by Rose, Callie
It speaks volumes. Volumes I really don’t fucking understand.
Her tears and sniffles have slowed. I pull back just enough to tilt her chin up with a finger so that our gazes meet. Moonlight washes over her face, turning her into a silver ray of light with big, sad eyes that touch me to my core.
“None of us want to hurt you,” I murmur softly, sliding my other hand between us so that I can entwine our fingers. I lift her knuckles to my lips. “We’ll figure this out. Without fighting.”
Someone growls. Probably fucking Trystan again, though to be fair, Ridge isn’t looking at Dare with any level of respect right now either.
I get it. We’re all suspicious, all angry with each other for being in the way of what feels like the most natural thing in the world to us—our bond with Sable.
Regardless, I know they’re capable of putting her first, and I’m not going to let them forget it.
Sable’s fingers open inside mine so that she can touch the side of my face. It’s such a sweet gesture, and her wide-eyed gaze is completely innocent of the effect she has on me, but she’s so damn beautiful it makes me wish I was more feral like Dare. More willing to close the space between us and take her lips as if they belong to me.
Because I’m certain they do.
I let my gaze drop to that perfect, red cupid’s bow of her mouth, and I imagine what she would taste like. Bad idea though, as desire shoots straight down between my legs before I can look at Trystan and wash away the heated thoughts with how much he irritates me.
Sable’s breath hitches, and she releases my hand before pushing away from me. She’s just realized she’s hugging a naked man, because the naked man couldn’t keep it down in her presence.
Goddammit.
I do my fucking best to be the bigger man, to be the better man, and in the end, I’m ruled by my dick no more or less than any of these other shifters.
I glance at Dare. “Come on, man. You better come inside. We should get dressed.”
23
Sable
The five of us troop into the cabin, Ridge at the head of our little group. I hang back in the living room while the men go to the bedroom to dig clothes out of the packs. Thank God for that—I’m on naked man overload.
My fingers are still shaking as I locate a box of wood matches and light the few candles scattered around the living room. Ridge will probably protest and say we can afford to turn on the generator for this, but I don’t want the harsh overhead light right now. I want to hide in the flickering shadows and come down from whatever the hell that was.
I’m on edge, my mind whirling and trying to come to grips with what just happened. The sudden emotional crashes back to back, from desire to fear to anger to despair, left me an emotional pile of hormones. I want to go crawl back into bed and pretend none of this ever happened.
But the way Dare kissed me…
Jesus, it was like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. The whole thing should have terrified me, sent me running for the cabin or screaming for help. I should have hated it, hated his hands on me, hated the way he dominated me.
Instead, I’m still craving him. Craving more of him, while simultaneously wondering what Ridge’s skin would feel like under my fingers. How Trystan’s mouth would taste, hot and wet on my lips. How agonizingly torturous Archer’s hands would be on the most secret parts of my body…
Dare has cracked open something inside me, some kind of deep need I can’t quite come to terms with.
The men all return together, trooping from the bedroom with comically identical looks on their faces. Ridge and Archer have covered up completely with shirts and sweats, but Trystan and Dare have left their chests bare and I’m pretty certain they’re having some kind of manly, my muscles are prettier than yours face off.
I can’t even pretend to understand men. Especially not when I’ve lost all comprehension of myself.
My three companions take positions around me on the couch and matching armchair, while Dare stands near the door as if preparing to run, should the need arise. Considering the way Ridge, Trystan, and Archer banded together to destroy him in the yard, I can hardly blame him. He’s the new guy, the new competition, and as far as they’re concerned he doesn’t belong.
I know otherwise.
When I lock gazes with Dare, he’s looking at me with intense, hungry eyes, broadcasting how much he wishes we could have finished what we started. He certainly doesn’t seem regretful or sorry about what happened.
Honestly, I can’t say that I am either.
Looking away from his dark eyes, I take a couple more breaths. If I have to breathe any deeper or harder to ground myself, I’m going to pass out.
Ridge leans on the arm of the couch and levels his calculating gaze on Dare. “What were you doing out this way?”
“Patrolling,” Dare says shortly. Inside the cabin, his voice booms, even deeper than I realized outside. “Hunting for a witch who’s been sniffing around the boundaries.” His gaze cut to me. “I was nearby when I caught Sable’s scent. I followed it to her, and my wolf felt the mate bond.”
Trystan groans, laying his head back on the edge of the couch, but Ridge says, “It’s not your job to patrol the boundaries.”
“No, it’s not,” Archer adds, his brow wrinkled with annoyance. “What happens when you get yourself killed?”
Fury rises on Dare’s face, and he crosses his arms, glaring at each man in turn. “If the packs were doing a better job of fighting the witch threat, I wouldn’t feel the need to patrol.”
“We’re doing all we can,” Ridge argues.
“Then why are your wolves dying?”
Four voices rise in anger as they start arguing and talking over one another.
“You’re all completely unaware of how bad things are!” Dare roars, pointing at them. “Your sheltered fucking pack life, completely out of touch with how bad things are getting—”
“Hey, fuck you,” Trystan snaps, leaping up from the couch with his hands balled into fists.
The yelling gets louder.
There was a time when Trystan’s looming show of brute force would have sent me spiraling into a panic attack. And for a moment, his giant hands curled into weapons do raise a hint of terror in me. But I do what Archer always tells me—deep breaths, in and out, until the sight of Trystan’s fists don’t alarm me anymore.
I don’t get why they’re all so worked up over this. Clearly, the witches are a threat, and they all already work together for the good of the entire local shifter nation. Why is it such a bad thing that Dare was patrolling?
There’s too much energy in this room. Too much “alpha” and not enough logical thought.
“Hey!” I blurt, my voice almost falling flat under the rise in volume. I raise my tone that much more and shout, “Knock it off!”
The cabin goes silent. All four men look at me as if they’re surprised to learn my voice can get that loud.
“What on earth is going on?” I say, looking around at them all and trying not to blush under their combined gazes. “You’re all on the same team here. Why are you ganging up on Dare?”
Trystan, still looming over the couch with dislike twisting his facial expression, sighs. “Dare was the alpha of the South Pack—before it was splintered and destroyed by witches.”
“What?” My voice drops to a whisper.
“It happened a few years ago. They must’ve planned it for months. It wiped out most of the pack and sent the survivors fleeing into the mountains.” Ridge speaks evenly, but his controlled tone only serves to highlight the awfulness of his words.
I blink several times, absorbing this new—and alarming—information.
Dare’s entire pack was destroyed by witches?
I look at the black-haired man for confirmation, hoping he’ll tell me that Trystan’s just being an asshole. That Ridge is just exaggerating or making things sound worse than they really are. But for the first time in the short time Dare has been arou
nd me, he doesn’t have that wild, cocky confidence in his expression.
He looks haunted.
Pained.
It’s true. Witches eliminated his entire pack, leaving him all alone.
I cover my mouth, tears pricking my eyes. That horrible expression on his face makes my heart ache. I want to go to him, to fix him, to heal him somehow from that level of hurt. He’s all alone in the world, and clearly carrying an insane amount of guilt and heartache.
Before I can make a decision to get up and cross to him, he turns away from us all. I watch, heartbroken, as he shakes his head and appears to be gathering himself from the depths of his emotions.
“The reason I patrol,” he says, voice soft and dangerous as he speaks over his shoulder, “is because what happened to my pack could happen again. It is my privilege to hunt the witches and protect my race.”
My heart twists at the raw tone of his voice. I know I’m in the dark on a lot of things regarding the history of the packs and the witch threat, but Dare’s situation brings the horrifying truth to light. An entire pack destroyed…
How is that even possible?
And are the other packs in danger of the same thing?
Ridge and Archer exchange glances that are weighed down with concern. Even Trystan, who clearly doesn’t like Dare, looks like he wishes he hadn’t said anything. They’re either concerned about Dare being out there on his own hunting the witches, or they’re concerned he’s carrying the weight of it all too heavily. Maybe both.
I have those same thoughts. Dare, come what may, is still my possible mate, and the five of us are now like a strange little family. I can’t stand aside and let him go back out there. What if he truly is my mate? And I just let him go get killed without giving our bond a proper chance?
“You can stay with us,” I say, before anyone has a chance to speak.
Trystan growls. “I hardly think that’s—”
“Dare can stay here.” My voice gains a little strength, and I square my shoulders. “He’s no different than any of you. His wolf sees me as his mate too.”
Trystan’s face is thunderous, and he remains looming over the couch, fists clenched, though he doesn’t make a move anywhere. Ridge casts a wary look at Dare, but then sinks back against the couch cushions with a sigh.
Archer seems to be the only man who’s truly accepting of this turn of events. I’m glad to have at least one logical shifter on my side.
Dare meets my gaze, and I can tell he’s torn. As he told us, he feels a duty to hunt the witches, and I totally get that. Especially since he said he was in the middle of tracking one when he caught scent of me. But the longer our gazes hold, the more heated and intense his expression grows.
He’s remembering what happened on the bank of the stream. Just like I am.
“All right,” he says stiffly. “I’ll stay.”
A flood of relief makes my stomach flutter, the reaction stronger than I expected. I didn’t realize how nervous I was that Dare might not stay until he agreed not to leave.
Now he’s staring at me with a look so intense it feels like my clothes might actually catch fire, and an overwhelming heat flushes through me. This night has been too much. Too many intense emotions, new revelations, and unanswered questions crammed into just a few hours have left me reeling.
Casting a look around the room, I stand up and stretch. “Um… it’s late. We should all get some sleep. Do you think you guys can handle sharing a room?”
“We’ll be fine,” Ridge assures me. I believe him—he’ll do what’s best for all of us, even if he hates every minute along the way.
The bedroom is cool and dark as I slip beneath the covers again. I wasn’t lying when I said I needed sleep, but as I lie awake staring up at the dark ceiling, I don’t feel tired at all. Too many thoughts are whirling around in my mind.
What would have happened if I hadn’t left the cabin tonight? If I hadn’t had the nightmare that forced me to get some fresh air? We never would have known Dare was close by—and I never would have known I had yet another shifter vying for my bond.
God, that’s so confusing.
Instead of three possible mates, I now have to choose between four. Even worse, the feeling inside me that I think might be my own wolf slowly waking from her slumber doesn’t favor any of them over the other. She sees them all as hers.
I don’t understand how I’m supposed to do this. It’s going to be an impossible choice.
The men must not be tired either, because I can hear them speaking in low, soft voices in the living room. I recognize who’s speaking by pitch, happy to hear that even Dare and Trystan are making an effort to be civil. I can’t make out the words, but the rumble is comforting.
After a while, I fall asleep to the sound and drift into better dreams.
* * *
When I wake up to late morning sunlight, all four men are already up. I can hear the low murmur of their voices conversing from the back of the cabin. I slide out of bed and fish out one of Amora’s loaned T-shirts and a pair of shorts from my pack, get dressed, then run my fingers through my hair before padding out to join them in the kitchen.
Archer is standing over the wood stove as something delicious sizzles in the cast-iron skillet. He looks up as I enter and offers me a brilliant smile. “Good morning. Sleep well?”
“After the late night interlude, yeah,” I reply, passing him to join the others at the table.
There are already dishes waiting—a plate piled high with pancakes, a pitcher of warmed syrup, a dish of sausage patties, and a smaller bowl of scrambled eggs.
“We’re having a feast,” I observe as I sit between Dare and Trystan. I try to keep my tone teasing and flippant, but I’m dying to eat every last thing on this table. Breakfast at my uncle’s usually ended at cereal or oatmeal—a full-course meal like this is something I’d only ever seen on television.
Archer dumps a few more sausage patties into the bowl. “I felt like we all deserved a nice breakfast.”
After he takes his seat, we all fill our plates and set to work. For a while, I’m too involved in eating—and in enjoying every single bite—to pay attention to the conversation around me. Despite the tension that filled the room last night, the men seem to have settled into a more comfortable arrangement in the light of morning.
I have a mouth full of syrupy, sweet pancakes when there’s a lull in the conversation, and Dare looks right at me and says, “What happened to you the night I almost hit you with my car?”
The kitchen falls silent. As one, the other three men turn to look at me, their gazes just as questioning as Dare’s.
Ridge speaks up first, cocking his head to one side. “You two have met before?”
I finish chewing my bite of pancakes and wash it down with a slurp of coffee, buying me some time. I’ve refrained from telling the shifters much about my past beyond what they’ve already deduced—it’s impossible to hide the scars on my skin, and I know Ridge got an eyeful of them when he changed my clothes.
I definitely haven’t brought up the night I fled from Uncle Clint’s truck though. It isn’t even because I want to keep it from them, exactly. Talking about it just feels… hard.
But I don’t get a sense of pity from Dare when he asks me. In his position, I’d probably want to know why a frightened, wild-eyed woman nearly made me drive off the road in the dark too.
“You were running,” Dare adds, glancing around at the other shifters.
At that, Archer says quickly, “We don’t ask about Sable’s past.”
Trystan shoots Dare a murderous look, and Ridge’s shoulders tense as he grips his fork tightly, like he’s considering whether he’ll need to use it as a weapon or not.
Their protectiveness is sweet, truly. But I can’t keep the pain of my past a secret any longer. I remember vividly Dare’s haunted eyes last night. He knows pain, just like Archer does. Just like they all probably do, to some degree. None of these men will judge me for the thing
s I’ve survived. But maybe knowing those things will help them understand me better.
Help us connect more.
And no matter how unsure I was about all of this in the beginning, I’m coming to realize that I truly do want that.
I want to know these men, in every way possible.
“I was running,” I admit, putting down my fork. Even if I’ve worked up the bravery to sit here and tell them my story, I’ve completely lost my appetite. “My parents both died a long time ago. I hardly remember them. I was raised by my uncle, who beat and abused me. Most of you have seen the scars.”
The fury on Ridge’s face is frightening in its intensity, while Archer is looking at me like he wants to take me in his arms and kiss each and every one of my wounds. Both Trystan and Dare are watching me intently, waiting to hear more with expressionless faces.
I clear my throat around the lump rising in it. “He kept me locked away most of my life. I really only got to leave the house when he hurt me enough to require medical care. Couldn’t even play outside as a kid. I barely even knew where we lived beyond that it’s a big white farmhouse on the outskirts of Big Creek.”
It’s talking about the isolation that finally makes me cry.
Crazy that I can easily tell four strangers how my uncle abused me with a completely straight face, but remembering all those days locked in my room, all those years without a comforting touch…
That’s what breaks me.
Tears burn the backs of my eyes, stinging painfully with the effort it takes to hold them back.
“My parents died when I was really little; I don’t even remember them. Uncle Clint raised me. He was all I had for so long, and I guess in some ways he did take care of me. He taught me to read, gave me a basic education, and kept me fed and sheltered.” I shiver, wrapping my arms around myself. “He told me for a long time that the reason he wouldn’t let me go out, the reason he was so controlling and cruel, was because he cared about me too much. I used to believe him. But when I finally saw through the lie, it was like the entire illusion came crumbling down. I was ten the first time he hurt me. And then…”
