“Blake? I need you to hear me. You talk to me like that again, I’ll gut you. Right here in this boardroom. I’ll open you up and spread your insides across this table. It’s be a shame to ruin such nice mahogany with a stain like you. But I’ll do it.”
Blake goes an ugly reddish color. His skin ripples.
He’s thinking about it.
“You hear me, bro?” I say.
Blake and me lock eyes. After a long pause his shoulders slump. He looks down at the table. “I hear you, Landon. Loud and fucking clear.”
“Good. Now. Can we get on with figuring out what to do about the Council?”
Rachael’s seated between us. Peacekeeper is her customary role. Blake and I have one of these sparring matches every few weeks. Although recently, with the pressure of the casino opening, it’s been more like every few days—
“What’s done is done,” Rachael says, giving me a disapproving glance. “The question is: where do we go from here?”
‘Here’ means after I told them I lost control and unleashed my lion. After I told them about the wildwolves chasing me down. I left everything about Summer out, of course. As far as Blake and Rachael are concerned she’s out of the picture. But they’re sensing something’s not quite right with my story. They’ll both do some digging. Shit. It’s partly why Blake’s acting so bold. Usually he’d never have the balls to speak to me like this.
But he knows I’m already weakened.
Blake never misses an opportunity to kick a rival while he’s down.
Maybe that’s what makes him so good at what he does.
So dangerous.
“All right, all right,” Blake says, acting conciliatory. “Where do we go from here? It’s Thursday. The gala opening is in three days. That’s not enough time to put out a fire like this. The Council’s never going to let this slide. You escaped their wildwolves…” Blake slows. Casts me a suspicious glance. This is the part of the story he has trouble believing. No condemned Wildblood has ever escaped a wildwolf on the hunt.
Just doesn’t happen.
Yet here I am.
“Only thing to do is turn yourself in to the Council,” Blake says. “I’m sorry, Landon. But that’s your only option.”
Blake crosses his arms and settles into his chair like the decision is so obvious he’s shocked he has to mention it. He’s trying—and failing—to hide how excited my death makes him.
You lying, phony motherfucker, I think. That’s exactly what you want. Me out of the picture.
A tough old Wildblood named Samuel Owens is the current elected president of the Wildblood Council. He’s a powerful alpha in his own right, a fearsome Bengal tiger. He’s responsible for enforcing the code that keeps the Wildblood secret safe. Samuel’s also known for being absolutely ruthless when it comes to retribution for breaking Wildblood law.
When one of us turns animal it leaves a psychic footprint in the minds of the highest ranking and most powerful Wildblood alphas who comprise the Council. Sometimes, for a few moments, we can even see through the recently turned animal’s eyes. Usually when a Wildblood turns it means his human form is lost forever. The animal simply takes over. That’s why I was so weak when Summer found me in the desert.
I fought my lion down. Locked him away.
It nearly killed me.
Then Samuel sent the wildwolves. He believed my life as a human was over, and the Council cannot permit a fully turned wild animal to run loose in the world of men.
But neither Samuel nor I counted on Summer Mason.
I have my elbows set on the table, my fingers laced together and placed at my chin. I’m wearing my customary cobalt blue Brioni suit. My battle armor.
Blake’s dressed in a rumpled Hawaiian shirt, cut-off shorts and flip-flops, looking like the slob he is.
“You do need to get in front of this, Landon,” Rachael says.
“What? Apologize? Pinkie-swear it’ll never happen again? C’mon. You both know what happens if I turn myself in to the Council. They lock me up. A few years later they might have a trial, then an execution.”
“You should’ve run,” Blake says.
“Become a nomad? Thought never crossed my mind. Not my style.”
Blake’s gaze is like a knife cutting into me. I’m having a hard time not attacking him right here. But I need proof he’s conspiring against me or I’ll lose the support of the entire Stone pride—
“Then staying alive isn’t your style, I guess,” Blake scoffs. “I’m surprised they haven’t come to collect you yet.”
Truth is so am I.
Something to do with Summer.
What she did out there in the desert. Killing the wildwolves.
That’s what my instincts are telling me—
Rachael rubs her face in her hands, visibly upset. “Let’s think this through. You went animal. The Council knows it. The penalty is death. There’s no way around that. But you already escaped the wildwolves. They can’t send more out in public. So you stay here, in the casino. Surrounded by humans. That means they’ll need to send bounty hunters. We can handle them. We have our own private security detail—”
“Whoa whoa,” Blake says, shaking his head. “What you’re talking about is treason. Samuel will urge the council to issue an edict. A call for Landon’s head. He’ll be a marked…man. If he isn’t already. Any Wildblood will be bound to turn him in. And every nut-job with a grudge will come out of the woodwork, itching to take the fugitive down to gain the Council’s favor.”
“There’s another way,” I say, almost to myself.
Both Rachael and Blake turn and stare.
Outside the room, from the casino floor, I hear the sound of slots ringing.
Blake’s the first to break the silence. “Maybe you really have lost it. You want to challenge Trent ‘Scythe’ Thorsa for lion pride alpha? You might as well deliver the Council your head on a plate. It’ll be a lot less painful.” Blake leans forward, like he’s sharing a secret. “Y’know, Landon, you and I don’t always see eye to eye. Okay, fuck it, we never do. But that doesn’t mean I don’t give a shit. You’re family. Trent’s been alpha for two decades for a reason. He’s a stone-cold killer. You? You’re good at business. Making deals. Killing it here, in the boardroom. But in the cage? You haven’t been in a death match in years. You’re gunna get slaughtered.”
“It’s the only way,” I say, my voice as rough as gravel. “I hoped you’d have my back.”
Blake shakes his head. “I do have your back. That’s why I’m telling you the truth. It’s insane.”
Rachael’s deathly pale. “Trent’s never been beaten, Landon.”
“He’s a mean son-of-a-bitch,” Blake finishes grimly. “A butcher. He refuses to give his opponents an opportunity to yield. He kills them. Every single one.”
“It’s the only way,” I say, glaring at my siblings. “Alpha’s are free to summon their animals as they see fit. It’s part of the respect Wildbloods show their alphas. If I defeat Trent and claim his title…”
The truth is, I’m not the only one pushing for this death match. My lion’s been roaring ever since Summer and me hooked up. It’s like she awakened something in himl. I lift my hands over the table, pull my suit cuffs up and clench my fists, watching the muscles in my forearms bulge. Blake and Rachael are glancing at one another suspiciously, but right now I can’t be fucked to worry about them. I’m sick of the politics. Sick of the scheming. I’ve lived too long among humans.
There’s a new hunger in me.
A new strength.
I felt it the night after Summer and I fucked in the hot tub. We went inside shortly after. Fucked again in the retreat’s king size bed, facing a two story wall of windows that looked out over the moonlit desert. Later, when Summer was asleep, I slipped from bed and walked to the window and pressed my fingertips to the glass. My entire body was humming with an energy and strength I’ve never felt before. My lion was right there at the surface of me and I…wasn’t afr
aid.
For the first time in my life I felt in control of what I am.
I’ve called my Wildblood heritage a curse.
Even thought of it as disease.
Something to hide and be ashamed of.
But right then I knew how wrong I’ve been.
Wildblood is a gift. A treasure.
I stood staring out the window for a long time. Just searching within myself, trying to discover the source of this new strength. Then Summer moaned in her sleep, and I turned and saw her lying on the bed, the sheet only half covering her tattooed body.
She was so beautiful it stole my breath.
I walked to here then, silently, my feet shifting to pads and my claws and fangs emerging. I leaned over Summer while she slept. A half-man half-lion. A monster. I leaned down until my nose brushed Summer’s tender neck, right over her jugular. Scented the blood running warm through her veins. And that’s when I knew.
I’d found my lifemate.
Only it was impossible.
Wildbloods can fuck humans, but they can’t mate with them. No human has ever born a Wildblood child. But that truth felt empty, meaningless compared to the primal instinct surging through my animal when he scented his lifemate’s blood.
My lion knew who Summer is.
He knew the truth, even before I did.
I stood hovering over her sleeping body, thinking about how she killed the wildwolves. That sound she made. How she entered the wildwolves’ minds.
I don’t think she’s a Wildblood.
But I don’t think she’s entirely human, either.
Now, staring at my clenched fists, feeling this newfound power surge through me, there’s no doubt in my mind that I will become lion pride alpha after challenging Trent Thorsa.
Thorsa will kneel.
Or I’ll tear out his throat.
No mercy. No second chances.
But even now, so early into this new strength, I feel my lion demanding more.
He doesn’t want to stop at lion pride alpha. He wants to rule as alpha over the entire Wildblood species. Lions and bears and cougars and snakes and hawks. All the apex predators. It’s been several generations since an alpha powerful enough to rule the united species has emerged. Now we have the Council, a committee of wannabe’s and tired has-beens who rule by making us fear what we truly are.
Animals. Hunters. Killers.
There’s a change in the air.
My blood pounds electric.
And judging by the way both Blake and Rachael are staring at me, they sense the new strength in me as well. “Do you believe me now?” I say, my voice a throaty rumble as my claws and fangs emerge and fine blonde hair sprouts along my arms. I reach out, dig a claw into the mahogany and drag it through the hardwood table.
“Cage him, Landon,” Blake stammers. “You already lost control once. It’s too dangerous—”
There’s a look I’m not used to seeing in my older brother’s eyes.
Fear. Even…respect.
“If you lose control of him here—”
“I’m finished fearing what I am,” I say, allowing still more of my animal free. My shoulders swell against my suit. “Finished pretending to be something I’m not. I’m a Wildblood. A born animal. What are you, my dear brother?”
Blake casts a glance at Rachael, and suddenly a wave of profound loathing washes over me. I have to choke back the urge to murder them both. I don’t trust them. Either of them. I know someone’s conspiring against my interests. I don’t know who yet. Maybe they both are. But when I find out—
“I’m a Wildblood,” Blake says, very quietly.
“In name only.”
Blake’s eyes flash.
His animal’s ire is up.
Good. Anger I understand. Rage I understand.
But the lying and backstabbing and scheming?
No. I’ll never understand that.
Then I think of Summer. If she has awakened this power in me, and she is truly my lifemate…she’s a target. If anyone finds out she holds the key to my power…they’ll kill her without a second thought. Blake. Don Abatelli. Trent Thorsa. All of them.
Suddenly I’m worried about her. I glance at my watch, about to make a show of excusing myself so I can try and contact her. Shit! What an idiot I’ve been. Sending her to try and extract information from Vito Abatelli?
She’s in danger.
I want her by my side. Close. So I can protect her.
But how? She’s a grifter. A thief.
No one in my circle of influence can see us together.
Reluctantly, I force my mind away from thoughts of Summer. She’s a capable woman. She’s survived in this town her entire life. After I defeat Thorsa and am declared alpha I’ll be able to do whatever I damned well choose.
What I choose is her. Summer Mason. I’m going to claim a human girl as my mate. And if the Wildblood’s don’t like it? Fuck ‘em.
I’m finished living my life by other people’s rules.
I look in my older sister’s eyes. I’m not a man to make empty gestures. She knows I’ve already made up my mind about challenging Thorsa.
“When?” Rachael says.
“Issue the challenge to Thorsa today. I’ll speak to mother. The Council will bicker and wrangle over it for a while. It’ll take a few days to be accepted unanimously.”
“Samuel will decide the location of the death match,” Rachael says. “And who judges.”
“You’re fucking crazy,” Blake says. “You know that? Fucking nuts. All I can say is…I want to see a copy of the will you leave behind.”
I turn to face him. “I’ll need a bearer.”
“Ask someone else.”
“Your the oldest. The strongest after me.”
The bearer is responsible for carrying the deceased’s body to the family burial ground. He or she is also traditionally the Wildblood expected to assume leadership of the pride or pack. But the honor comes with a price: Trent Thorsa will be furious at my challenge. He might just decide to wipe out any future threat to his rule. If that’s the case, he’ll murder the bearer in the ring.
I’m putting the lives of my entire pride at risk.
That’s why Blake’s hesitating. Part of him wants to refuse to act as my bearer, vanish for few weeks until this shit works itself out, then sneak in to assert his claim to leader of the pride.
Sneaky chickenshit bastard.
Blake must see the look of scorn in my eyes, because he stands, leans against his chair and cracks his knuckles. He’s built long and lean, but I know from experience he’s a lot stronger than he looks. “Sure. You want to get yourself killed? I’ll be your bearer. Funny, though. I always thought it would be me going out like this.”
“Me too. Rachael? Anything else?”
“What about Cole and Elliot?”
“Cole won’t be a problem,” I say. “As for Elliot? He’ll go along with what the rest of us decide. The trippy-dippy hippie always does.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SUMMER
“MARY!” VITO ABATELLI yells across the roof-top pool at the Bellagio VIP lounge.
I cringe inwardly. I hate the nickname.
It came from Vito calling me ‘Mer’ one night when we were partying and he was too fucked up to actually pronounce both syllables of my name. Eventually ‘Mer’ became ‘Mary’ in that odd morphing way of all nicknames.
Fortunately the name hasn’t stuck.
Most people still call me Summer.
Or Miss Palmer, if you’re down with the grifter crowd.
Vito’s wearing striped shorts and nothing else but thick chains of gold bling and a pair of gold-plated mirrored Ray-Bans. His wavy jet-black hair is slicked back. He’s ripped and super tanned, which isn’t surprising for a guy who does nothing but alternate between the pool and the gym.
There was a time, feels like forever ago now, when I actually thought Vito and me might be a thing. At least I tricked myself into hoping the sex m
ight lead to something real.
But with a guy like Vito, sex is the thing.
There’s nothing else. Absolutely nothing.
That’s all right if it’s what I need.
But now?
After what happened between me and Landon?
I’m realizing I need much more. Deserve more, even.
That’s a huge change for me. Feeling like I actually deserve something in life besides the occasional fuck and the occasional casino score and another day lived outside of jail, which is where I assumed my life would always end: staring out from the wrong side of a cell. Thinking about the life I might have had, if only—
Lead a life like mine and the if only’s can drive you mad.
But now?
I want more. Ready to admit I deserve more.
Desire can be dangerous. That…aspiration to become something else.
Trying to move beyond station, they would’ve said in the colonial era.
Getting too big for your britches.
Striving. Hustling. Making a go of it.
Lots of ways to describe the same thing: rising out of the shit the world’s dumped you in. Cuz here’s the thing, in this town, someone’s gotta fall for someone else to rise. So when people sense the desire to rise in you, they get their hate on. Start looking for ways to drag you down to their level.
That’s been my experience, anyway.
The dream of becoming something you’re not. Or of transforming yourself into something different. For some reason that dream pisses people off. It’s like they know you as a certain person, and they expect you to keep on being that same person, static and unchanging, forever.
Fuck that.
I know what I am.
A woman on the up-and-up. On the rise.
They’ll step to me now. The haters. Try and stop me.
I’ll lose old friends and make new enemies.
Bring it.
These things gather a certain momentum.
You need to take advantage of that.
Life only gives you one shot.
If you’re lucky.
The hundred grand in cash weighing down my backpack tells me I’ve been real lucky. The trick now is to roll with that luck. Ride it out. Don’t get all jittery and nervous and start over-thinking shit. Landon Stone has already been the biggest score of my life. There’s another three hundred g’s waiting for me if I can con this spoiled mafia mama’s-boy into telling me what his uncle’s plans for Savannah’s Casino are.
High Card: A Billionaire Shifter Novel (Lions of Las Vegas Book 1) Page 14
