Too young . . . not strong enough . . . not ready. Liam saw red when he heard those words. And he was willing to go balls to the wall to prove himself.
He and Cain and Cyd planned their ambush with only a few hours notice, staked out Tals and Walker, who met only once a week under heavy guard since Teague was killed.
The first group of wolves they encountered was twenty feet from the small house, the guards for the outlaw pack. Boys he’d grown up with. His throat tightened at their betrayal but he forced himself to remain calm. He would give them a single chance at life. They deserved only that, or maybe not even, but he would toughen with each kill, Vice promised him.
Come to think of it, Vice hadn’t looked happy about that.
Now, Liam stood in front of the small pack of young wolves who he knew wouldn’t back down easily. It was necessary to pull them back from outlaw-ville, or take them out completely.
“Where’s your Dire backup?” one Were sneered at him. Able, a wolf three years younger and several inches shorter, with a big mouth and an even bigger attitude.
Liam told him, “I’ve got my own pack. I’m the new king. Abide by my law or die by my hands.”
The smallest one paled, but the others couldn’t let down their show of bravado. Liam watched the five Weres come toward him as the smallest lagged behind, knew this would be a violent, frightening show for all, especially if he let himself go the way Vice had taught him.
“I guess your decision’s made,” Liam said, and then he struck, faster than he’d ever thought possible, with a decisive energy that seemed to stun the Weres. Two went down with broken necks before Cyd jumped in, and then Liam took out Able as Cyd and Cain each made their own kills.
“Your name,” Liam demanded of the small Were.
“Pat,” he answered.
“Don’t move—you’re my witness. Move and die, understand?” Liam asked and Pat nodded as Cyd and Cain moved past him to infiltrate the house and get rid of the guards.
As king, Liam needed to allow his pack to keep him safe, to do some of the dirtier work. And so he hung back, knowing Cyd and Cain wanted to prove themselves to him as much as to themselves, watched his Weres infiltrate and kill the guards.
Seconds later, Cyd and Cain were dragging a surprised Tals and Walker out, the young twins’ strength and fighting skills far surpassing what it should be at their age, thanks to their training from the Dires.
While Tals and Walker looked cocky when the twins let them go in front of Liam, he knew they didn’t have the fire, the need to prove themselves. There was so much pent-up anger inside Liam, he could take them on one by one and it wouldn’t be enough.
He’d planned a brutal assault. There wasn’t a chance of a fair fight. This was a message—and if it turned into a bloodbath, so be it. “You’ll die tonight—and it will be a lesson to other Weres to not disobey their king.”
Tals snorted. “We don’t recognize you as our king, little boy.”
“You were just dragged out here like a sack of beans, so I’d watch who you’re calling little.” Liam cocked his head and stared down the two men, knew his eyes had turned lupine.
Knew there was no turning back as a newfound strength roared through his body like a freight train—heavy, well greased and unstoppable forward motion. The rage was a focused one, a steadily mounting sense of what he needed to do to avenge his father’s death and take back his role.
He would take Tals, because Tals killed his father. “Walker’s yours, Cyd,” he told the alpha Were, and Cyd didn’t hesitate.
Cain stood guard and kept an eye on Pat as Liam circled Tals.
“Just because you took down Teague doesn’t mean I’m as weak.”
“Prove it,” Liam urged, and when Tals lunged, Liam faked left and took him down with a hard elbow to the back. Then he threw his body on the prone wolf and all hell broke loose.
Tals fought. He was excellent—Liam had sparred with him before. But this time, Liam took no prisoners. As his hands tightened to fists, he grabbed Tals and began slamming his face until his human form was a bloody, bleeding pulp with no doubt every bone broken and then he hit him some more.
We tortured your father until he begged to die.
Liam knew—he’d heard all of it, allowed himself to crawl away only when his father’s screams stopped.
Jinx assured him that Linus had passed, crossed over successfully. At least he knew his father was in that place of peace he deserved.
Tals was headed where he deserved, too. Liam was sure of it. He’d taken Liam’s family, no doubt encouraged and laughed when Teague had taken his mate.
Liam had the wolf by the neck and squeezed until Tals bucked frantically under him. “You didn’t give my father the chance to fight. I’m returning the favor.”
“Liam . . . we were friends,” Tals managed through his mangled mouth.
Technically, that was true—Liam had been closest with the man currently bleeding underneath him. “We were never friends,” he spat back as his canines elongated and he ripped the man’s throat out, felt the life slip away from Tals even as the alpha leader inside of him stood up and finally reared his head.
You were meant for this, his father’s voice echoed in his head. He’d heard it a million times growing up, but it was hard to believe it when you really didn’t feel it.
There was no mistaking it now. Taking this action had not only been right, but just.
He didn’t stop there, ripped the wolf limb from limb. Before he tore Tals’s head off, he turned to see Cain holding the mounting spike at the ready, an old Were tradition.
In his haze, Liam could see the light Cain was bathed in, a thin shadow that glowed like a protective skin.
Tradition said only the true pack alpha could see the omega’s glow. Cyd and the Dires swore it was there and Liam had been ashamed to admit he couldn’t see it.
But now that he could, he was even more determined that he was doing the right thing. Blood and sweat mixed with tears of rage and revenge, ran in rivulets down his face and neck. He tasted the metallic tang and his wolf wanted out.
Vice told him that Weres had no control, not like the Dires, but that Liam could learn some measures of control. He didn’t want the out-of-control wolf to take him over. No, he wanted to be in control, to take the wheel, to be present for every brutal punch he threw.
He wanted to never forget.
Liam twisted Tals’s head with a roar, ripped it from the man’s body. As the blood covered him, his eyes turned, his chest coated and he and Cyd both looked like primitive gladiators. There was enough gore on the field for a horror movie.
Now, Cain held two spikes steady and Liam and Cyd mounted their enemies’ heads, prepared to wrap and drag the pieces of the bodies behind them on tarps to the meeting with the outlaws that Liam had called before this fight.
“This is what we’ll do to any and all who betray our kind,” Liam growled at Pat now. “Pass it along. It’s the only reason I’m letting you live.”
The Were who’d witnessed the brutal battle scampered off and Liam had no doubt the tales he’d tell. Liam’s legend was just beginning. The bodies in the middle of the outlaws’ clubhouse to be discovered soon would tell the rest of the story.
He fully expected there would be noncompliant wolves—he would do this, killing one by one until he reigned with an iron fist. This wasn’t the time for forgiveness—it was a time for war.
Liam and his new pack would win it, battle by battle, not caring if he was soaked in the blood of his enemies. This was a message to any other Were who was thinking of rebelling, and it was also a risk, but one Liam needed to take.
“Fine job, king,” Cain told him. “Fine damned job.”
* * *
The packs would talk about this forever. Vice knew that as surely as he did his vices.
His canines elongated with the violence, the smell of shed blood. The scene in front of him had been so fucking brutal that he was both hard as hell a
nd sick to his stomach, his emotions swinging on a violent pendulum of their own.
It had taken every ounce of self-control he had, which wasn’t much, to not join in the fray. Brother Wolf was mainly responsible for holding him back this time, because his wolf trained with Liam’s.
There are some things a pup has to do alone, Brother Wolf said, and besides, Liam wasn’t alone. He had an alpha and his omega and he had to come into his own at some point.
Doesn’t mean you’re not needed—now, more than ever, Brother Wolf said and Vice sighed as his wolf saw right through him. As much as Vice had fought the pairing at first, spending time with the wolf pup who would be king was good for him. Spending any amount of time with someone balanced was always a plus, and although those effects were only in the short term, Vice still liked how it felt.
But his emotional pendulum swung the other way more quickly than he thought and sorrow washed over him as he watched his charge—and Jinx’s—covered with blood, eyes still lupine and fierce, howling with all the frenzied power and lust that came with victory.
Cyd looked . . . stronger. The kill he’d made had brought out more of his inner alpha. Vice wondered how long he’d stay with Liam’s pack before breaking off into his own. The omega was gaining power too, and it should’ve been the signal of good things to come.
But Vice was so fucking sad. The loss of a certain kind of innocence that these young Weres would never get back.
Vice never had it, but to watch the young ones doing what the Dires had trained them for made him so proud and sick at the same time.
“Hey.” Liam stood in front of him now, uncertain for only a moment before Vice grabbed the back of the young wolf’s neck and pulled him in for a backslapping embrace, a warrior’s congratulations. A charge’s comfort, as Liam buried his head against Vice’s shoulder for a little longer than he should have, as if trying to gain back what he’d just lost.
There was no going back now. There couldn’t be. And humans would be the better for it.
Vice pulled Liam’s head back up, looked the young king in the eye and made sure he knew it too.
Chapter 9
Instead of going straight to the penthouse, Jez pulled into the parking lot of Mo’s Diner.
“I thought we decided home was the best option,” Jinx said, wondered when and how he’d begun to think of the place as home in such a short period of time.
“She’s got to eat, right?” Jez asked and Gillian’s stomach rumbled. She blushed and laughed a little and Jinx felt himself grow lighter every time he heard the sound.
Fucking pansy ass. “You know who owns this, right?”
Jez smiled. “Of course.”
Jinx kept Gillian close when they went inside. Most Weres wouldn’t be able to sense what she was—they just didn’t have that kind of nose when a Dire was preshift, and Dires were good at that kind of camouflage for good reason. But still, that didn’t always stop stupid things from coming out of wolves’ mouths.
“Grab a seat in the back,” the owner called. He was a big Were, head of this family-run business. The Were family considered themselves their own pack, owing loyalty to no one. And yet, Jinx heard they pledged theirs to Liam, if push came to shove.
A smart move to align themselves with the once and future king.
Obviously, Jez had been here before, as none of the Weres looked at him oddly. In fact, the waitress asked if Jez wanted his usual.
Jinx raised a brow when Jez nodded.
“I don’t think I want to know what a deadhead’s usual is,” he murmured without thinking.
“You like the Grateful Dead?” Gillian asked and Jez gave her a smile.
“I followed them one summer.”
Jinx rubbed a hand along the back of his neck as he watched his mate and his vampire roommate bonding over “Sugar Magnolia.” He supposed things could be worse.
They all ate heartily once the food came. Jinx ordered another round of fries for Gillian and a burger and shake for himself—they would be his third—and she didn’t seem to think the way they ate was odd at all.
“I see someone I need to do some business with.” Jez excused himself and made his way to a table across the room where two werechicks sat. They’d been staring at Jez from the moment he’d walked in and Jinx made a mental note to ask his roomie what the hell that was all about.
The extra food came and Gillian put ketchup carefully on the side of her plate. Took a sip of his shake when Jinx offered to share.
“Thanks. This food is so much better than the hospital.” As she spoke the word, her expression tightened a little.
“It’s okay, Gillian. I’ll make sure you stay out of that place.”
“Why are you doing this? Hiding me? Helping me?” she asked.
“Does it matter? You’re free.”
She nibbled a fry dipped in ketchup, then said, “In my experience, there’s a price you pay for everything.”
“I think you’ve paid enough, Gillian.”
She smiled. “I like the way you say my name. You don’t have an accent, but every time you say my name, you do.”
Because he slipped into the cadence of the old language whenever he was around her, couldn’t help it. He felt like he was in the old country; expected he could look out and see the bloom of the Reinrose, the delicate purple Revebejelle that circled around the center of town hall where all the celebrations took place. He could see Gillian dancing in a loose white dress, her hair glinting like diamonds in the sun.
You are losing your ever-loving mind. And after living with both Vice and a vamp, he didn’t have all that far to go.
* * *
Jinx seemed far away for the moment. She took the opportunity to study him carefully. He was like no man she’d ever met before—a mix of modern motorcycle badass and somehow old-fashioned in his manners, the way he opened her doors for her, pulled out her chair. That wasn’t some act, like her father and his friends. No, this was ingrained in him, like it was second nature.
His eyes were green like the fields she ran in during the springtime—she slept on the pads of warm grass during the day, hidden away from the prying eyes of the others in the park, and at night, she ran, smelling the musk of the flowers. His eyes warmed her. His hair felt as silky as it looked and she wanted to run her hands through it again. To kiss him again, although granted the cemetery was possibly the least romantic place for a first kiss.
She grinned at that thought and it faded when she saw his expression had gone serious again. “Whatever happens, Jinx, just don’t send me back.”
“I won’t.”
She pushed her plate away. “My parents won’t give up easily.”
“What do they do when you run away?”
“I always come back within a couple of days.” She left her clothes folded, a sign like DO NOT DISTURB AND I’LL COME BACK PEACEFULLY. “For all I know, the hospital doesn’t even tell them I leave and come back.”
But this time was different. They would know this man took her and while he didn’t appear to be scared of anything, he’d never been up against her family.
Then again, neither had she and as the dust settled and the enormity of what she’d done began to hit her, she realized she would be on the receiving end of their ruthlessness for the first time.
Gillian Margaret Blackwell. She could still hear her mother middle-naming her after all these years and she winced.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just . . . memories.”
“None of them good, by the looks of it.”
No, there hadn’t been good ones for a long time. Maybe, with Jinx, there would be.
* * *
Liam stared at his hands. He’d woken up four times already in the past two hours, convinced he could see the blood on them still. He knew it couldn’t be so—they’d been washed several times already, but the smell . . . the howls . . . rang in his ears.
The spoils of war.
“Ten more surrender
ed tonight,” Cyd had told him just before he came in here to get some quiet. The rooms they used were at the end of the Dire tunnel, where it was safest for them and yet gave them enough independence to begin functioning as a pack of their own.
In time, Liam would move back to Manhattan with the twins and the majority of his pack.
Max was being held in the room next to Harm and she had everything she could want, except freedom.
Liam felt the yoke around his neck as surely as she did.
It was hard to stay away from her. Cyd offered to find him other comforts but Liam refused.
Didn’t want to ever fall in love again but he didn’t want meaningless shit either.
Cyd took the comfort instead. As an alpha, all his desires were strengthening exponentially. After their kills, they’d never be the same.
As it’s meant to be.
He heard the two weregirls’ cries of pleasure throughout the night. Cyd obviously satisfied them completely and then some, as they’d had come out to breakfast smiling.
Cain was quieter about his needs, as he needed to be as the omega, but he fed his appetites as well. And when they gathered again, the strength of that trio would cement them all a great place in Were history.
Would it be enough? His father had done it for twenty-one years, since Liam’s birth, with not a single companion, no true mate. He said it was much easier without the entanglement and for the first time, Liam understood what he’d meant.
His father could’ve stopped him from mating with Max, but instead let him make his own mistakes. Linus saw nothing wrong, saw mistakes as something to learn from.
Liam saw a hell of a lot wrong with it.
So what, you’ll keep the boy and protect him from everything?
The pup was innocent and a hybrid. It would deserve none of the scrutiny and rejection it would get. But could Liam show the whelp love? Because without that . . .
“Liam? The California alpha’s on the line for you,” Cain said. “He wants to congratulate you on a job well done.”
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