by SJ Himes
She kissed his cheek and gave him a monster of a hug, and he squeaked, but hugged her back. She was safety and love and home. The last week was a mess of wonderful and horrible, but having her in his corner made up for a lot. Scylla pulled back and wiped at her eyes, smiling. “I have some good news too.”
“You got the promotion?” He asked, and when she nodded, eyes alight with accomplishment and pride, he cheered and gave her a high-five, both of them laughing.
“That means we can get packing. I start next week.” Scylla looked around the kitchen and shrugged. “Time for a new start. I can move to Cambridge with you, and we can afford to find a new pack with higher tithes and get away from Bertram Mercer and the Southside Pack and all their mess.”
“Yes!”
Scylla laughed at his exuberance and ruffled his hair. “Call your boyfriend and tell him the good news. Is he going to the pack run tonight?”
“He said it was mandatory, and that he was going to use the time to find out who attacked me and vandalized his car.” He wanted to call Jameson and have him come back, just leave the pack and all the bullshit behind. If they left, he really didn’t think the person harassing them would follow—Mercer wanted them gone anyway, so what did it matter?
“I hope he’s careful,” Scylla worried.
“Jameson is the best fighter and the biggest wolf in the pack,” Rael shrugged. “I’m not worried about him getting hurt, whoever started this shit is gonna get it. I just wish he would blow the whole thing off and stay with me.”
“Jameson isn’t the type of man or alpha to blow something off, though.”
He grimaced. “Yeah, I know.”
“Call Jameson. I’m going to call the alpha of the Cambridge wolves and see if I can arrange a meeting this weekend,” Scylla shooed him out of the kitchen.
“Jameson called him and arranged a meeting with him on Monday afternoon. If you get out of work on time, we can all go and see him?”
“Jameson doesn’t waste time, does he?” Scylla chuckled. “I’m gonna hope for a good result for the meeting, and plan on moving. Think about what you want to take with you. Might as well start packing for college now since we’re going to be packing up the whole house.”
“Good point!” He headed down the hall to his room and then threw himself on his bed, pulling out his phone.
It wasn’t even an hour since Jameson dropped him off, and he was probably just getting to the alpha’s house before they all headed south to the park for the full moon run. The phone rang and he waited for Jameson to answer.
“Rael? Are you okay?” Jameson said as soon as he answered, and Rael could hear the sound of traffic in the background, Jameson talking via the hands-free in the rental car.
“Sorry to call while you’re driving, just wanted you to know that Mom and I talked. She got that promotion and she agreed to leaving the Southside Pack and moving to Cambridge. You still want to come with us?” He knew Jameson had made the offer several times and all, but now it was actually happening, so he was nervous.
“I just parked outside Bertram’s house, it’s fine,” Jameson said, and the engine cut off. “I meant it. I’ll follow you to Cambridge, I don’t mind. You can live on campus and I can get a place nearby and commute to work, or you can move in with me, or whatever you want to do, sweetheart. I just want you to be happy and safe.”
Rael heard the ding of the car door opening, and then Jameson sighed. “I’m going to tell Bertram we’re leaving, then I’ll come back and see you in a bit.”
“Aren’t you going to find out who tried to attack me?”
“I just did,” Jameson said, his voice deeper, a rumbling growl. “The asshole in question is standing in the driveway. I’ll call you back in a few minutes.”
“Jameson!”
Chapter 11
The wind carried the scent right to Jameson, and he knew. The guy standing in the driveway next to a large gray minivan with the annoyed expression on his face was the werewolf who attacked Rael, and the same asshole who tore up his BMW.
Jameson put his phone away, and carefully shut the door to the rental, feeling bad for hanging up on Rael, but there was no way he was letting this guy get away before he had words with him. He looked vaguely familiar, and as he walked up the driveway toward the house, he recognized Abigail’s brother Chad, and then Mr. Lauder coming out of the garage carrying some luggage. He hadn’t seen either of them in person in a few years, but they recognized him right away, if the startled expressions on their faces were anything to go by.
Chad tried to turn and run, but Jameson was on him in seconds. He grabbed the asshole by the neck and lifted him off his feet, fangs and claws sprouting as adrenaline coursed through his muscles, and the transformation was held off by the thinnest of inclinations. He needed to be able to talk. Hands frantically clawed at Jameson’s grip as the other werewolf tried to transform, but Jameson tightened his grip and growled sharply, the scent of terror filling the air around them. Chad was not an alpha, and his attempts to transform were slow and awkward.
“Hey! Let my son go!” Mr. Lauder tried rushing Jameson, but he roared, loudly enough that birds in nearby trees took off screaming in fear, and the windows of the house shook. The older man put up his hands and fell back against the minivan, shaking in fear.
Pack members arriving for the pack run poured out of the house, surrounding the driveway and whispering. Jameson lowered Chad to his knees, keeping the grip on his neck, claws drawing just enough blood for thin trails to run down from each claw tip.
“Jameson! What are you doing?” Bertram shouted as he cut through the crowd. Jameson sent a warning glare to his uncle, who stumbled to a halt a few feet away, trying to hide his sudden nervousness behind bluster. “Let Chad go right this minute.”
“No,” he said, his voice a deep, rolling rumble of thunder. “He attacked Rael, tried to kill him. I told you, but then you already knew, didn’t you, Uncle?”
“Are you accusing me of something?” Bertram tried to sound angry, but he just sounded pathetic.
“I don’t care who knew or not; I will have justice for Rael.”
“Let him go!” Abigail came out of the house, red-faced and screaming, her mother following. “Chad didn’t do anything wrong!”
She went to fly at him, but a snarl made her stop, and Bertram grabbed her arm, yanking her backwards. Chad gasped and struggled but gave up after a few seconds. “Let him go, Jameson.”
“Not yet,” Jameson wouldn’t kill him, but the asshole broke Rael’s ribs and nearly killed him. The cops wouldn’t interfere in werewolf business unless a mundane human was affected, but then Jameson didn’t need anyone to solve this problem for him. “Your scent is the same as it was when I faced you down in the street a few days ago. The same scent was all over my car, along with your blood and fur.” Jameson reached into his pocket and pulled out the tuft of fur he’d pulled from the rends in the BMW. He held it up and the scent wafted on the mild breeze, and others around them could smell the proof. He held the fur up in front of Chad’s eyes and enjoyed the fear and the fading fight in his eyes. “Either I challenge you to a fight to the death, or you accept my judgment as just and accept the punishment I deem fit.”
“No! You’ll kill him! He was protecting me!” Abigail wailed, and Bertram slapped a hand over her mouth and pushed her into her mother’s arms.
“Shut it, woman! Get her in the house.” Bertram ordered, and several pack members glared at their alpha, but surrounded Abigail and made her go back into the house, screaming the whole way. “Let Chad go, Jameson. We can talk this out. I’m sure he didn’t mean to hurt Rael.”
Jameson ignored Bertram and leaned down so he could whisper into Chad’s ear. “You meant to kill him, didn’t you?”
Chad scrambled but couldn’t break free from his punishing grip. He choked, and Jameson eased up just enough so the asshole could breathe. “Abigail wanted him out of the pack.”
“Why?” Everyone could
hear just fine, from the whispering going on around them.
“She hates Scylla and figured she would leave if it was too dangerous for her son, or if he were dead.” Chad choked and Jameson threw him down onto the driveway, hacking and spitting, red-faced.
“Why the enmity toward Scylla? Is it just petty jealousy?”
Chad coughed, face blotchy. “Bertram told her he would set her aside and find a new mate if she didn’t give him an alpha heir. Everyone knows he wants Scylla Morrow, so Abigail wanted her gone in case her pup isn’t an alpha. Harder to find a new mate if the she-wolf Bertram wants is gone.”
“You tried to kill Rael on the deranged whims of your sister, all on the threat that she might lose her place as alpha mate? The pup isn’t even born yet! This has all been done needlessly. What kind of asshole thinks any of this is rational?” Jameson roared the last few words, and people backed away in fear, Chad cringing at his feet.
“Challenge to the death or accept the punishment I see fit,” Jameson demanded, looming over Chad.
“I’m not an alpha, you’ll kill me in a fight,” Chad whimpered. “I accept your punishment!”
Abigail screamed from the house, and he could hear her mother shushing her, and her father walked away without looking back at his son, heading into the house.
“Now, Jameson, the boy is sorry…”
“He hasn’t even apologized, Uncle,” Jameson snapped, and Bertram went pale at the barely contained rage in his words. “Your mate is a spoiled brat who endangered a pack member’s life out of petty jealousy, and you’ve done nothing to protect your pack members or stop your mate. This will go no further.”
Jameson straightened and looked out over the crowd of pack members in the yard. “I am leaving this pack. Rael Morrow and Scylla Morrow will be joining me. Any employees of mine who are pack members are welcome to follow us to Cambridge. I will help with moving expenses and finding places to live.” Shock swept through the crowd and a swell of urgent whispering met his ears. He looked down at Chad, who still cowered at his feet. “If you ever come near Rael or Scylla again, I will kill you. No contact of any kind, for any reason, will be permitted. I see even a hint of you or your family near Rael, Scylla, or anyone who follows us to Cambridge, and I will tear you to ribbons and leave your flesh for the crows.”
Chad nodded hurriedly, crying and whimpering, piss soaking his jeans at the crotch. Jameson shook his head and stepped away from the mess at his feet, turning to Bertram. His uncle looked furious, but an undercurrent of fear threaded through the fury, and it tugged at the baser instincts in Jameson.
There was no way Bertram didn’t know about Abigail’s plotting. Whether he endorsed it outright or not, he let her get away with it, and Jameson did nothing to hide the disgust and fury he was feeling as he stepped into Bertram’s personal space.
“You’d rip this pack in half to avenge that mutt?” Bertram snarled in a poor attempt to appear disapproving.
“If your wolves wish to follow me, that is a failing on your part, Uncle. You’ve made it clear that you won’t tolerate those who are different, and your bigotry and racist bullshit are what will destroy this pack, not me. Anyone who wants to leave is welcome to join me and Rael in the north.” A number of the werewolves present were nodding, a few peeling away from the crowd and heading for the street and their cars. Others pulled out phones and began making calls, warning those not yet present of what was happening. Bertram grew angrier with each second, and several wolves backed away from him, migrating toward Jameson.
“I won’t allow you to destroy this pack!” Bertram shouted.
A car sped down the street and came to a screeching halt in the middle of the road. Rael got out of the car, Scylla on his heels, and Rael ran across the yard toward him. Jameson put up a hand to keep Rael from getting too close, but Bertram saw Rael coming and the impotent rage on his face turned murderous. Bertram shifted toward Rael, who was closer to the alpha than Jameson, and leapt for him.
“Rael! No!” Jameson reached for Bertram but missed by an inch, and he took off after his uncle, determined to protect Rael.
“You mutt! This is all your fault!” Bertram roared at Rael, who skidded to a stop halfway across the yard. A blur of gray fur and shredded clothing slammed into Bertram, and Jameson dodged out of the way, going straight to Rael.
He gathered Rael in his arms as Scylla, fully transformed into the deadly bipedal werewolf form, tore into Bertram, who was still human, blood spraying as she swiped at his chest and knocked him across the lawn. Rael clung to him as he watched his mother toss Bertram about like a chew toy.
He had never seen his mother fight another werewolf, not for real. She was huge, powerful, and enraged, and Bertram was already a mess of slashes and blood. Her clothing lay in ruins in a path from the car to the yard, and her gray fur was soaked with blood. She was going to kill Bertram.
“Mom!” Rael shouted. If she killed him outside of an official Challenge the police might get involved—it would be seen as murder, and other packs might turn on them. “Mom! You kicked his ass, it’s over!”
She snarled, a long, low dangerous sound that rumbled up from her chest, and Bertram moaned weakly at her feet. No one approached, the whole street silent, aside from Bertram’s desperate gasps for air. Blood dripped from her claws, and she slowly turned away from her broken opponent. Fur rippled, receding, blood-smeared skin reappearing, and she shrank about two feet, shoulders slimming. The large muzzle and tall ears vanished gradually, and then her human features reappeared, covered in blood. She was naked in broad daylight on a residential street, and while none of their kind would care, people walking or driving by might.
Jameson shrugged out of his jacket and handed it to Scylla, who was fully human again, and she slid it on, blood sticking to everything. A few wolves knelt by Bertram, but most of the wolves who had been present for the confrontation were either gone, or were silently watching from the sidewalk or driveway, as far from Bertram as they could get without leaving. He lay groaning in pain, but slowly healing, as he hadn’t bled out yet.
Bertram had been soundly beaten near to death by a she-wolf, one who wasn’t an alpha, all in a matter of seconds, and Scylla was uninjured. Bertram’s power base in the pack wasn’t likely to survive past this encounter. The wolves who stayed with him would be few.
Rael grabbed his mom and hugged her tightly even though she was sticky with blood and dirt, and she chuckled softly. “No one hurts my baby,” she murmured, hugging him back. Jameson reached out and hugged them both, pressing his face to Rael’s and breathing in deep. Rael kissed his cheek, his alpha tense and his grip tight, but not crushing.
A shout from the house, and they turned to see Abigail rush down the front steps and awkwardly kneel next to Bertram, hands reaching for the worst of his wounds. Rael flinched when Bertram swatted at her hands, pushing her away from him. She gasped, red-faced, and she sent them such a hateful glare Rael could all but feel the searing rage. Mrs. Lauder came out from the house and tried to convince Abigail to go back inside. Chad was gone in the commotion.
“Let’s get out of here,” Rael said. “I’m done with this place and these people.”
Jameson steered them both toward the street and their cars, his mom’s still idling with the doors open where they’d left it after hightailing from their place. Abigail began screeching obscenities at their backs, but none of them turned around or acknowledged her increasing threats. They weren’t pack anymore, and they had a better place to be.
Chapter 12
The next morning Rael sat in the middle of his bedroom, breaking down his desktop computer and packing it away for the move across town. Jameson was napping on Rael’s bed, the mattress too small by far, but the alpha had been adamant about staying with Rael and Scylla after the events of the previous day, and he’d slept on the couch, which wasn’t any better. Scylla was at the hospital, working her last shift as a regular NP before starting her new position on the following
Monday.
Jameson sighed in his sleep, rolling to his side and hugging Rael’s pillow to his chest, and Rael found himself sighing and blushing and staring at Jameson like a lovesick teenager. Which he was, really, and he chuckled at himself before getting back to work. Jameson hadn’t slept well on the couch, too keyed up from the fight, worried about an ambush in the night, and then seeing Scylla off for her early shift. It had been the full moon, but Jameson didn’t transform or leave for a run in the nearby park, determined to stay with them and keep them safe all night. His alpha was exhausted.
Rael finished packing the computer and stretched, arching his back, stiff from sitting on the floor. An appreciative hum had him grinning over his shoulder, Jameson awake and staring at him with golden eyes. He dropped his arms and crawled to the bed, and Jameson lunged for him, pulling him onto the bed, the old frame squeaking in protest. Rael laughed, and snuggled down into Jameson’s chest. Jameson wore just his boxer briefs, his clothes in the dryer. Rael sniffed and kissed and nibbled, Jameson making happy grumbles at the attention.
“How’s packing going?” Jameson asked, sleepy.
“Meh,” Rael waved vaguely toward the mess. “I have five weeks before the semester starts.”
Jameson cast a dubious glance around the room, and Rael snickered. “I’ll help at some point but cuddling sounds best right now.”
“Just cuddling?” Rael asked, wiggling until he lay groin to groin with Jameson, rolling his hips.
Jameson hummed. “Did you have something else in mind?” A big hand carded through his hair and took a handful in a firm but gentle grip. Rael groaned in encouragement, arching his spine, letting Jameson nibble on his neck. He ran his hands over naked skin and firm muscles hot to the touch and making him even hotter. He was hard and aching and wanted to bite. “Oh, I think I know what you want.”
