I rolled my eyes. “Ugh. Do you ever take anything seriously?”
He grinned and something about it told me I hadn’t been as covert in my admiration as I’d hoped. “Not if I can help it. Life is much more bearable if I keep a certain sense of humor about it all.”
“A sense of humor and humiliation are two different things.” I turned and marched back toward the wolf side of the woods.
His voice from behind me stopped me in my tracks. “You are not a laughing matter, Charlotte Vuk.”
I spun, flattered and frustrated. “What does that even mean? You lied all that time—”
In a flash, he closed the distance and stood before me. His smirk was gone, replaced by the most intense and studying gaze. “I only wanted to get to know you. And to maybe … let you see the real me. No one else does,” he added quietly and I knew without being told that he’d just been more real with me than he had with anyone in a long time.
My heart softened. “I like the real you,” I said quietly.
His smile rattled me and my pulse sped as his hand reached for mine. “I like you too,” he said. “I don’t want to stop this because of our family’s prejudices.”
My shoulders sagged at that. “I don’t either,” I said but inside, I knew things had changed.
His pleasure melted away and he eyed me suspiciously. “You’re going to compete, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am. Why?”
He shrugged. “My father said we were invited to watch. I want to know what kind of show to expect.”
My palms went clammy at the prospect of Owen in the audience. “You mean, you want to know if it’ll be over quickly?”
“I didn’t say that.”
I winced. “You didn’t have to.”
“I’ve heard what your people think of your chances.” His head tilted and the mask he’d worn before slipped away to reveal genuine interest. “Out of curiosity, why are you going to compete against her? Why not just walk away? Go home, like you wanted.”
I swallowed back the humiliation of yet one more person’s belief that I would lose. “You wouldn’t understand,” I mumbled.
Owen shot forward so fast I missed it. In less than a breath he was inches away from me, staring into my eyes hard enough to make me nervous. His hand hovered at my cheek but never made contact. The mask he’d worn a moment ago was gone. Now, he was open, inviting.
“Try me,” he said so gently that I swallowed against the urge to lean in and press my face to his palm in comfort.
I took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of sweet pine and rich earth that always seemed to hang around him. It was heady, intoxicating. The scent of him combined with the memory of his lie made me angry and I glared up at him. “Because I take life seriously. I don’t lie or quit or tease. My word and my responsibilities mean something. Unlike you and the rest of my pack.”
“You mean you take yourself seriously,” he corrected. “And you want everyone else to do the same.” I hesitated, trying to read whether he was condemning me, but there was no judgment in his words.
“Maybe.” It grated that he’d seen that so easily. “Besides, it’s not Regan’s fault that we’ve been kept apart our whole lives. I want to get to know her. And I can’t do that unless I meet her on her level.”
“You mean unless you act like one of them.”
I shrugged, hating that the truth felt embarrassing. But something about the way he said it made it sound like a bad thing.
“Tell me, what would happen to Regan if you relinquished the alpha role?”
“You mean forfeit?” I asked. He nodded and my gut tightened at his question. Did he want me to forfeit so he could marry Regan? I shook the thought away. Who cared? I shouldn’t be getting married anyway at seventeen. This was crazy.
“She would lose her place,” I said. “If a Vuk relinquishes the role, she does so for the entire family line—a line that follows the father’s descendants. It would pass to the next rightful heir, the council member whose family has held their position longest.”
I’d used the law book’s genealogy map to learn about Thill. His only living female descendant was Sheridan. I’d been surprised to learn Sheridan and my dad were second cousins and while she wasn’t a Vuk, she was the closest thing to an heir. But despite the relation, Regan was clearly not a fan of the idea of Sheridan leading. I had to admit, for reasons I couldn’t name, neither was I. Although, unlike Regan, she hadn’t lied.
I still hadn’t confronted my sister about that. Fang marks. Not a stab wound like she’d originally told me. I shuddered at the implications. Again, I wondered…
“And Regan losing her place matters to you?” Owen asked.
“Of course it matters,” I said. “Is that so wrong? Regan is my sister. She didn’t ask for this and I can’t allow my decisions to punish her. To take her whole future away.”
“That’s very selfless of you,” Owen said quietly.
I blink, my cheeks warming at the unexpected compliment. “I didn’t do it to be selfless,” I said.
“Precisely my point,” he murmured, his hand once again hovering near my skin. “You are much worthier of this than they realize,” he said.
“Don’t your parents teach you to make the same hard choices?” I whispered. Something about our closeness made everything feel hushed. Even the forest was deathly silent around us.
Owen’s eyes flashed at my question and I wondered if I’d said something wrong, but then the friendliness in his gaze returned. He smiled but it looked sad. “No, vampires are a little different. We are not quite so … democratic,” he finished.
“But you are a coven,” I pointed out. “A unified group, like us.”
“No, not like you,” he said.
I waited for him to elaborate, but when he didn’t, I bit my lip in thought. My brows drew together as I tried to understand the subtle differences I’d noted between us and them last night. Beyond our supernatural makeup, there had been a coldness to the vampires that hadn’t been present on our side. I’d missed it before because the pack had been cold to me, but amongst themselves there was a warm camaraderie Owen’s side didn’t possess.
And Mrs. Rossi—it hadn’t been just me that she’d openly dismissed. She’d been almost cruel to Owen, demanding that he get off the stage and then hissing at him too low for me to hear.
Maybe Regan was right to suspect them.
“Your family is close,” Owen said finally, a wistfulness to his words that confirmed my suspicions. “But…”
“But?” I prompted.
He frowned and it twisted into something hateful. “They are only this way among each other. They have no regard for outsiders, no matter what creature. I’m sure you’re experiencing that firsthand right now.”
I did know but I couldn’t admit it. “I know you don’t like them, but I can’t help who I am. They’re my family.” I knew it was totally different from what I’d said before—that we couldn’t help who we were related to—but I was feeling defensive now, knowing that I had been spilling my heart out to Prince Owen.
“Your family doesn’t define who you are,” Owen said gently. “Your actions do.”
I wondered whose family he was talking about now, but I didn’t ask. “Well, my actions are going to involve training for this competition. Because whether I win or lose, if I can fight like one of them, I am one of them. They will have no choice but to accept me.”
“And you are sure acceptance is what you want?” he asked.
I blinked at him. “Yes.”
His eyes regarded me with a depth of understanding that made me squirm. “There are worse things,” he said finally, and I wasn’t sure if the statement was meant for me or him. He took a step back, head tilted. “Okay, I’ll do it.”
“Do what?” I asked.
“Train you, of course,” Owen said, suddenly so much lighter than before. He waved toward the trees behind me. “You won’t learn to fight like them all by yourself.”
My jaw fell open. “I can’t train with you. It’s …” I trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.
“What?”
I sighed, thinking of Bevin and the others. What would they say if they found out I was spending time with Owen? “It’s ridiculous. You’re the enemy.”
“Your only enemy is yourself. The sooner you realize that, the better off you’ll be.” He fell back another step and began studying the forest around us, a finger propped on his chin.
“Owen…” I began again.
Owen whirled and refocused on me, brows raised in challenge. “What else are you going to do? Ask a member of the pack for help?” His lips curved into a thin smile, although there was no humor behind it. “Do you honestly think they’re going to train you to beat the one they believe rightfully deserves the alpha role?”
“Well, no.” I’d already thought of that, and he was right. I couldn’t ask any of them for help. They’d say no for sure.
Or worse—they’d say yes. And I wasn’t convinced some of them wouldn’t train me badly on purpose. Like Bevin. Or even Carter. He’d been nice enough but he’d made it no secret where his loyalty lay. The pack’s preferences had already been made extremely clear.
I sighed. “Before I can answer … I have to ask,” I said.
Owen’s gaze sharpened, his mouth and eyes pulling tight. “You want to know if I killed Regan’s mother?” he said and his words were sharpened to a vicious point.
“I want to hear your side.”
Hurt flashed—so fast I almost missed it and then it was gone. In its place was the mask, smooth and practiced and utterly void of any emotion. I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly cold. “My side…” He trailed off and stared me down until I shifted my weight, hating that I’d brought this up at all.
Of course Owen wasn’t involved. I didn’t need to hear his side or anyone else’s to know that. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” I said, wanting to take it back, to move on.
His shoulders fell and he blinked as if coming out of a deep thought. “No, you have a right,” he said quietly. “I was not involved. I know your pack suspects us but … there are things about Regan’s mother that your pack can’t understand. Things that make it impossible for her death to be on our hands—” He paused and seemed to change directions. “Charlie?”
Before I could fully blink, he was in front of me, breathing softly against the tip of my nose as he leaned in. I gasped in surprise and my senses filled with him, throwing me off balance. “Yes?” I managed.
“I will never, ever hurt you,” he said. “No matter what. Do you trust me?”
“Yes, Owen, I trust you,” I said, the words coming out on a whisper.
The corners of his mouth turned up and his expression lightened. I wondered why he was so relieved over that but then he added, “Then let me help you win this. Let me train you.”
The hint of a smug smile pulling at his yummy mouth made it impossible to refuse. “Fine,” I said. “But you can’t tell anyone.”
“Cross my heart, hope to die,” he said.
Somehow, he made that sound like an invitation. It was equal parts creepy and seductive, and I had to ask. “Aren’t you already…?”
Owen laughed and he threw an arm around my shoulders. Heat flushed my cheeks at his touch. “Darling, you’re hilarious. This is going to be so much fun.”
We planned to meet the next day, and Owen walked me home. My nerves were on edge as we crossed back into werewolf territory, certain that somebody would spot us and jump out, ready to attack first and ask questions later. But he was so quiet, like a ghost slipping through the trees, and we didn’t encounter anyone.
“Until tomorrow,” he murmured, brushing a kiss across my knuckles, like the royalty he was.
The look in his eyes was pure amusement, almost as if he were laughing at himself making such a gesture. I felt my face redden. It’s not like boys my age went around kissing your hand in farewell anymore. But it was more than that, because something about Owen doing it seemed right somehow. Like it was a part of his character to be chivalrous.
I shook my head free of that thought immediately. Owen was a lot of things. Chivalrous was probably not one of them.
He released my hand, slipped into the shadows, and was gone.
I moved quickly across the lawn and shut the back door behind me with a soft click. I crept up the stairs, praying I wouldn’t run into anyone on the way to my room. If I did, I was still acting under the pretense that I’d been out for a run, but I was too preoccupied to lie very well right now, and I didn’t want to put forth the effort.
I closed my bedroom door with a careful click and then went to the window. I had no idea how I knew he hadn’t left yet, but I wasn’t wrong. He stood wedged in between the thickest trees, but he was still there, watching the house. His eyes flitted over the windows and stopped on mine. I raised my hand in a wave as my pulse hammered in my wrist. He acknowledged my wave with a slight nod and then faded and disappeared against the backdrop of trees.
My own reflection caught my gaze out the corner of my eye. I was smiling. As soon as I realized it, I wiped my face clean of any expression. I shouldn’t have been smiling for a vampire. Especially one who bred such animosity in my family. But I couldn’t deny the uplifting feeling being with Owen had left inside me.
Ever since the pack had taken me away from my mom, I had been carrying around the lead weight of dread. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible was about to happen to me—probably because terrible things were already happening. But being with him made that feeling vanish. With Owen’s help, I could navigate the confusing waters of pack life. Of matriculating into a life among my own species.
I told myself it was because he was going to help me train, help me win, and then I would have a solid place in a family of my own. Something I’d never had and always wanted. But it was more than that. Deep down, I knew that part of my elation, my hope and excitement in being with Owen, was that I’d finally been given the opportunity for a future.
Growing up as a werewolf in a city full of humans, a future was the one thing I knew I would never have. No real friends, no boyfriends, and definitely no husband or family on my horizon. Not when I constantly had to hide what I was from the people around me. For all their preoccupation with the paranormal, humans didn’t react well to the existence of werewolves.
But now, here, with Owen…
I knew there was still an entire competition to win first. And I knew winning could mean being married to a stranger, a murderer, a monster in all the ways that counted for anyone else. But it also meant the possibility of a future. Having someone to share it with after believing my entire life would be spent alone; that was definitely enough to make me smile, even in spite of all the danger and risks that future held.
“I’m going to win,” I promised the girl in the glass reflecting back at me. My smile faded into something fierce, something determined, and it struck me that just then, the girl in the reflection looked a whole lot more like Regan than me.
Chapter Three
Regan
My breaths came in short bursts. With every inhale, my lungs burned from the workout I’d just finished with Bevin. I’d no sooner shifted back to my human form, complete with running shorts and a sweaty ponytail, when a fluffy white towel careened through the air and into my face. The fabric hit hard enough to sting the sensitive skin near my eyes. I ripped the terry cloth fabric away and glared at Carter, the guilty party.
“What the hell?” I demanded.
“Sorry, you looked like you could use a mop-up.” He held his hands up in mock surrender. A grin teased the corners of his mouth. “I was just trying to help, swear,” he added, when he saw my expression.
“You know she’s in a mood, Carter. Don’t be an idiot,” Bevin said around gulps of water.
Carter just snorted, completely ignoring the warning. “I can handle myself.”
My gl
are hardened further. “You want to test the theory?” I snapped.
He shrugged, but there was a hardened gleam in his eye. “I’m game.”
I handed my water off to Bevin, too happy to give him what he was asking. My fight wasn’t with Carter. Deep down, I knew that. But I had no other way of relieving the fountain of stress that seemed to bubble closer and closer to the surface with each passing day.
Bevin opened her mouth like she was about to argue but must’ve thought better of it and backed away. It wouldn’t have done any good. She was right. I was in a mood. It was this stupid competition. No, it was the competition and my sister. Why did I have to fight her? Why couldn’t I fight Lane or Ronnie or someone else? Hell, why couldn’t it be Sheridan? I definitely wouldn’t mind taking her down.
The bottom line was that I was twisted up about the fight to come. And the only way I knew to deal with it was to fight as much as possible now. The gleam in Carter’s eyes let me know he fully understood that. The human side of me appreciated that about him. The animal side of me just wanted to tear a chunk out of his—
“Ready when you are, Vuk.” Carter stood with his feet planted shoulder-width apart and arms loose. His fingers were twitchy at his sides. He reminded me of a cowboy about to draw his six-shooter. It might’ve made me laugh under other circumstances. As it was, I smirked, all confident and aggressive. He didn’t even bother to shift yet, waiting on me.
I pulled my wolf to the front of my mind. It hung there, ready anytime I gave it the green light. I loved this feeling. The way it felt right before I shifted. With my wolf straining against my human self, itching to be free. It felt like possibilities. I felt alive.
I eyed Carter and nodded. “Go.”
We shifted at the same time and I launched myself through the air, straight at the bark-brown wolf that was Carter. He planted his feet and bared his teeth, waiting to meet me head-on.
I collided with him and we went rolling, end over end. I could hear his teeth snapping, feel his animal breath on my neck. I snapped and shoved at him with jaws and claws. When I could feel us slowing, and he threatened to pin me, I shoved hard and felt his ribs land with a thud against a tree trunk. The breath whooshed out of him and he stilled. Just for a second.
Bitterroot, Part 2 Page 3
