by Moira Rogers
Alec stood in the spot where Andrew had caved Hughes’s face in and stared at the bloodied ground. Hughes had signed his own death warrant, not only through pride but cruelty. Alec had been close enough to hear the hissed challenge, the threat that had turned Andrew from merciful to murderous. So which one of the pretty little bitches is yours? I’ll take good care of her when you’re dead.
Ten seconds for Hughes to mutter the challenge, and half that time to die. Hopkins had lasted longer, but his blood also painted the clearing, metallic and sharp, sullying the place that had been his only a short time ago. His and Carmen’s, where he’d stretched her out on the grass and let himself taste the sweetness of her mouth.
The first time. By God, it wouldn’t be the last.
Chaos reigned around him, loud voices and shouts, people arguing or just talking to hear their own voices, as if any of them could make sense of what had just happened. A coup, a revolution—
Not the end.
Cesar met his gaze across the twenty yards that separated them. Hope had filled the man’s face earlier, the need to believe that Hughes had been right, that Alec and Carmen had used a challenge to situate friends or family on the Southeast council. Even now, he looked uncertain.
Quietly, deliberately, Alec stripped his shirt over his head and let it fall. Cesar nodded, then glanced over to where Miguel and Carmen were taking stock of Julio’s quickly healing wounds.
“Enough.” Peyton didn’t shout, but his command quieted the crowd all the same. “Do we have another challenge?”
“Mine.” Alec hooked his thumbs in his belt and waited until Cesar looked back to him. “I picked the time. You pick the method. Do we fight as men or wolves?” Or not at all? A futile hope, but in the face of all the violence, all the blood, maybe Cesar would come to his senses.
Cesar began to unbutton his shirt. “We look each other in the face and fight as men.”
Which meant Alec would have to stare into eyes too much like Carmen’s and decide whether to end the man’s life. Clever and cruel—a gambit Alec couldn’t allow to succeed. “You refuse to yield?”
Another short nod. “I refuse.”
Alec hated the senseless waste of it almost as much as he hated how his wolf yearned for it. He was furious at being denied, ready to rend Cesar limb from limb. Rage still lived in his heart, and his knuckles itched to slam into flesh. To utterly destroy his enemy.
He sought out Carmen in the crowd and held her gaze for a moment. She met his stare evenly, with resignation but also understanding. He’d tried, and that was all he could do.
I’m sorry. He couldn’t say it with words, but they didn’t need words. They never had.
The blow came from nowhere, a dirty punch that slammed into the side of Alec’s head with a force that rattled his teeth. Someone in the crowd gasped, and Alec ignored the sudden murmurs as he recovered from the blow, resettling his weight and facing Cesar.
Fury etched the man’s face, as if being forced to fight angered him. “Couldn’t back down, could you, Jacobson?”
“No.” Alec shifted his attention to Cesar’s shoulders, watching for the minute clues that would telegraph the man’s next move. “You should back down. You’ve got nothing to win. All of the assets you transferred to Carmen and her brothers are gone.”
It ignited something wild in the other man’s eyes. “Then I have nothing to lose.” He snarled and crouched, his teeth bared.
Figured the greedy bastard would miss the point. “Unless you back the fuck down, and we’ll give some of it back.”
“Begging for scraps from a bastard like you? I’d rather die.”
Pride. Stupid, reckless pride, and Alec was going to have to kill his lover’s uncle because of it. “So be it.”
Time slowed, and an eternity passed before Cesar rushed him with a roar. The first punch barreled toward Alec’s abdomen, not too fast to dodge but so powerful that Alec could imagine how much it would hurt when he didn’t manage to wrench his body out of the way. Cesar was built like his nephew—not Miguel’s tall, lean form, but Julio’s compact muscle.
Pain prickled up Alec’s spine, the wolf clawing for the magic to burst free. The precious seconds needed to rein in the beast gave Cesar another opening, which he exploited with two quick, hard punches to the solar plexus.
Alec doubled over, a snarl escaping that wasn’t even mostly human. Only rage and adrenaline straightened his body, and he slammed into Cesar, exploiting the older man’s moment of self-congratulation. They both staggered back, Cesar’s boot slipping in the bloodstained grass, and Alec managed a half-hearted punch to the man’s gut before agony sliced through him again.
This time he could feel the fur just under his skin. If the wolf escaped, he’d lose. Cesar could put him down like a rabid beast and no one would think twice. A shapeshifter who couldn’t hold the form in which he was supposed to fight didn’t deserve the honor of victory.
Change, he silently begged as Cesar regained his footing. If Cesar changed, Alec could follow. Somehow he had to convince the man to do it, to let the animal free.
Somehow he had to stay alive long enough to do it, even with his wolf clawing him up from the inside out.
Cesar punched him in the throat and wheezed a laugh. “You’re dying to get to teeth and claws, aren’t you? Crazy bastard. I was there.” He shoved Alec away and stepped back, to the outer edge of the circle. “I was there when you challenged your cousin. You’re a fucking lunatic.”
The words could have been lie or truth, Alec didn’t know. He couldn’t remember who had witnessed the challenge, just the pounding rage as he killed his way through the purebred bastards who had thought any human who married a shapeshifter deserved to die.
His breath rattled out, sparking bright lights in the corner of his vision. He couldn’t speak in anything louder than a whisper, but it was enough. “If you were there, that explains why you’re scared to fight me as a wolf.”
“Scared?” Cesar’s eyes narrowed, and he kicked off his boots. “Crazy is crazy, man or wolf. Either way, I’ll destroy you.”
Stupid is stupid, man or wolf. Anticipation shuddered inside him, and Alec fumbled with his boots, tearing out the tongue of one and nearly ripping off the sole of the other. Barefoot, he could feel the blood drying on the grass, tacky and warm.
So much pain. So much rage. He’d tried everything he knew to stop it, to let Cesar yield. So much for a bloodless revolution. It had started in blood, and now it would end that way, with two wolves fighting to rip each other open.
He could only hope Carmen would still be able to look at him when it was over.
Cesar stripped off the rest of his clothes and hunched in the grass. The change flowed over him, leaving a snarling black wolf in his place. Alec let his pants fall and followed suit a moment later, pain and fear vanishing in the wild giddy rush of power and magic.
This was who he was. The strongest wolf. A predator.
He pounced, and Cesar met him full-on in the middle of the clearing with a crash of bone and hard muscle. Heavy and bulky, but still slow. With the wolf as his giddy ally, Alec was faster.
He landed the first bite, a vicious clash of teeth that should have closed around Cesar’s throat but hit his shoulder instead. Alec clenched his jaw and hung on as Cesar twisted and clawed and finally wrenched free, tearing the flesh of his shoulder in the process.
No more mercy. No more chances to yield. Alec charged, ruthlessly pressing his advantage. He tasted blood and fur as he bit down again and again, driving Cesar across the slippery grass.
Cesar growled and stumbled, fell. There was no final surge, no last-ditch attempt to drive Alec back. He struggled to rise and failed, his eyes wide and desperate. His sides heaved, and he kicked at the grass as blood welled from his wounds.
Kill kill kill.
Alec took one trembling step backwards. His rear paw slipped on a leaf, and his claws dug into the dirt.
Bite. Rend. Win.
&nb
sp; Another step as the wild creature inside him howled protest. They were stronger. Better. They deserved triumph, and their enemy deserved death.
He lifted his nose. Scented the wind. So many smells, so many people. But she was there, so attuned to him that he thought he could pick her heartbeat out of the crowd. Racing. Scared.
She would understand the need for total victory. She might even forgive him.
Alec didn’t want her forgiveness and understanding. He wanted her trust and pride.
If becoming a wolf had been easy, finding the shape of a man was a trial. The wolf was confused, edgy, but with their adversary brought low he was no longer frantic. Alec called magic and felt the change, maybe a few seconds slower than usual, but soon he knelt on the cool grass. Naked. Bloodied.
He wiped his face on the back of his arm and ignored the streaks of red as he rocked to his feet and turned to find one man in the crowd. Diego Mendoza. Carmen’s father. Victory lurked in his eyes—the knowledge that he had a son on the council now. Diego had risked his youngest son’s life and had nearly killed his daughter, all in a quest for power, and Cesar’s death would bring that power one step closer to his grasp.
Alec had no intention of letting Diego win. “Come here and get your brother. If a doctor can hold him together, he’ll live.”
The victory melted into confusion. Diego started forward, then stopped.
A growl rose up, and Alec didn’t check it. “Now.”
The command broke the man’s paralysis. He rushed to his brother and picked him up, blood soaking into his shirt. His gaze found Carmen, then darted to Alec and away, and he carried Cesar off through the crowd.
“Diego.” Not a shout, but it cut through the unnatural stillness nonetheless. The man froze and looked back, and Alec felt his lips turn up in what must have been a chilling smile. “You and your brother have until midnight to get the fuck out of my state. You won’t come back. You won’t contact your children. If they want to talk to you, they’ll call you. If you have a problem with that, you can challenge me now.”
The last bit of triumph faded from Diego’s expression, and his lips barely moved as he spoke. “Understood.”
He left in silence. Alec bent and pulled on his jeans, though he didn’t bother with his shirt or boots before glancing over to where Andrew stood. The man walked forward, heeding the silent summons. Julio followed, a little more slowly, though all but the worst of his wounds had already closed.
They stood beside him, and he turned to find the final two members of the Southeast council—Alan Reed and William Levesque. Reed stood with his younger brother, both immaculately dressed and wearing identical blank expressions, though Alan’s jaw tightened whenever he looked at Julio.
Levesque, on the other hand, looked scared, his hands in tight fists, his eyes darting about the crowd, as if wondering who else Alec might pull from among it to challenge the only remaining council members. Good. That fear would keep them in line for the time being.
The final murmurs around them faded as Alec fixed his attention on Reed. Traditional words and forms didn’t matter—there was nothing traditional about what he was about to do. “I lay claim to leadership of the Southeast council, and the right to sit on the Conclave as its representative. You can challenge me for that right, if you’d like, but Andrew Callaghan and Julio Mendoza stand behind me.”
Judging from their expressions, the men had already made the connection—anyone who cared to go against one of them would have to face all three. It wouldn’t hold the challenges at bay forever, maybe not even for long, but today…
No one spoke up. No one dared.
Alec slanted a look at John Peyton. “Well?”
“Are we done?” The Alpha surveyed those gathered, but silence reigned, and he pulled himself up to his full, considerable height. “I hope everyone here will listen and heed my words. The next time anyone has grandiose ideas of the wealth and power to be garnered through our leadership, remember one thing. Leadership. If you can’t or won’t set a positive example for those you aim to lead…stay the fuck out of it.”
It was better than Alec had hoped. It was damn near validation, and everyone standing there knew it. Word would spread—to the other councils, to the men who had considered vying for a spot on them. To turned wolves like Andrew, who had never in the history of their people managed to have a voice without having that voice taken away.
The culminating achievement of Alec’s life, most would say, and he might even agree. But he didn’t want his parents’ proud smiles or the satisfaction of seeing respect in the eyes of strong leaders. He didn’t want the wariness in the gazes of those who knew their own closets held too many skeletons, or even the relief and happiness that filled the faces of his friends.
He looked to Carmen, who stood still and pale, her cheeks wet with tears. When his eyes met hers, she broke away from the onlookers and ran to him.
He hurried to meet her, unwilling to touch her with blood under his bare feet. Her body barreled into his and he closed both arms, savoring her warmth. Soft and alive, she was his. His muse, his life, his lover.
His.
The crowd didn’t matter. Alec buried his face in her hair and whispered, soft and rasping. “Let me feel it.”
She dragged in a rough breath, and her emotions enveloped him. Fading sadness and fear, eclipsed by relief and pride and a need so sharp it almost cut.
The air left his lungs in a ragged sigh, and tension unraveled as he held her. Needed her. Loved her. This was what made it worth it, what would keep making it worth it while they fought their way up an impossible hill. The little bits of life that were nothing but sweetness and light.
Shapeshifter society had been dark for too long. Together they could turn up the sun.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Alec watched the dust cloud from the final unwanted visitor disappear down his driveway and let out a quiet breath. “So,” he said to Andrew, who stood at his side, “how’s it feel to go down in history?”
“Pretty damn surreal.” The young wolf kicked at a piece of gravel. “Thought they’d never leave.”
It had taken them three hours to extricate themselves from sycophantic new admirers and faux-sycophantic enemies hoping to spot a weakness. Julio handled it with practiced ease, though his straightforward bluntness had blanched more than a few prissy faces. Alec was used to having the well-bred wolves stare at him as if he had two heads. Andrew, though…
Well, he’d get used to it too. He’d have to. “It helps that they expect you to be as ass-backwards and uncivilized as I am. My reputation can precede both of us.”
“Yeah.” Andrew squinted at him in the dying light. “So, it’s our job to take care of shit that goes down around here.”
“Yeah. We can do it different. Make alliances with other people. Psychics, the lions, the spell casters.”
The younger man nodded. “I want to look for the guy who attacked Kat. They still haven’t found him, right?”
One of a hundred loose ends Alec wouldn’t have time to deal with now. “No. I can probably get you the surveillance footage from his escape, and any files Jackson has. I’m sure he can help you out.”
Andrew shoved his hands in his pockets. “What about you and Carmen? Headed to New York soon?”
“We’ll have to spend some time there. Maybe a lot of time.” Alec’s gaze drifted to the other side of the drive, where Carmen stood with Julio, Miguel—and Kat. Though her hand was curled tight around Miguel’s, Kat’s gaze kept darting to Andrew with a furtive desperation Alec recognized—she was reassuring herself he was still in one piece.
He wanted to say something, but even he learned a lesson if you hit him with it enough times. Andrew would talk about Kat’s safety, but he wouldn’t talk about Kat. Alec changed the subject. “You and Julio will need to run the day-to-day stuff here. But we’ll have a few months to settle in. Get the lay of the—”
“I’ve got to go,” Andrew cut in with a ra
sp. When Alec looked up, he found Andrew turning away from Kat and Miguel and their joined hands. “Tell Kat that I—fuck.”
Six months ago, Andrew had stood in this same driveway as a newly made wolf, every instinct focused on Kat. He’d needed her so hard he’d hurt her, uncertain in his strength and the demands of his body. Sometimes Alec thought that each second the man had spent training since had been a desperate attempt to find control, to convince himself a fragile human woman would be safe in his arms.
Six months might not be enough. Six years might not be enough. Alec knew all too well how terrifying it could be to ride that edge of control and wonder if letting go would hurt the person you loved.
Carmen’s quiet empathy had given him peace from that fear, but there was nothing quiet about the power in Kat. Too easy to envision a thousand ways she and Andrew could hurt each other—kill each other. No easy answers there, and nothing he could say to comfort Andrew.
He still tried, because magic hung in the air and, for the first time in years, Alec wanted to believe in happy endings again. “Life cycles around, Andrew. Sometimes we get second chances. Maybe yours will be with her, or with someone you haven’t met yet. But trust me. It can be just as good the second time around.”
The declaration startled a grin out of Andrew, a broad smile that made him look, for just a moment, as laid-back and carefree as he’d been as a human. “You’re a hopeless fucking romantic.” He clapped Alec on the shoulder and dug his keys out of his pocket. “Congratulations.”
Alec returned the smile. “Go get some rest. Sleep late tomorrow—it’s the last chance you’ll get for a really long time.”
Andrew started to his car, and Alec turned toward Carmen again, but stopped when Jackson ambled down the porch steps. He lifted a hand, and the wizard shook his head with a laugh. “How’s it feel to be the big cheese around here?”
“Always have been, man.” Alec jerked his head toward the path around the house. “Walk with me?”
“Only if ‘leave the gun, take the cannoli’ isn’t going to be part of the conversation.”
