“He's made me give a squirt of pee on occasion,” Adi said dryly. “But not without payback, if you feel me.” She gave a smug smile, and Julia nodded. She felt her. She'd only been a couple of weeks in the den, but already, she wondered why Adi wasn't in charge. She sure thought she was, but Adi hadn't gotten the memo.
But in reality, Julia had grudging respect for Joseph. He was stern and gentle and supervised the pack with great fairness. The Packmaster… he was a different story. Julia hadn't liked him much better than Tony. Julia remembered their brief meeting.
*
Lawrence had circled the Rare One and was surprised at her. Hardly more than a girl, she had looked no different than any other female.
But for her smell, she could have been any college-aged student, roaming around.
But her smell was like the most rare perfume, small in quantity and potently lethal.
Agitating. Julia Caldwell drove under his skin and stayed there. The moon as his witness, he would be most glad when the Ritual of Luna and the mating were finished. He would lose one of his wolves and gain a legend. Freedom was within their grasp. Having a Rare One would solidify their leadership in the Pacific Northwest region forever.
A self-satisfied smile had curled his lips as he met Julia.
He saw that she regarded him with distrust. No matter—hers had been an easy life.
*
Julia had watched him assume everything about her in a glance and knew that he might be Packmaster, but to her, he was presumptuous, as well as just plain wrong. She had a trick or two up her sleeve. They thought her awakening powers were not fully formed. They assumed that when she'd heaved Tony against the fridge, she had been too much of a novice to do anything further to defend herself.
They were wrong. Julia was executing the equivalent of push-ups when she was alone in her room, levitating herself and all that was in her space.
She'd become quite good at it and had developed finesse, pushing herself for control in the short time she'd been there.
Claire would have been proud. Julia gulped against the lump that formed in her throat.
She glanced at Adi, who nodded back. Time to turn around. They turned where a great log had fallen, its form caved in with a secondary seedling growing out of the decomposition. Julia looked beyond it, into the deeper woods.
It was there that her escape lay.
As Julia and Adi ran, the werewolves fell in beside them, and Julia could feel the emotions around her. There was no way to block it out. She could not gain one ability without others showing up.
She had never wished for anything more in her whole life: another one like her.
A Blood Singer.
*
Four Days
He heard them as they came back from exercise and pressed his snout against the acrylic partition, which was made of a vile material that smelled like rotting plastic to his most sensitive organ. He smelled the female of his kind that fed him and the other.
He would know her fragrance anywhere. But it had changed. Something about that familiar scent was altered.
It didn't matter. Soon enough, when the moon was ripe and full, he would escape this place. He mourned what would be done to see it through.
But in the end, it would be worth it.
*
One Day
Adriana slipped into the kennel where the feral was kept and instantly felt the guilt grip her.
She hated seeing him.
He was the most beautiful of the Were she'd ever seen, with a coat so deep a red it was like wine, eyes so green they shimmered like emeralds. In fact, Adi didn't think there were jewels that looked as good as his eyes. But she'd been there the day he'd knocked off the head of her whelpmate.
He was dangerous—and crazier than a June bug, as her grandpa would say.
She had extra feral duty because she'd walloped that shitwad Tony in the head with the pan. No thanks that I saved the precious Rare One from a mauling. Oh, no. It's, “Adriana, Tony is superior. You need to show deference…” Blah, effing blah. Deference, my ass. Tony was a pain in all their butts. She figured she'd done everyone a favor. He had a very small brain, and after she'd thwacked his head, she hoped that maybe the swelling would enlarge it enough so he'd think.
Nah. Fat damn chance of that. He was back to asshat status as soon as he woke up.
The dick. Why he was even in line for the Ritual was beyond her. None of the men could see his cruelty. He wasn't good with the whelplings. He had to remind them constantly that he was dominant. Yeah? So what? They knew that. They didn't need their asses handed to them day in and day out.
Adi fumed inside the kennel, which was really a huge outbuilding. Her eyes went at once to the feral. He was in human form and she thought that unusual. He could partially change at will and didn't need the moon. However, he was invincible when it was full. Nobody entered then, unless there were three or more of them.
They'd learned that the hard way.
Adi felt guilty that he didn't get food or water one day a month. Actually, she didn't agree with keeping him like a zoo animal. Just because he was turned didn't mean that he was inferior to them.
*
He watched her approach him warily, very small for a female of his kind but wily, yes… very clever.
*
In his human form he stood six foot two with athletic build and sandy-blond hair. But the eyes were not green. She didn't know why they were not gold during the Change like everyone else's.
The Packmaster didn't know why he was a red. There were so few.
Adi had a speculation about it. The Alphas weren't keen on listening. Her brother would though. She would tell him tonight.
Adi looked behind her for a moment, thinking of Julia. What if…? No, it was too weird for words. It was impossible.
Sacrilegious.
She went forward with the food. It squirmed and whimpered in her clasp, its fate etched in its eyes.
*
He began to salivate before she pushed it through the slot with her wrist and part of her forearm vulnerable to injury.
The man sprung forward, scooping the prey out of her grasp, and lightly scratched her with his talon as she withdrew.
Their eyes met for a moment as she snatched her arm back through the narrow distribution slot. She cradled the arm against her chest, the blood from the scratch soaking her T-shirt beneath.
*
Adi had never been gladder for the two-foot-thick partition. She knew who would be the victor between the two of them if he escaped.
He was more Alpha than any she'd ever known. For the first time in her life, Adriana was scared of another wolf.
And she didn't scare easily.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
William did not have the kiss at his back. Gabriel wanted Julia back but not at any cost. It was a conditional desire.
William's was not. She would be his. Not the dogsʼ, not some other hapless runner with Singer ancestry. His.
He waited in the woods, the night but a promise, his brazenness in the darkest part of the forest a testament to his desire to retrieve her from the clutches of the mongrels, for tonight was their ritual. When the moon wept her fullness on the Were, they would change. They planned to feed and to consummate their hold on the Rare One. But for as long as William took breath, they would not succeed.
*
Blood Singers
Brendan
The Singer looked in both directions and turned to his sister. “I smell a vamp in these here parts!”
Jen rolled her eyes. Not everything was a joke! “Shut up, they'll hear you.” She folded her arms across her chest and gave him a look as if to say, Are you kidding me?
Brendan chuckled, grabbing Jen in a bear hug that left her without enough oxygen. “Knock it off!” she hissed. “This is serious!”
Brendan nodded soberly then went off in a fit of hysterical laughing.
Jen stalked off.
Broth
ers. She had three of them, all Singers, all with plenty of air between their ears. She was the only sane one in the family.
Brendan followed behind her. “Don't be mad. It's just—” He shrugged. “The intel says we've got a ʻbig dealʼ Singer wrapped up with the Were, but they've been wrong before.” Brendan made a bunch of noise kicking a stone that sat in a nest of leaves.
*
William turned his head, hearing a small sound not of nature half a mile east from his position. He stood, trapped in the shadows, the sun a dangerous heat, high and bright above the safety of the forest's canopy.
Had it been night, he would have discovered who made the racket. But because it was daytime, he had to remain where he was, steeped in frustration and anxious for the next step. His nemesis, the sun, rode above him.
All thoughts lead to one: Julia.
*
“Would you stop being so loud? If you know there's a vamp around, why would you provoke him?”
Brendan grinned, even though she took all the fun out of his antagonizing. “He'll fry like a tiki torch, sis. I want a front seat for that performance.” He smiled wistfully, and Jen rolled her eyes again. Her brothers had a death wish!
He saw Jen's face and laughed. “Nah. He'll have to park his ass in the woods or some skulk position like that until twilight comes. There's no moving until then. I'm just yanking his undead chain.” Brendan stretched his long body, and tight muscles corded and flexed with the movement.
Jen wanted to punch him. She had a two-part reason for this. One, he was just that sure of himself. Two, he could eat enough food for five people and still look like a GQ model. She scowled at him, and he grinned wider, his teeth flashing white in the semi-gloom of where they stood in the woods.
“You remember I've never been wrong before, right, smart-ass?”
“Ooh, language!” Brendan warned, the smile still plastered on his arrogant mug.
Jen contained herself with effort. “Listen here, buster. I'm part of that ʻintelʼ you blithely discounted. I'm precog—”
Brendan muttered under his breath, “A hell of a lot more than that.”
“Huh?” Jen said, narrowing her eyes on his.
Brendan threw his hand against his chest, fingers splayed. “What? I didn't say anything.”
Right, Jen thought.
There was a noise down low from their position, and Jen caught the flare of Brendan's nostrils just as he swung his head toward where the Were poured through a wide pathway, opposite their position, with two females.
The siblings crouched down simultaneously, peering through the thick foliage hugging the base of fir and cedar trees that grew like mighty companions. The fragrance was thicker than the air around them. Their eyes stayed trained on the enemy.
“What are they?” Jen asked in the softest voice, barely above a whisper.
“Were. And…” Brendan extended his neck, lifting his chin, nose in the air. “All Were but one of the females. She's Singer.”
Jen smirked in triumph. No kidding? Singer, huh? Like I said.
Brendan caught her self-satisfied look but ignored it. “There's something more.”
But when they looked again, the group had disappeared inside the compound.
“Damn!” Brendan said, pounding a fist on his jean-clad thigh. “Almost had it.”
“Had what?”
“What flavor she was,” he said, grinning again.
“Girls aren't ice cream!” Jen protested.
Brendan's smile widened. “News to me.”
Jen punched him a good one in the arm.
She used her knuckles the way he'd taught her. He leaped back as she swung. It was a glancing blow, but she'd made him flinch.
That felt good. She felt like a tiger on the prowl.
Brendan looked at her, rubbing the red spot she'd made, and smiled.
****
The Ritual of Luna
Adriana looked at Julia and thought she cleaned up pretty well. She eyed her critically, taking in the all-white ensemble. She couldn't help but connect the dots of symbolism. Virginal lamb led to slaughter. Actually, she didn't really know about Jules's background except she was still sort of hung up on her husband. The guy had been dead how long? For freakin' ever. Like, get over it yesterday. But Julia had hardly been able to get through talking about him to tell Adriana her story. Even she had to admit Julia hadn't had the greatest life. Parents dead at eight. Sent to live with crappy and resentful relative. Soulmate husband bled out by rogue Were.
That was troubling to Adriana. Why had the Were taken out the Singer? It was an amateur's move. She couldn't understand why he'd been a target at all. Any idiot whelpling knew that a werewolf could subdue a human without killing him. Hell! One of the Were could subdue four humans. It puzzled her. Something smelled funky, and she'd have loved to find out the cause of it. Of course, Adriana knew from experience that when she started sniffing around, her nose got slapped.
That pissed her right the hell off.
“Adi?” Julia asked.
Huh?” Adriana jerked her head up. She'd really been a million miles away.
“What were you thinking about?”
Lots of secret speculation. “Just distracting crap.” Partial truth.
*
Julia had the distinct impression that Adi had been thinking about something interesting. She turned and looked at her reflection in the mirror and couldn't help but think of Cyn. She'd have died to see Julia wearing white. It just wasn't her color.
She'd been told it was symbolic.
The dress had been made for her. Actually, it had been a standard size and altered to fit her. The bodice was simple and crossed underneath her breasts, leaving the tops exposed, and narrowed to her waist where the full skirt flared at the hip and fell to what Aunt Lily had called “ballerina length.” Thanks to Cyn, she knew that meant just above the ankle. The material was some kind of chiffon, filmy and light, opaque and lovely.
Julia wasn't nervous about their ritual. Her plan had been the same all along. She had her telekinetic skills down. When the werewolves were distracted by their fighting, she'd split. The chiffon getup was as retarded as they came for a badly hatched escape plan, but she'd spied keys, and she would use them. Could she hop in a car and drive away in princess white?
Yeah, she could.
She'd miss Adi. It figured that she'd bonded with a female werewolf in the den of iniquity. Geez.
She turned away from her reflection but couldn't help asking Adi, “You promise your brother will… beat Tony?”
Adi nodded her head enthusiastically. “He'll kick his ass.”
Julia gulped. “What if he kills him?”
Adi shrugged. “No loss for me. Besides, if he thinks he's Alpha enough to fight the big dogs, he can get all froggy and jump on the lily pad.”
Julia smiled. Adi was so like Cyn it made her heart ache. She turned away before Adi could see her expression.
*
But Adriana did see Julia's expression.
She frowned as she followed Julia outside toward the pavilion. Unease was forming in her mind.
Something was wrong.
Adriana would be watchful. But first, she had one final chore to screw with after she settled Julia in her position within the ring of the pavilion.
*
William
William stayed upwind of the mongrels and prayed for the breeze to stay as it was. He watched the sun sink low in the sky, washing the branches a sunset color.
The trees looked as if they were weeping, crying tears of blood. The visual analogy made William's smile.
Time grew short.
He was ready.
*
Julia stood by herself as people began to fill a great open gazebo. It was actually ancient in its composition. Great pillars held the roof above it, a hammered copper so green that not an ounce of its original bronze color showed through. The pillars had been made of marble, and the materials used were the
most incongruous she'd ever seen. Here, in the middle of an old forest full of trees more than one hundred years old, stood a structure that would have been more at home in Rome.
She looked at the scarred marble tiles at her feet, streaked with veins of gray and speckles of gold. The grout must have been some shade of white at one time, but now had a dove-gray hue from age.
All eyes were upon her when Lawrence approached. Julia took a step backward. His physical presence was so overbearing, his personality the same. Mega creeper, Julia thought, and not for the first time. Goose flesh broke out on the skin of her arms, which were bare to the weather. It was warm enough for what she wore, but in the presence of the Packmaster, she felt cold.
The chill of death sank its bite into her bones.
He ignored her unease and turned Julia in the direction of the crowd like a prize breeding mule. How flattering.
Julia had an excellent view of the seating built in a circle all around her. It rose out of the ground as an integral part of the pavilion, each seat a curved unit higher than the last. None of the faces were friendly. All were somber.
Julia guessed that some were not happy with the fighting and death.
Or with her.
She'd never been popular.
*
Tony and Joseph watched the fragile beauty of the Rare One, who was showcased in her rightful position in the pavilion, the Ritual of Luna nearly begun.
Their faces turned to the sun sinking behind the mountains—night and day balanced on the finest scale.
Finally, it tipped to night, and the moon winked its pale face into existence.
The glory of her fullness exerted an irresistible pull, and the men changed into their otherness in unfurling brutality. Flesh and bone burst, shifted, and sloughed onto the ground at their feet.
Their snouts came together, five in all, the challenge in their eyes unmet for a few moments more.
They trod out to the pavilion, to their destiny.
*
Julia watched them come, and her arms gripped the side rails of the great chair the Packmaster had forced her into as though she were royalty or something.
She guessed she was to them.
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