonna Google this as soon as I have my freedom and Internet privileges back, right?”
My words had been spoken in teasing, but I immediately wanted to take them back. Because the moment between us was so fun, so carefree, I realized how much I didn’t want the fact that I was essentially his hostage to shatter the spell.
Annnd I was ten shades of fucked up in the head for thinking that.
One side of Raul’s mouth kicked up. “I’d expect nothing less. I’m not jerking your chain on this, Bethy. It’s true. You’ll see.”
“So is that how you get by surfing here? A Loch Ness monster at the bottom of the lake creates waves for you? How does that lake-surfing compare to Stinson Beach in San Fran or Steamer Lane in Santa Cruz, huh?”
“Yeah, not exactly. Actually, I tend to teleport over to Playa Mariano to surf. If I want to stay close, that is. Sometimes I go to Lima. Or, you know, I might go all the way to Oahu or even Gold Coast or Jeffreys Bay.” His face still lit up whenever he talked about surfing, reminding me of the Raul he’d been growing up. “Teleporting does have its perks. Sometimes … I even go back to Santa Cruz to surf.”
“Really? How often have you been back to NoCal to surf?” I pulled my hand from his as I stopped and squatted down on my haunches to inspect a beautiful blue flower. “Oh, wow, is this a wild orchid?”
How often had he gone back to check on me, I really wanted to ask.
“It is. There are wild orchids all over around here.” He squatted down next to me, and the simple brush of his bare knee against mine caused my breath to come faster, my belly to tighten and tingle. “This mean you’ll stay? I think I can arrange for you to have orchids and Internet access twenty-four-seven.”
“But not my freedom?” I’d done it again. My cheeks burned as I met his eyes, and I couldn’t understand why. “I—I’m sorr—” I cringed as I realized I’d been half a breath away from apologizing, when I had no reason to be sorry. Something was clearly wrong with me.
Raul’s expression mirrored my thoughts. “Why the hell are you apologizing to me?”
Fuck if I knew. “I don’t know. Because I like you—I enjoy spending time with you. This is all so weird and fucked up, Raul, and yet I wish so badly that it wasn’t. I mean … this is madness what we’re doing right now.”
His smile was an arrow straight to my heart. “Isn’t that the way it’s supposed to go? When love is not madness, it is not love.”
It took effort to swallow as our eyes held and I tried to act casual. “Who said that? Shakespeare? Johnny Depp?”
Are you saying you love me?
I supposed that in a way he’d already implied as much. Several times. And yet he hadn’t made it clear: Was it the mating bond that he’d avoided for a decade driving his desire for me now, or was it genuine desire for me?
Was this love?
“No. Pedro Calderón de la Barca said it.”
Fancy. “Never knew you were into Spanish Baroque literature. Did you study world literature in college? I’m guessing you didn’t actually go to school for special education, did you?”
“Nah.” He ran a hand through his hair and reached out to pluck a long blade of grass. “I’ve just always read a lot. I never made it to college.” He sounded sad—maybe a little embarrassed—to admit it.
I was sure I’d heard Milena and her mom talking about Raul being offered scholarships to a number of colleges back in the day. He’d played and lettered in virtually every sport in high school. Often when I’d hung out over at Milena’s house as a kid, he’d be rushing in and out, always headed to some game or practice. I remembered Milena saying that he’d gotten great grades in school, too—complaining that he’d set the bar high for her with his former teachers.
“Didn’t you have scholarships? I seem to remember—”
“Yeah. I did.” He dropped the blade of grass he’d been twisting between his fingers and stood—apparently set on dropping the subject, too. “To answer your earlier question, Bethy, I haven’t been back to NoCal as much as I’d have liked in the past decade.” I knew he wasn’t talking about surfing anymore.
“Did you really have to stay away?” I squinted against the morning sun as I looked up at him. How desperate had he been to see me? Was resisting the mating bond as painful as Avery said? Would Gabe really have made a handbag out of me?
“I did.” He frowned down at me. “Why do you ask?”
Why did I ask? “No reason.” I stood as well, simultaneously attempting to mask and quell my pointless sense of disappointment.
What answer did I want from him, anyway?
I didn’t know. I only knew someth
ing was missing. Something he wasn’t sharing with me.
He cupped the side of my face in his hand before I could turn away. “Sometimes I wondered if you felt some small part of the mating bond pull, too. If it hurt you at all the way it did me.”
Was he asking if I’d thought about him in the decade since he’d shown up at my parents’ house trying to whisk me away to a surprise party in Argentina for Milena? Most definitely I had. Had those thoughts often sparked fantasies and masturbation sessions? Affirmative. Had I felt a gnawing ache in my gut and ongoing pain in my chest for more than a decade that I’d simply dismissed as stress when ulcer tests repeatedly came up negative? Fo’ sho.
But I chose not to share any of those things with him. Because he hadn’t outright asked. And I could hold cards to my chest, too, on occasion.
He’d confessed to me last night that the day he’d shown up at my parents’ house had been the moment his wolf had first recognized me as his true mate. Yet he was still looking at me now the same way he had then—his soulful brown eyes projecting so much internal conflict. Beckoning me closer while begging me to keep away. And I knew in my heart that I was missing something.
“Is there something you wanted to tell me?” I asked.
My heart fluttered in my throat when his lips parted and his gaze dropped to my neck. Slowly, his hand trailed down my face, following the path of his eyes, his fingertips lingering over my new scar.
I knew the moment he closed himself off to me, even before he shook his head and his fingers dropped from my throat to clasp my hand once more.
We began to pass werewolves, both in human and giant wolf form, as we drew nearer to the main estate. They displayed deference to Raul, while feigning courtesy to me. The closer we got, the more there were—including a lineup of big, hulking guard werewolves who looked like they could each easily fit half my torso in their mammoth jaws.
I tried to bear in mind Avery’s advice, but I couldn’t help but feel a little freaked out about the reality of my situation. Raul held my hand tighter, pulling me in to his side a little closer. But the only pointer he gave me was a whispered, “Meet their eyes. Don’t be afraid.”
