“We’ll get her in the event of a tie breaker, how’s that?” Callie asked him, her mouth twisting with impatience.
Jonathan grumbled under his breath.
Allerton took that to mean he had no serious objections and said, “All right then. All in favor of exiling Tobias Green for his role in the tragic accident that took the lives of Grey Owens and Elena Demetrius, raise their hands.”
Colin’s hand shot into the air. Pale but determined, Callie raised hers. She looked directly at me and I knew she’d voted for exile in an attempt to right the wrongs she’d done to me personally. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it, except that it stained my hands with the old man’s blood just as much as it stained hers.
Vaughn raised his hand next. He kept his head down, eyes fixed to the table.
I knew Jonathan would vote against, I wasn’t sure of Devon. I also knew Peter would vote against exile. His arms were folded across his chest and he made no move to raise his hand.
It wasn’t surprising he’d be lenient. He’d suffered the most during my interrogation. He’d been very reluctant to accept the idea I’d been drunk and I knew it had killed him to turn against me. He was the kind of man who found spiders in the house and brought them out to the backyard to free them. He fed the stray cats in the neighborhood even though none of them would allow him near. His wolf never killed anything—not a squirrel, not a rabbit. Hell, not even a beetle.
Now for the first time, I wondered if he’d voted against kicking me out when my fate had been put to the vote.
My heart slammed against my ribs even though I knew Grandfather’s Tobias’s real future.
“Oh, Lord,” cried Devon in an agony of indecision. But then suddenly, she put her hand up.
It was over then. Jonathan picked up his fork and threw it down on his plate.
Allerton still called for the nays and, rolling his eyes, Jonathan raised his hand. So did Peter. He wouldn’t look anywhere near my direction.
“Exile it is,” declared Allerton. “I’ll arrange for him to be taken to Florida. As of the date of the next birthday of a member of this pack, Tobias Green is no longer a member of Riverglow or any other pack and he cannot petition for membership in an existing pack, form his own, or bond with another person of the Great Pack for a period of two years. So be it by order of the Great Council, in concurrence with the New England Regional Council and by vote of the Riverglow pack of Connecticut.”
It wouldn’t become official on paper until the next birthday a pack member celebrated, but it was in effect with Allerton’s words. That’s how it had been with me.
They’d voted to kick me out of the pack and the official date had been Jonathan’s birthday, which fell in October. However, I left Connecticut three days after their vote. It hadn’t even been September yet. I’d stayed only as long as it had taken me to arrange the journey and clear the bank account.
Allerton and Kathy Manning got up and left the room together.
A moment of profound silence was broken by Jonathan, who said, “What a crock of shit. Hope you’re happy, Stanz, good going. You killed an old, senile man. What a coup.”
“She didn’t say a word.” Peter defended me.
Jonathan threw him a contemptuous look. “She didn’t have to. Just the fact she’s sitting here was influence enough. She was planted here so you idiots would turn against Grandfather Tobias all according to plan. You were played and you don’t even have the smarts to figure it out. Jesus. What a crock of shit.” He pushed back his chair, his handsome face flushed with bad temper.
He got to his feet and pointed a finger at me. “Hey, Stanz, you owe me eight hundred bucks. I had to repaint half the walls and ceilings in your goddamn house and steam clean the hell out of the carpets after you just walked out and left everything a friggin’ mess. As it was, I didn’t even get the deposit back from the landlord because you broke the goddamn lease. You had a hell of a nerve leaving it like that and you know it.”
That was typical. I was supposed to pay for the destruction of my own things. I’d cleaned up all the broken, destroyed belongings because I didn’t want any of them touching Grey’s things or Elena’s, even if they were ruined. But I admit I did nothing to attempt to clean the ketchup and mustard stains off the walls, ceilings and carpets. And I’d broken the lease? Why? Because I’d been kicked out by him and the rest of the pack and forced to leave the state.
Before I could say all the scathing things I wanted, Murphy was on his feet and everyone, especially Jonathan, braced for violence.
All Murphy did was take his wallet out of his back pocket. He pulled out a sheaf of bills and began to count them out.
Although I argued against it, Murphy always had at least a thousand dollars in cash on hand. I don’t know why he refused to use credit cards like normal people. Or at least get a debit card. Murphy insisted on cash.
So I wasn’t surprised when he came up with eight hundred dollars, although the rest of them were a bit flabbergasted. It made Murphy look a little arrogant, but I’m sure he didn’t give a shit.
“Eight hundred, you said?” Murphy walked to Jonathan’s side of the table and extended the cash. Jonathan took it.
“Now you can shut the fuck up, you greedy bastard.” Murphy’s Irish brogue was very much in evidence and I knew that meant he was pissed off.
Jonathan flushed, his mouth open as if he were about to say something, but Colin Hunter spoke first. His voice was full of amused derision.
“Well, I see you’re still the same old Liam Murphy, buying the affections of your bond mate because you can’t get them any other way.”
After a split second of appalled silence where nobody knew what to do or say, Murphy sprang into violent motion.
Colin Hunter’s chair crashed to the floor and him with it, Murphy on top of him, fists flying.
Devon Talbot screamed. Her wine glass smashed on the floor. Wine splashed on my legs and little shards of glass nicked my skin. I sat there like an idiot with blood running down my legs while Murphy and Colin rolled around on the floor, their fists connecting with each other’s bodies and faces making wet, meaty splats.
“What the hell is this shit?” Jonathan had an incredulous half grin as he watched the fight.
Cursing beneath his breath, Peter shoved back his chair and Vaughn reacted too, following his cue. The two of them waded into the middle of the fight, each choosing a combatant.
Peter ended up with Murphy, his muscles straining to keep Murphy’s arms twisted behind his back with one hand while he wrapped his other arm around Murphy’s chest and pushed one of his legs between Murphy’s to keep him off balance.
Vaughn used his arms to pin Colin Hunter’s against his side, and braced his legs so that even though Colin struggled to lunge at Murphy, he didn’t get far. He murmured a steady stream of phrases like, “Take it easy,” and “It’s all over, Col,” into Colin Hunter’s ear. I wasn’t sure Colin was listening. Instead he was smirking triumphantly in Murphy’s direction, pleased as hell he’d provoked such a violent response. His nose was bleeding.
Murphy’s lips were pulled back from his teeth in a vicious snarl. His dark eyes were wild with rage, and it took all of Peter’s considerable strength to hold him back even though Peter outweighed Murphy by a good forty pounds.
He had a bloody abrasion high on his left cheek—the result of Colin Hunter’s ring and his lower lip was split, also courtesy of the ring.
Blood ran down his chin and he wiped it away, his expression murderous.
“It’s over.” Allerton strode into the room trailed by Kathy Manning. His eyes were icy cold with anger and shock. Her face was pale.
Murphy spat a bloody wad of spittle in Colin Hunter’s direction.
“We need to leave,” said Callie in a high-pitched tone. Her dismayed gaze traveled around the room. “All of us. Right now.”
Allerton stepped close to Murphy and Peter.
After a last shake, Peter let go and every
one waited to see if Murphy would lunge at Colin Hunter. He stood there, furious and deadly, chest heaving, but he didn’t make a move.
Vaughn kept an arm around Colin Hunter’s shoulders as he half-pushed, half-escorted him out into the hallway.
Someone went upstairs to get Nora. There were noises of people putting on coats and saying awkward goodbyes to Kathy Manning, who played hostess and saw them out.
I sat paralyzed in my chair, the fire burning my back. Allerton stayed with Murphy, who showed no signs of calming until the door had closed behind the last of the Riverglow pack and Kathy Manning returned to the room.
He relaxed slightly, the tension in his shoulders loosening, but his chest still heaved as if he couldn’t take a deep enough breath to fill his lungs and his eyes were full of hectic murder.
He scared me. I knew I should go to him. Kathy Manning looked at me as if surprised to see me still sitting half a room away. Allerton was angry and disgusted—I could smell both those emotions from him and felt bad for Murphy but was also scared and very confused.
What had Colin Hunter meant by his words buying the affections of Murphy’s bond mates? What did he know that I didn’t? What was Murphy hiding?
“You know it was quite a step down for him to join Riverglow, Liam.” Allerton gave a great sigh and paced to the bookcases on the far wall. He ran his finger along the spines of some hardcovers on a lower shelf and shook his head.
“Truth be told, he didn’t really have much of a choice. His Alphas wanted him out of the pack, but Devon wouldn’t bond with him unless he was a member of Mac Tire.”
“So they let him stay in, big friggin’ deal,” said Murphy, his voice bitter. But it was a big deal.
“Only until the Great Gathering. Then he was told he needed to find a new pack. He joined Riverglow to have a shot at being Alpha. So he could keep Devon. Sound familiar?” Allerton swung around, eyes blazing. I’d never see him so angry and that scared the shit out of me even more than Murphy’s rage. “Because it should!”
“You have a lot of influence within Mac Tire, Liam, and he has...Riverglow.”
Murphy was unmoved.
Allerton watched him for moment. “You let him get to you. I’m disappointed.”
“You didn’t hear what he said,” Murphy snarled, fists clenched at his sides. The knuckles of his right hand were bruised and bloody.
“I didn’t need to, to understand that you let a man far beneath your status provoke you into violence in front of his entire pack. Pathetic, Liam.”
Murphy looked like he wanted to spit again.
“He has no status because of your influence. Surely you can appreciate that and let that be your revenge. Do you really need to get into a fistfight over a remark, however inflammatory?”
“You have a hand in it?” Murphy demanded, his mouth tight. “In Riverglow, of all bloody packs for him to end up?”
Allerton glared at him. “I won’t even dignify that with an answer.”
Murphy gave a bark of contemptuous laughter. “You did, then. First you throw me and Stanzie together and then you put Colin Hunter in her old pack. You’ve got us all on strings, dancing to your tune, don’tcha?” He did not look at Allerton, instead he glared at the fireplace. Or maybe me.
“You try my patience tonight, Liam,” Allerton ground out.
I couldn’t breathe and little black spots began to whirl around my head in a maddening, sickening swirl.
Murphy did turn to him then, his face cold. “I’ve played along with it, Councilor, but I’m telling you right now I’m nobody’s puppet. I’ll be your Advisor, but I’ll not be your puppet. Is that clear?”
“Crystal,” said Allerton and I shivered because I’d never seen his eyes so steely and mercilessly remote.
He left the room and, after a moment, so did Kathy Manning.
To keep myself busy and distracted, I began to stack the plates. Murphy found his napkin, dipped it in his water glass and dabbed experimentally at his lower lip, wincing because it hurt. He was still glassy-eyed with rage, but was simmering down.
After a while he threw down his napkin with an Irish oath and helped me stack the dishes.
We brought them into the kitchen, loaded the dishwasher, started it, and because not all the dishes could fit, we left a sinkful of them soaking in soapy water.
Murphy followed me upstairs. A dim hall light burned. The door to the master suite was shut and a pencil thin line of light gleamed from beneath it. The doors to the bedrooms closest to the master suite were both closed. One, Grandfather Tobias’s room, appeared dark. The other, where Kathy Manning presumably slept, had light beneath the crack in the door.
As I shrugged off my bolero jacket, I went into the room I shared with Murphy. He followed, shut the door behind him and locked it for good measure.
So far we hadn’t said a word to each other.
The clock on the nightstand read 11:22 PM. I was exhausted and numb. I took my pajamas into the bathroom and put them on before scrubbing the makeup off my face.
When I came out, pulling the clips and bobby pins out of my hair, Murphy stood by the window in a pair of gray flannel drawstring pants and a white, long-sleeved thermal t-shirt. Both buttons at his throat were undone and I could see the gleam of the silver chain and pendant around his throat.
Blood was crusted on his lip and the abrasion on his cheek looked raw and painful.
As I crawled onto the bed, I moved the quilt I’d spread over Nora. Beneath it I discovered a small, red leather book.
With a frown, I picked it up and realized it was not a book, but a photo album.
I flipped it open at random and a photo of a laughing Elena standing in our old kitchen in New Britain confronted me. The breath hissed out of me as if I’d been punched. She had a beer in one hand. Her long white-blond hair spilled over one shoulder, leaving the other bare save for the spaghetti strap of the yellow-and-pink flowered sundress she wore.
Summer barbeque. I’d taken the picture. Grey had been out on the back deck with most of the rest of pack, grilling steaks. Elena had scooped the bottle of beer out of a red plastic cooler filled with ice that I’d dumped in there myself, an hour and half before everyone was supposed to arrive. One Saturday in July, five or six years ago.
“What’s wrong?” Murphy asked.
I couldn’t stop staring at Elena’s laughing face. Her eyes were so blue, her smile so bright and sincere.
“I’d forgotten I’d given Nora copies,” I whispered. “The originals got destroyed with everything else. I never thought I’d see her again except in dreams and my memory.” I looked up at Murphy, who stared at me, clearly affected. “Look, it’s Elena. Wasn’t she beautiful?”
He came to sit on the edge of the mattress beside me so he could see the photo.
“Very.” He watched me reverently trace the outlines of Elena’s face beneath the protective plastic sleeve.
Bottom lip between my teeth, I turned the page and almost couldn’t see for the burning tears in my eyes.
Grey and I, arms wrapped around each other, stood on a beach in Rhode Island. It was the same summer as the barbeque, maybe a month later. I had on a black string bikini I’d forgotten I’d ever owned and my hair was down to my waist in a messy, sun-streaked braid. Grey was in a bright blue pair of knee-length swim trunks and his hair was loose around his face. He was tanned dark by the sun and there was sand on the tops of his bare feet and clinging to the light dusting of hair on his legs. A smear of it on his elbow. He’d been playing volleyball with Peter, Vaughn, Elena and me, while Callie and Nora sunbathed on yellow towels spread out just above the surf line and Jonathan swam like a seal in the bay. We’d played guys against girls and even though there were three of them and only two of us, Elena and I had kicked their asses.
Grey stared at the camera—Elena had been behind it. I had my face turned to look at him and we both looked so damned happy it hurt to even try to remember. I didn’t think it was even possible
for me to be that happy anymore. That ability was lost, smashed to bits in blood and glass and twisted metal the night of my thirtieth birthday.
Beside me, Murphy smiled wistfully.
“You two look so happy together,” he said and I could hear the little twist of jealousy in his voice.
“We had ten years,” I mused, “and we were just as happy together at the end as we were at the beginning. It was almost like every day was the first day we’d ever met. Sounds stupid, doesn’t it?”
“Not at all.” He sighed. He kept his head down, staring at the quilt bunched up beside me on the bed. “I suppose you’ve figured out that Sorcha and I...we weren’t like that.”
I closed the photo album so I could think. I definitely couldn’t do that when Grey’s laughing face stared up at me. The minute I couldn’t see him anymore, I felt bereft and alone, almost like it was that awful time just after the accident when I’d expected to see him around every corner, in every car that slowed near my house, in every face of every man with long dark hair I saw from a distance.
“Well,” I began slowly, “Colin said you had to buy her affections and Allerton said you ought to be familiar with the idea of becoming Alpha to keep your bond mate from leaving you. So I guess I’m wondering if that’s true or if I’m totally fucking it up.”
“You’re not fucking it up. It’s true enough,” he confirmed. Something died inside me at his words because I hadn’t wanted to believe.
Still staring at the quilt instead of me, Murphy told me their story. “I met her down the pub when I was twenty-two and she was twenty-five. She was visiting from the Mac Tire branch in Northern Ireland. Her pack had sent her to mingle with us because she was getting on for not having a bond mate. I saw her sitting there by the fire, her red hair like a halo around her head, and I was gone on her, Stanzie. I knew right then and there she was the one. She didn’t exactly see it that way herself, but I used all my charm and I convinced her to give me a shot. She was under pressure to bond as it was, and I wouldn’t let anyone else near her and me. Da was on the Regional Council and so, you know, I was something of a coup, I suppose.” Murphy’s voice was full of self mockery, but when he talked about her, his eyes lit up with old remembered passion.
Scratch the Surface (Wolf Within) Page 9
