by Woods, Erica
I frowned over at Ruarc and tipped my chin at our female. When he followed my gaze and saw her unexpected, fragile state, he stiffened, a dark curse blaring to life in his eyes.
“Hope?” He grabbed her chin in a grip tight enough to make me bristle and turned her face his way. “What’s wrong?”
Front teeth dented her bottom lip. “I’ll just . . . I’ll sit in the middle, okay?”
Understanding pierced my chest with a sudden ache.
She thought we were serious. That we were fighting—because of her. Exactly the thing she’d been afraid of from the start. Family was important to our lost little waif. It was apparent in the hungry way she watched our small pack when we were together; in the way she hung on to every word when we relived tales of our past. Longing was carved into her tremulous smile, etched between the lines of her rare frowns, tattooed across the heart she wore outside her body for everyone to see.
Hope longed for family the same way I longed for everything I couldn’t have; with a deep, unending ache.
And I knew her. I knew my girl, knew how kindhearted she was, how she obsessed about the happiness of others. If she felt like she was causing a rift between us, I had no doubt she’d push us all away. In her mind, it would be the kinder thing to do, never knowing the very action meant to protect would instead destroy.
Without Hope, my world was devoid of light.
I dipped my head until my nose touched hers and lowered my voice to a whisper. “We’re only having fun, love. It’s how Ruarc and I interact. I annoy the crap out of him; he sometimes manages to land a lucky punch. Then we’re even.”
Ruarc still frowned, angry at a thing he couldn’t see and couldn’t fight, but he, too, lowered his head until she was surrounded by us.
Her males.
“We share,” Ruarc growled.
The dumbass probably thought those two words cleared things right up. He was so lucky I was there to carry him through these kinds of conversations.
“The old man is right,” I said. “It’s part of our charm.”
She bit her lip. “You sure? I don’t want . . .” She cast a quick glance at Lucien over my shoulder before pressing her trembling lips together. “I don’t want to come between you. You’re family.”
My shoulders tensed with the need to punch Lucien straight in the face. Whatever he’d said to her earlier that day—Ruarc had told me she’d refused to share exactly what’d happened—had messed with her head. I cupped her face in my hands, but before I could assure her of anything, her sweet, rose-lips distracted me and I just had to have a taste. I was just about to lean in and give them a lick when a shadow fell across Hope’s face and ruined my plans.
“You are part of the family now, Hope,” Ash said.
Our little female closed her eyes on a shallow breath. When she looked back, a veil cloaked her emotions.
I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it one bit.
“Thanks, Ash,” she whispered.
“Perhaps we should move on?” Lucien said, but his words held no bite.
Hope didn’t acknowledge him, didn’t give any reaction she’d heard him, but her hands twisted in her hoodie until the fabric went taut.
What the hell had he done to her?
I grabbed her busy hands, interlaced our fingers. Whatever had happened, I was firmly on team Hope. “You ready, love?”
“Ready?”
“The Assembly officially begins tomorrow,” Ash said. He claimed the chair opposite us, leaned forward, and stared intently at our female. “And tonight, it’s the full moon.”
19
Hope
While Ash patiently explained about the impact of the full moon, I sat frozen in place and tried to stop my hands from shaking. It didn’t matter that what Ash was saying was important. It didn’t matter that Lucien kept looking at me with an unreadable expression and making my skin prickle with his impassive scrutiny. It didn’t even matter that Jason and Ruarc had placed me between them on the couch and had one arm each slung behind my back. Despite the heat radiating off the walls of muscles surrounding me, I was cold.
The bickering between Jason and Ruarc earlier—no matter how playful—had started a downward spiral of unease that grew into doubt that morphed into fear.
And now I was stuck. Questioning everything. It wasn’t just my invisible scars that stood in the way of a relationship with the guys, my inability to make a simple decision or the fear that paralyzed me when faced with the possibility of hurting someone I cared for.
It was everything.
It was Lucien and the contempt he felt for me—would always feel for me, it seemed. It was Ash, the way he fanned the flames both Jason and Ruarc had lit inside me, confusing me with feelings I shouldn’t have. It was the secrets I had less than three days to spill and the betrayal that would bring.
But most of all, it was me.
Was it selfish of me to cling to them, to not let them go when all I did was create conflict? When just existing next to them put their lives at risk?
I cupped my stomach, as much to stop the waves of water that were my insides as to keep the dark being pushing against its bonds locked away.
The monster was growing in strength. I could pretend to ignore it, pretend it wasn’t happening, but it didn’t change anything. I’d felt it getting stronger, felt it beneath the surface of my skin like I was just a suit it had outgrown, a restrictive cover it was ready to burst out of, to peel away until it was me who was locked away, me who was trapped inside a cage made of skin and bones and muscle, me who was . . . lost.
And the monster the one in charge.
My palms grew damp, my throat constricted.
I knew the evil it was capable of. The evil I was capable of. And if I hurt these men . . . I wouldn’t survive.
“Hope?”
Four pairs of eyes stared at me while my wooden limbs threatened to topple me over from their inflexible weight. “Sorry.” I picked at the seam of my pants, wishing it weren’t too new for a thread to have come loose and distract me. “I . . . I wasn’t paying attention.”
“You okay?” The quiet rumble of Ruarc’s voice felt like a spear through the heart. When he tightened his hold and dragged me farther into his side, my lip trembled.
“Yes.” My voice came out shaky, so I took a deep breath, forced a smile, and repeated myself. “Yes. I was just thinking. Sorry.”
They didn’t need my concerns weighing them down, not now when I knew they needed to keep their focus.
“No need to apologize,” Ash said. His sharp gaze cut from my lips—I tried to keep them still—to my nose—it suddenly itched—to my eyes—they burned. The three seconds he kept me prisoner felt like a lifetime, but instead of calling me on my lies, something about him softened and the intense contact broke. “As I was saying, tonight is the full moon . . .”
He went on to explain that all the packs were invited to run together, so I shouldn’t be startled at the noise, but that we wouldn’t participate. He mentioned something about a hunt that I kind of tuned out—I’d seen Bambi and didn’t want any details—and some bonding exercises between the packs.
“Am I . . . am I coming to those?”
“Yes. Unfortunately it is not voluntary. All the packs and their members have to be present.”
When I tensed, Ruarc grabbed my hand in his much larger one, and I drew on his strength.
“But . . . I’m not part of the pack. I’m not a lycan.”
“Banajaanh . . .” Ash murmured, and the earnest look in those blue eyes—eyes that sometimes seemed as old as time and just as indifferent to human suffering—made my mouth go dry. “A pack does not have to consist of only lycans. A pack is anyone that is considered family and who shares the same territory.” He reached out and cupped my face, his calloused thumb smoothing over my cheek. When I leaned into the touch, his lips slowly tipped up at the corners. “Hope . . . You are that. You are pack.”
My heart lurched, tried to jump o
ut of my chest and dive into Ash’s. “That’s . . . thank you.” The words sounded thick, and I swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump in my throat. When that didn’t work and the silence became too much—I could hear their sympathy in that horrible silence—I changed the subject. “What are the bonding things you mentioned?”
Ash let me change the subject, leaning back in his chair and removing his touch as though he hadn’t just sewed one of the broken pieces of my heart back onto the throbbing, damaged mass. “It is various games created by the Council,” he said. “They vary from year to year, and pack members are not allowed on the same team.”
I would be playing with strangers? My throat closed. “But . . . but why?”
A dangerous growl thundered in Ruarc’s chest. “She’s with me.”
“You know that is not possible, Ruarc,” Ash said.
“My female will not leave my side!”
Jason leaned forward, half shielding me from Ash’s drawn face. “I have to say I’m with the old man on this.”
“What do you suppose will happen,” Lucien began, “if you break the rules on the first day?” He yanked at the collar of his shirt; hissed when the top button flew off. “If you make it clear you consider her”—he jerked his chin at me and I fought the urge to cower—“above the rules, you will play right into the Council’s hands.” He yanked again; another button went flying. “Damned thing,” he snapped.
Ruarc caught the third button as it went flying. He snarled and threw it back at Lucien, watching as it bounced off the narrow strip of pale, unblemished skin that was now revealed. “You suggest we leave her unprotected?”
My cheeks burned, but I couldn’t look away. It was barely any skin; just a small peek at Lucien’s chest—a chest that looked as cold and sculpted as the rest of him—but it felt intimate. Exciting.
Wrong.
Lucien didn’t like being ogled.
If I’d grabbed my eyeballs and thrown them at the wall, they would’ve moved with less force than I used when I snapped my attention to my lap.
“Not unprotected.” Lucien’s voice was curt, but I didn’t dare look up, not to see what he was doing or why Ash suddenly sighed.
“I called Blake earlier,” Ash said. “He will be over later and we can ask him to watch over Hope. They know each other and we can trust him. He brought—”
“The snake!” Ruarc interrupted with a growl. “He brought the snake into our home!”
They rarely used Tim’s name. I wasn’t sure if it was to protect my feelings, or if they just thought he didn’t deserve to be remembered.
“There is no need to shout,” Lucien said coldly. “I doubt any of us has forgotten what happened.” There was a short, tense pause where the room flooded with testosterone and the taste of brutal, male fury.
Jason recovered first. “Blake has always done right by us.”
“Maybe,” Ruarc growled. “Still don’t like it.”
“Neither do I,” Lucien agreed, and I was so surprised I nearly toppled over. “But what choice do we have?”
“Are you alright with this, banajaanh?” Ash asked me.
“If you think it’s best.” What did I know about lycan politics and the intricacies of the Assembly? The guys had never steered me wrong before, and I trusted them. It was myself I didn’t trust.
I lowered my eyes and stared at my hands. A slight quiver had me grip them tightly together to stop the weakness from showing. The longer this conversation went on, the more restless I felt. It wasn’t just worry worming its way through my stomach, it was a much more primal feeling. An urgency I couldn’t quite understand. An itch deep in my bones.
The way I kept shifting in my seat had Ruarc look down at me with a frown. “Mo chridhe.” He studied my tightly clenched jaw then looked over my head—exchanging a look with Jason most likely—before jerking his chin toward the door.
“Maybe we should take a break,” Jason suggested.
“No, I . . . Shouldn’t I know what we’re facing?” I knew Jason’s offer had been for my benefit, but I was tired of holding them back, tired of being the weak link. I’d survived too much to crumble.
A low grumble. “You should rest.”
I widened my eyes at Ruarc. “It’s a bit early, don’t you think?”
“No.”
“Well, I’m not tired.”
He bared his teeth in a grimace. “I am.”
“Then you go rest. I’ll be here, learning about the Assembly and preparing for the next few days.”
“Yes, Ruarc,” Jason chimed in, managing to both sound gleeful and patronizing at the same time. “You go rest. I’ll keep our girl company.”
A quick movement, a low oomph, and then Jason rubbed at his head while Ruarc glared. “Try as I might,” he said, “can’t seem to slap some sense into your thick head.”
Jason dropped his hand and flashed a grin. “Can’t give someone something you don’t have, old man.”
Ruarc snarled, then turned his glare on me. “We sleep together.”
“Well, then.” I crossed my arms and glared back. “You will have to wait, won’t you?” I didn’t know where my sudden bravery came from, but I had a sneaking suspicion the guys were to blame. They’d never hurt me, at least not physically, and I knew they’d never punish me for speaking my mind.
“Fine,” he growled, but not before he grabbed me under the arms and yanked me across his muscular thighs. “But you’re sitting right here.”
I wiggled my butt, heat shooting through me at the hardness pressing against me and the low growl tearing from Ruarc. “Fine,” I agreed, trying not to sound too happy about my small victory, but even I could hear the smile in my voice.
Strong arms wrapped around my middle, and a contented sigh slipped between my lips. I would never know how Ruarc always managed to make me feel so safe, so at home, but it wasn’t something I wanted to question. Having spent most of my life at the mercy of others, this feeling that Ruarc gave me, that they all gave me, was worth more than most other things in life.
At least to me.
The doorbell rang.
“The food!” Jason cried and jumped up. He rushed to the door, pressed his face flat to it, like he was hugging it, and positioned his body so that when he opened it—or rather, let a tiny sliver of air pass between the door and the frame—his body blocked the rest of the interior from sight.
While Jason argued with the person on the other side—their voices too muted for me to hear—Ash went to get some plates. “I want you to try the lasagna, Hope,” he said as he put a plate down in front of me. “There are several dishes, but I think you will enjoy that one the most.”
I shot him a grateful smile, happy I didn’t have to agonize about my choice, and pretended I didn’t hear Lucien muttering under his breath.
“I do not want you to worry,” Ash suddenly said. He nodded to Jason—who’d come back carrying a mountain of closed containers—and gestured to where he wanted everything placed. “Try to relax during the games. Once they are done and we gather before the Assembly, do not be scared. All the packs will have a chance to speak and bring forth complaints and suggestions, and we have several that will support us.”
A heavy ball of lead seemed to form in my stomach. I was worried, and what Ash was saying didn’t comfort. “Do we . . . do I have to speak?”
“No.” Ruarc squeezed my arm. “Nothing for you to say. This is all on me.”
“On us,” Jason corrected.
“What do you mean, on you?” I cast a worried glance from Jason to Ruarc, my neck cramping when I tried to crane it enough to look at the big man behind me.
“We broke the law, love. Not you.”
My eyes snapped to Jason. “What? This isn’t your fault! And besides,” I shook my head. “Humans are the ones not allowed to know about lycans. You told me I couldn’t tell anyone because you were responsible for my actions, and since I haven’t said anything, they have nothing to use against you.”
>
When I looked at Ash, I thought I saw pity in his eyes. Pity, and a fierce determination. It was enough to make panic claw at my throat.
“That is not exactly right,” he said. “But even so, no matter what happens, you will be protected.”
“And you?” I cried, looking at each of the men who’d been there for me, who’d helped me when no one else had. “Will you be safe?”
When no one met my gaze, the sound of rushing water filled my ears. My fingers tingled, my mouth felt all wrong, and something inside me cracked wide open.
My whole body tensed as I tried to close the rift inside me, tried to forget the terrible possibility that one of my guys could end up not alright. Each breath became a battle until dark spots danced across my vision.
Ruarc’s gruff voice sounded too far away when he called my name, and suddenly I was staring up at the ceiling. I blinked, frowning at the scarred, angry face hovering above. Ruarc was looking to the left, snarling curses. I followed his gaze to see Jason, Ash, and Lucien, all leaning down and watching me intently.
I was lying on something soft—the couch?—but I didn’t remember moving.
“What happened?”
Ruarc’s gaze whipped to me, and when our eyes met, I could have sworn electricity shot through every nerve ending in my body, leaving me frayed around the edges and filled with restless energy. “Don’t you ever do that again!” he shouted, eyes wild.
I shrunk back, my ears hurting from his bellow. “D-do what?”
“Don’t yell at her!” Jason snapped. “She fainted, you big lout!”
“I what?” My head swam when I shot up, my hand going to my forehead as the dizzy rush drained me again. “What happened?”
“You were hyperventilating.”
I followed the sound of that icy, crisp accent, surprised to see Lucien looking less than put together. Two more buttons were missing from his shirt, his hair was disheveled, and instead of spitting disdain, his expression spat lightning.
“Is that normal for a human?” he asked—not me, he didn’t even glance my way. Not when he brushed the back of his hand over my forehead, and not when that touch lingered for half a second longer than it would take him to feel if my skin was burning.
