What A Wolf Dares (Lux Catena Series Book 2)

by Amy Pennza

  The knowledge was like a jolt of courage. She put her shoulders back. “Yes. I’m okay.”

  Approval flared in his eyes. “All right. Follow me.”

  She stepped through the double doors. Thick patterned carpet stretched an impossible distance to a large, ornate desk. Her father and Hamish Benton sat in two leather chairs positioned at angles in front of it. Brilliant morning sunshine poured through a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows.

  Neither Alpha rose as she and Max approached, nor did they offer her a seat when Max rounded the desk and sat.

  That didn’t surprise her. Alphas weren’t interested in courtesy or other people’s comfort. They cared about power.

  She stopped just behind their chairs. “Father.” She lowered her gaze in a gesture of respect.

  Samuel Gregory wasted no time on pleasantries. “You smell like Remy Arsenault. Why is that?”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “I…” She met his gaze. Brown eyes identical to her own stared back at her. Her father’s face was youthful, but there was something about him that betrayed his age. Humans probably wouldn’t notice it. They were generally fooled by appearances, and they’d see a blond, striking man in his early thirties. But other wolves knew an old wolf when they saw one. The weight of experience was impossible to conceal.

  “Well?” he demanded. “I already know the answer, but I want to hear you say it.”

  She lifted her chin. “I have nothing to say about Remy.”

  Hamish leaned forward. “I think my son might have something to say about his wife sleeping with another male.”

  “I’m not his wife.” The words flew from her mouth before she could stop them.

  Hamish narrowed his eyes. Like her father, he was approaching ninety. Unlike Samuel Gregory, age had settled more heavily on his shoulders. Gray threaded the dark brown strands on his head, and fine lines bracketed his mouth. Her mother always said happiness was the fountain of youth. If that was true, Hamish was a deeply unhappy person.

  “A technicality,” he said, menace in his tone. He looked at her father. “And one that can be easily remedied.”

  Samuel nodded. “Absolutely.”

  They were talking about forcing her to have sex with Asher—discussing her like she was nothing more than a piece of meat to be trussed and delivered to its new owner.

  Her gut churned, but she shook her head. “I won’t do it.”

  “You’ll do as you’re told,” Hamish said. “There’s a first time for everything.” He smiled, as if he’d made a joke.

  She faced her father. “I won’t go back there.” Tears pricked her eyes. She bit the inside of her cheek. She wasn’t giving either of them the satisfaction of seeing her cry. “If you force me back, I’ll run again. I swear on everything holy, Father, I won’t complete the lux catena with Asher Benton.”

  “You will if we have a public bedding.”

  Her breath seized in her throat. How was it possible that he sat in this beautiful room flooded with sunshine, discussing ritual rape like it was nothing more than part of a contract? She’d always been a disappointment to him. First, she’d made the mistake of being born a girl. Growing up, she’d proved herself a lousy werewolf—bad at fighting, bad at the hunt. She didn’t have the looks or figure to secure a good alliance for her pack.

  But did he really hate her that much? Now a tear escaped, leaving a hot trail down her cheek. “You’d do that to me? I’m your daughter.”

  Her father’s expression was chilling. “One who has brought shame on me and my territory.”

  Max spoke, his voice low and silky. “I think we’re all forgetting something, gentleman.”

  The two Alphas jumped, almost as if they’d forgotten he was there.

  “Sophie is my wolf,” he said. “I granted her sanctuary last night. She goes nowhere without my permission.” He lifted his shoulders in a gesture of regret. “I’m afraid I don’t grant her permission to leave the territory.” He paused, then dropped the conciliatory tone. “And you can be damn certain there will be no public bedding ceremony in New York. Not while I’m Alpha.”

  Hamish gripped the sides of his chair. “Then maybe it’s time for a new Alpha.”

  Max showed his teeth—a quick gesture that temporarily betrayed the fury under his seeming calm. “You threaten me in my own home?”

  “The threats started here,” Sophie’s father said. “When you took that half-breed to mate.”

  Lizette? Sophie looked between her father and Hamish. They were mad about Lizette?

  “I’ll thank you not to insult my wife,” Max said. His eyes glowed, and a bit of fang showed between his lips.

  Hamish growled. “She insults all of us by Turning latents.” He slapped the arm of his chair. “There’s a reason some of us don’t Turn. It’s the way things have always been. The strong survive, and the weak get culled from the race.”

  Sophie closed her eyes. It would be nice if Hamish’s attitude was old-fashioned or in the minority. But it wasn’t. Werewolves prized strength, almost to the point of worship. Lizette’s Bloodsinger ability allowed latents to make the Turn when they otherwise wouldn’t. Wolves like Hamish and her father saw that as an abomination.

  Max sat back in his chair. “How many babies were born in your territory last year, Gregory?”

  Sophie’s father frowned. “What?”

  “How many births,” Max said. “How many of your mated pairs managed to reproduce?”

  Her father scoffed. “I know where you’re going with this. The solution to our population problem isn’t diluting the race with weak blood.” He shot a scornful look at Sophie. “Or pairing off with wolves with useless Gifts.”

  Her hackles rose. “Remy’s Gift isn’t useless. It’s beautiful.”

  Hamish raked her with a shaming glare. “Spoken like a slut.”

  She sucked in a breath. “How dare you—”

  “You dare!” He stood and took a menacing step toward her. “You dare with every word that comes out of your lying, unfaithful mouth!”

  Instinct urged her to back away, but she held her ground. If she cowered in front of this man, she’d lose all of his respect. Not that she had much now. If she’d wondered where Asher got his cruelty from, she didn’t anymore. It shouldn’t surprise her that Hamish Benton was just as malicious and mean-spirited as his son.

  But her father…

  He sat in his chair, seemingly content to watch Hamish threaten her. If their conversation over the past five minutes was any indication, he was also perfectly happy to see her stripped and mated against her will in public by a man who had systematically abused her.

  Tears gathered in her eyes. “Father?”

  He stood and checked his watch, his movements casual—as if they’d just finished a working lunch and he needed to stay on top of his schedule. “You have twenty-four hours, Sophie.”

  “For what?” Her tone was disrespectful, but she didn’t care.

  Now, he let the nonchalant mask slip. “To go back to your husband,” he snapped.

  She drew a trembling breath. “I told you—”

  “And I told you,” he said. “I made it very clear.” He ticked items off his fingers, a gesture she’d seen him make a thousand times. It was a favorite tactic of his, strong-arming his wolves into complying with his wishes. “You go back to your husband and lay with him willingly, or you wait for us to force you back and finish the lux catena in a public bedding. Either way, you will do your duty.”

  Max rose behind his desk. He braced both palms on the surface and leaned forward. “Sophie has a third option. She stays here, under the full protection of my wolves and my authority.” He caught her eye and smiled. “In short, she does whatever the fuck she wants.”

  A tremor of amusement burst through the anxiety swirling in her stomach. Her father and Hamish were much less intimidating when Max decided to let his power off its chain. Whatever happened, she had him on her side. She returned his smile.

  Her f
ather’s gaze drifted from her to Max. “Sophie is certainly free to make that decision.” He looked at her, and his next words were deliberate. “If she does, however, she’ll be singlehandedly responsible for bringing war to this territory.”

  She froze. His brown eyes held her prisoner. “Are you really that selfish, Sophie? To put your lover at risk? Remy Arsenault is a Telepath.” Her father clucked his tongue. “He’s a formidable enough Hunter, but his Gift doesn’t stand a chance against my wolves in full battle. And, of course, he’d be the first of many casualties.”

  Behind the desk, Max growled long and low in his throat.

  Her father looked at him. “If it’s a war you want, Simard, we’re happy to oblige.” He gestured at Hamish and started for the door. Hamish fell in beside him. They brushed past her like she was nothing more than a plant or a piece of furniture.

  She stared at the carpet in front of Max’s desk, her body numb.

  Her father’s voice reached her from the door. “Twenty-four hours, Sophie. I trust you’ll make the right decision.”

  17

  Well, this was a happy little gathering.

  Remy looked around at the wolves from the Pennsylvania and Vermont Territories. After Sophie disappeared into Max’s study, Gunnar pulled Allen aside and had a low, intense conversation with him—the one-sided kind, which meant Gunnar probably told him to sit down and stop being a dick.

  Or something to that effect.

  Whatever he said, it worked, because Allen retreated to the far side of the seating area and developed a sudden fascination with the fireplace. He hadn’t so much as glanced in Remy’s direction.

  Coward. He was too young for a Beta, especially one like Hamish. From what Remy knew of the Vermont Alpha, he was a tough old goat who didn’t take crap off anyone. But no Alpha could rule alone—at least not effectively. Every leader needed someone to challenge him. Allen had done the right thing by listening to Gunnar. At the same time, however, he’d shown every wolf in the great hall he didn’t have the balls to follow through on a challenge.

  Remy put his feet on the low table in front of him and crossed his ankles. A chunk of mud fell from his boot to the wooden surface.

  “Lizette’s going to make you clean that up,” Dom said from the chair next to him.

  Remy raised an eyebrow. “She’ll have to prove it’s mine.”

  “You’re the only one stupid enough to leave mud on her table.”

  “I’m—”

  The study doors opened, and Samuel Gregory and Hamish Benton emerged.

  Remy and the other wolves stood. The Alphas walked to the seating area and stopped. Sophie’s father nodded to Gunnar.

  “I’ve given my daughter my orders. She’s got twenty-four hours to decide if she’s going to comply. In the meantime, inform our Hunters to gather at the border.”

  Gunnar bowed his head. “Yes, Alpha.”

  Remy looked between them. What orders?

  Samuel Gregory’s gaze fell on him. “I must admit, Arsenault, your tastes are much broader than I thought. I didn’t think Sophie was quite your type.”

  Allen snickered. Hamish glared at him, and he clamped his mouth shut.

  “My type?” Remy held Gregory’s stare. Who cared if it was a breach in protocol? As far as he was concerned, a man who sold his daughter to someone like Asher Benton didn’t deserve to be called Alpha.

  Eyes as soft and brown as Sophie’s raked down his body with a dismissive sweep, as if weighing him and finding him wanting. “Although,” he said, his voice thoughtful, “I guess a man like you doesn’t really have a type. You’ll stick your cock in whatever’s convenient.”

  Remy’s fangs punched through his gums, filling his mouth with the taste of pennies.

  Gregory glared. “I warn you now, if you insist on being stupid about this, Sophie will turn out to be the biggest inconvenience of your life.” He snapped his fingers, and Gunnar and the other Hunters sprang to attention. “Twenty-four hours,” he told the group. He motioned to Hamish, and then walked to the massive wooden entry doors, Hamish’s and his wolves on his heels.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Dom’s voice said in Remy’s head.

  Remy looked at him. “I’m not thinking about it. I’m planning it.”

  Dom shook his head.

  One of the New York Hunters waited until the doors closed behind Sophie’s father before muttering, “What a prick.”

  Remy opened his mouth to agree when a black blur emerged from Max’s study and raced toward them. Before he could make out what it was, Sophie stopped at the edge of the seating area. A second later, a rush of vanilla swirled around him.

  The scent calmed the wolf. Remy started toward her, but she put up a hand.

  “No.” She looked toward the entry doors. The sun spilled over her face, highlighting the tracks of tears on her cheeks.

  What the… Anger exploded in his gut. “What happ—”

  “He’s going to start a war,” she said, facing him. Her voice broke. “I have to go back.”

  “What?” He stepped toward her again, but she stumbled back, the wolf’s normal grace deserting her.

  “Don’t!” She shook her head. “I can’t stay here, Remy. I want to…” She gulped, and a tear streaked down her face. “I really do. But it’ll mean hurting you. All of you.”

  Dom put out his palms like he was trying to calm a spooked animal. “Sophie, calm down. What did your father say?”

  Her face crumpled, and a knife twisted in Remy’s heart. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I can’t talk about this right now.” Without warning, she drew on her Gift again, moving so quickly she was nothing more than a blur of black and gold.

  Remy pushed past Dom and started after her, but she was out the door and gone before he reached the entryway. He yanked open the door and raced down the front steps of the Lodge.

  “Remy!” Dom and the Hunters gathered behind him.

  How had she moved that fast? He turned in a slow circle. Where the hell had she gone?

  Max emerged from the Lodge and jogged lightly down the steps. His expression was a mix of anger and concern.

  “What the hell happened in there?” Remy’s heart pounded.

  Max’s chest lifted in a sigh. “Gregory gave her twenty-four hours to go back to Asher.” He hesitated.

  “Or?”

  “Or he and Hamish will attack.”

  Remy shrugged. “So we fight.”

  “You think she’ll risk that?” Max’s gaze was searching. “Even if we win, there will be casualties.”

  So what? The words almost jumped from his mouth, but he clamped his jaw shut. Would she really let the New York Territory go to war over her? Before the thought even fully formed in his mind, he knew the answer.

  She wouldn’t.

  Sophie wouldn’t put anyone at risk for her own benefit—even if it meant leaving him and returning to a man who could never love her.

  Not like he could.

  The realization crashed over him like waves. He loved her. He loved her, he was in love with her. He’d been in love with her since that day by the cars.

  “Remy?” Max put a hand on his arm.

  “Sorry,” he murmured. “Having a revelation here.”

  Understanding lit Max’s gaze. Of course he understood. He’d been in love with Lizette for years. Had it hit him like this, too?

  “Exactly like this,” Max said, a little smile playing around his mouth.

  Remy realized he’d spoken out loud. He gulped. “Where is she?”

  Max closed his eyes and furrowed his brow, clearly listening. His Seeker ability wasn’t as strong as his primary Gift, but his hearing was still better than that of most wolves.

  After a second, Max opened his eyes. “In the forest on the other side of the gorge. Straight ahead, about half a mile.”

  “Jesus, she’s fast,” Remy said, already stripping out of his clothes.

  “It’s one of the reasons Hamish wanted her
for Asher. She’s a top-notch Finder.” His voice dropped to a growl. “Even though her father would die before he admitted it.”

  “Well, who cares what he thinks.” Remy tossed his jeans and T-shirt to one side of the steps. He dropped to all fours and lowered his head, letting the beginnings of the Turn take him. His jaw throbbed. An ache spread across the bones in his face. Tiny hammers pummeled the sides of his head. He gritted his teeth and stared at his hands—anything to distract him from the agony in his skull. The Turn wasn’t normally this painful, but then again, he didn’t usually rush through it this quickly.

  His fingers swelled, his joints turning an ugly red. A million tiny hairs sprouted from his flesh, dotting the backs of his hands like a miniature forest. The vertebrae in his spine popped, lengthening and curving.

  Max dropped to one knee beside him. “There’s something else, Remy,” his voice soft. “If she doesn’t return to Vermont within twenty-four hours, her father and Hamish are going to force her into a public bedding ceremony.”

  Remy lifted his head. No, his snout. As his body finished forming into the wolf, he opened his jaws, threw back his head, and howled.

  * * *

  The howl echoed through the forest, the sound vibrating up and down Sophie’s spine.

  She skidded to a stop in a clearing, her breaths sawing in and out of her chest. Sweat slicked her skin, molding the tank top to her breasts and belly. Hopefully, Remy had a decent washer and dryer—

  She jerked her head, as if she could dislodge the thought from her mind. It didn’t matter if Remy had a nice laundry room. Because she couldn’t stay with him. It was either accept her fate and go back to Vermont or watch while wolves from two territories invaded New York and tried to kill the man she loved.

  Her breath caught in her throat. Loved? Tears flooded her eyes, and she sank to her knees.

  Loved. She loved Remy. When had that happened? Hot tears rolled down her cheeks and splashed against the dead leaves on the forest floor.

  “The first day,” she whispered. She’d loved him the moment they met, when he told her everything was all right.