by Woods, Erica
Wanting to see the stage—it was important I knew who the Council were and how they acted—I wriggled in Ruarc’s grasp. When he looked at me, I pointed to the stage and back to my eyes, indicating I wanted to see.
A fierce frown overtook his hard features, and he shook his head.
I blinked back at him, trying to think of a way to explain without words—no way was I going to speak again and risk putting my guys in danger.
“Let her see, Ruarc,” Ash said, surprising me.
Feeling my eyes rounding comically, I pointed to my lips and back to the stage.
“Yes, love.” Bending down in front of me, Jason gave me a quick peck on the lips before throwing me onto his shoulders and lifting me into the air, chuckling when I squeaked in protest and clung to his hair for dear life. “You can speak now. And you can watch.”
“P-put me d-down.” The way I was going, I’d tear out big chunks of his hair, but I was not comfortable sitting this high or in such a precarious position. And the burning sensation between my shoulder blades told me we’d attracted attention I definitely didn’t want.
With a snarl, Ruarc yanked me down, grunting in satisfaction when Jason yelped—several strands of hair caught in my clenched fists. “Good,” he said, and although his face remained set in stone, a spark of humor could be seen deep in his silver eyes.
Very deep.
“For god’s sake, put her down and let her watch,” Lucien said and made a small space in front of me, between himself and Ash, letting me see the two people arguing on stage.
The woman facing off with Samuel was far from pretty. Her features were too boxy, her face a nearly barren landscape dotted by a narrow mouth, a small nose, and wide yet pointed cheekbones. But there was no mistaking the power in her compact body, nor the determination in her steely, gray eyes.
“That’s Marissa,” Ruarc grunted and let me slide down his body until I stood on my own two feet. “Only female alpha.”
“Why aren’t there more?” My eyes were glued to the powerful woman ahead. How would it feel to be respected, maybe even feared, by men twice my size? “Female alphas, I mean.”
Ash’s face was carefully blank as he looked at me. “There are too few females, and too many unscrupulous males.”
“What does that mean?”
While Ash tilted his head in the strange way he sometimes did when his feral side was close to the surface, Lucien took over the explanation. “There is an unfortunate mindset prevalent among lycans that prohibits females from reaching positions of power.”
“What mindset is that?”
“Might makes right.”
A tremor went through me at the terrifying truth. Might did make right. Or not right, but it certainly gave people who had power an excuse to hurt those who didn’t. It had happened to me, and I wasn’t naive enough to think mine had been an isolated incident.
“That’s . . . that’s terrible.”
“It really is, love.” Worry filled Jason’s eyes as he looked at me. “And it’s more complicated and much more nuanced than that. But in lycan culture, to be alpha you have to be able to defend the title. And most females simply aren’t strong enough. Not physically.”
“Then how did she become both an alpha and a member of the Council?”
“No one knows how she managed to take over her pack, but she got a seat on the Council by challenging an old Council member. Instead of fighting, he gave up his position and no one has dared challenge her since.”
That made no sense and I told them so.
“The alpha Marissa challenged was strong,” Ash said. His gaze never left Samuel. “His easy capitulation made it seem like he knew something about Marissa’s power that no one else did. And since a challenge for a Council position most often ends in death, no one wants to risk it. Not against such an unknown.”
It made sense. Marissa certainly looked confident, and there was an air of mystery about her, of secrecy.
Before I could ask another question, two more males walked out on the stage—several others following. While the rest of the Council members made their appearance, Jason whispered information about each one in my ear.
Soon, twelve Council members stood side by side, looking more like an army than political leaders. Instead of swords, they possessed rending claws and teeth that tore flesh from bones. Instead of armor, they were coated in layers of snapping, snarling power. Instead of shields, they carried with them the confidence of predators, the cunning of time, and the cold, calculated indifference of beings that answered to no one.
These were the lycans I had to persuade to go to war?
Just looking at them had all the little hairs on my body rising in protest, tiny little warning flags screaming at me to run away before I got eaten by the big bad monsters.
My plan was ridiculous.
And I knew it.
Not only did I have to find a way to convince the Council to join my battle against the Hunters while keeping my guys from fighting at our side and risking their lives, but I also had to survive the Assembly and pray that the leaders of the lycans wouldn’t kill me outright for breaking their laws?
You can’t convince them of anything if you’re dead.
I closed my eyes.
Vote first. I’d worry about the rest after.
Though my stomach felt ready to revolt, I forced my eyes open and back to the Council just in time to witness the arrival of their last member.
A whimper lodged in my throat, quickly joined by a ball of raw nerves. Neither escaped. They just sat there, making my breath choppy and my lungs feel like they were too small.
The lycan sauntering across the stage wore a face that carried hints of something familiar, but that wasn’t why I wanted to flee.
No, what kept me rooted to the spot while my feet ached to run was the stark contrast between his strikingly attractive features—a straight nose, a strong chin, high cheekbones, full lips, and a mane of wild, unruly hair—and the chilling indifference glittering in eyes the color of the night sky.
That midnight-blue, frozen gaze swept across his fellow Council members, briefly sailed over the heads of all the gathered lycans, and dismissed us all as inconsequential.
“That’s Vern,” Jason said. He didn’t have to tell me he disliked the man, it was obvious from his hard tone and the way his hand tightened on mine. “He is the alpha of the Hills.”
A shudder ran up my back. Vern had just smiled at the female Council member; a brief, charming grin that left his cold, unfeeling eyes as empty as the barren surface of the moon. “What hills?” I whispered back. For some reason I was afraid of catching Vern’s attention, terrified of being caught in the trap of his soulless gaze.
“That’s the name of his pack, love. He claimed the name when he killed the previous alpha and hasn’t changed it in all the centuries he’s had control.”
“Is he . . . is he very powerful?” I wanted the answer to be no. The way he looked at the rest of the lycans reminded me of the way the Hunters had looked at me and the other captives—like we were nothing. Less than nothing. Playthings that existed purely for their amusements.
“No more so than the others on the Council,” Lucien said. “His territory is relatively small, but he wields his influence like a professional politician. Fortunately, he cannot expand without crossing a line even he would be loath to cross.”
“What line is that?”
Revealing his teeth in a smile that was more bloodthirsty than I’d thought him capable of, Jason said, “Victor’s. Vern owns Main, but Victor rules everything from New Hampshire down to New York.”
“This Victor guy, he isn’t on the Council?” I had already forgotten most the names and information Jason had whispered in my ear, but I could have sworn Victor was not among them.
“No, he is not.” Ash glanced up at Vern, a strange look in his eyes. “But that is only because he chooses not to be.”
Before I could ask what he meant, Samuel took a
step forward, cleared his throat, and addressed the crowd. “You all know why you are here, so I will spare you a long, boring speech and instead remind you of something that some of these proposed laws make me think you have forgotten . . .” His lips curled up at the corners in an expression I’d never call a smile. It was too deadly, too threatening for that. “It is not in our best interest to war with the humans.”
Angry mutterings made their way through the crowd, a few harsh voices shouting questions I had no hope of hearing.
But Samuel did. And he did not look please. “Unfortunately, it is not my decision.”
Deep in the crowd to our right, someone threw out a statement too warbled for me to catch.
“Of course the humans are not strong enough to exterminate us,” Samuel snapped. “That was never a part of the equation.” His thick brows lowered, his glare lashing the few who’d spoken. “But they are many, and their weapons are deadly. Though they would not win the war, they could ensure many lycan deaths, and our numbers are not what they once were. Would you risk a single female’s life when it could be the difference between our species going extinct and a chance for us to thrive?”
A deafening silence followed.
“Consider carefully before you cast your vote.”
Only when Ruarc stroked a path down my arm did I realize I was shivering.
“Cold?” he asked.
Mute, I shook my head, unable to tell him my tremors were not caused by the cold. I couldn’t even blame them on Samuel’s overwhelming presence. No, I was shaking like I leaf because I’d been right. Becoming the victim of Vern’s attention was just as terrifying as I’d thought, and the way his cold, empty gaze remained locked on my face had bile rise in my throat and my stomach cramp with terror.
What had I done to capture his attention? Whatever it was, I wanted to undo it. Right now.
With a grunt of disagreement, Ruarc wrapped both arms around my middle and pulled me tight against his front. Heat seeped through his clothes and into my body, but it was the security of the big male’s protection, his love, that unraveled the tight knot in my belly and allowed me to relax against him.
“Knew you were cold.”
“Thank you,” I breathed and pressed my face into his chest, blocking Vern from my mind as well as from my line of vision.
It took me several minutes to realize Samuel was still talking and I’d missed the majority of his speech.
Stupid, Hope! You have to pay attention!
“As we have done each year, we will start the Assembly with a few different games to allow for the possibility of fences to be mended and new connections to be made,” he said. “As usual, alphas and enforcers will be the team leaders to permit the lower ranking members of the packs a chance to scope out a possible new home.”
“What does he mean by that?” I whispered.
With both Lucien and Ash preoccupied and Ruarc busy glaring at all the lycans around us, Jason once more took on the responsibility of educating the human in their midst. “Sometimes lower ranking wolves are picked on by the rest of the pack. Letting them serve under a different alpha for the duration of the games give them the opportunity to discover if another pack may be amenable to accepting a new member while also letting them see how they’d be treated.”
“But can’t they just leave their pack if they’re unhappy?”
“Lone wolves are seldom welcome anywhere, love. If it hadn’t been for Ash and the others accepting me, I would probably have been killed trying to cross territories in search of a home.”
My eyes immediately filled with tears. Imagining Jason alone and afraid nearly broke my heart. “I’m so sorry, Jason,” I said quietly and grasped at his hand. Staring up into his beautiful, amber eyes, a fierce determination to always keep him—and the other guys—safe and happy filled me with renewed purpose. “But I’m sure the first pack you came across would have accepted you. How could they not? You’re kind and funny and—”
“Be quiet and pay attention,” Lucien said. His tone was cool, but not biting, and he didn’t turn to look at us, just stood there, shoulders rigid; attention locked on the Council. “This is important.”
I wanted to growl at him and shout ‘so is this, so is Jason!’ but Jason distracted me with a tender smile. He mouthed the words ‘Thank you’ and gave me a wink.
A warm feeling bubbled in my chest, and I smiled back, probably looking like a love-sick fool but for once not caring what anyone else thought.
“Alphas and enforcers!” The booming voice came from the smallest man on stage—although small was relative when surrounded by giants. “Tomorrow you may do your choosing, but tonight, we feast.”
34
Ash
The day after the full moon was usually easier than the day before. Calmer. But not this time. I felt the moon’s pull as keenly as the days leading up to its peak. Violence would mar the games this year if other packs were similarly affected.
And yet . . .
With my beast pushing against its restraints and Samuel so near I could taste his power on the wind, I should have been engaged in a fierce battle with my wolf. But standing this close to Hope, her scent comforting me with her nearness, the heat from her body reassuring me she was alive and well, there was no need to battle.
Her presence soothed both man and beast, and my only concern was keeping her safe.
“Are you alright, banajaanh?” I gently extracted her from Ruarc’s hold and dropped to my haunches in front of her. I did not care how it looked to others—I was unwilling to tower over her when tension lined the corners of her eyes and her gaze remained fixed on the ground.
Her head jerked up. “What . . .” Small hands curled around my wrists and tugged. “Get up.”
“I am fine right here.”
“W-why?”
I reached out and cupped her chin, marveling in her trust when she leaned into my touch, eyes fluttering shut. “You were staring at the ground.” I felt my lips curve, wishing she would understand the joy she had brought into our lives. “I rather prefer you look at me and felt my chances were better here.”
Her eyes flew open. “I will, just . . . Please stand.”
Watching me lowered before her bothered my sweet human.
Strange.
I got to my feet, drawing her close with a hand between her shoulder blades, the other tipping her chin up. “You do not need to be afraid.” Command infused my tone, and her small body shuddered.
“I’m okay.”
A roar from somewhere in the crowd gave lie to her claim. She jumped closer, human fingers finding their way to the nape of my neck, entangling in my hair. Had she been lycan, had she been anyone else, I would have had her on her back with her belly bared and her throat exposed.
But she was Hope, and hers was the one touch I would never deny.
I brushed my cheek over her temple, breathing in her scent and willing mine to surround her, claim her, warn the world what would happen should she come to harm. “We will eat, observe, and then we will return to the cabin.” I had noticed she did better when she knew what to expect. There were many reasons a person would develop that particular need, but the reason growing in my mind like dark clouds ready to spit thunder was as chilling as it was sinister. It fit with what else I knew of her, of her scars and her behavior . . . And it all came back to the horrors she had faced in her past. After all, a person who had lived their life without control, without choice and a say over their future, would be prone to anxiety when faced with the unknown.
“Stay close,” I said, forcing my body not to betray my thoughts, “and pay attention.”
“To what?”
“Everything.”
* * *
It did not take long for the gathering circle to go from a plain expanse of grass to a fully equipped barbecue haven. Shovels were used to dig shallow pits, grass and leaves and branches were moved away, and rocks were placed in circles to create safe fires.
Lyc
ans gathered in groups based on packs and alliances, the strongest claiming the best spots while the weaker dotted the outer edges of the clearing. Smoke soon filled the air, reminding me of another place, another time, and the scars I carried ached like fresh cut wounds.
The hand that had not let go of mine since the Council descended from the stage squeezed once. I looked down at the small human by my side, and Hope met my gaze head on; no fear, no hesitation. She had caught glimpses of my beast, seen flashes of the madness that had driven me the day when flames had devoured my old life, and yet she looked at me with concern—not for herself, but for me.
“Are you okay?”
So earnest. So innocent. So wholly unprepared for our world. Yet her resilience surpassed that of any supernatural I knew.
I tipped my head and gentled my expression. “When you are here, banajaanh, always.”
The scent of smoke gave way to that of roasting meats. Deer and moose and even a few mountain goats; animals felled in yesterday’s hunt.
Lucien went to gather food while Jason searched for our allies. Ruarc and I remained with our female, the only obstacles standing between her and all those who wished her harm.
Quick looks were tolerated. Lingering ones were intimidated with a glare from Ruarc. But the menacing ones—overwhelming the others in number—were carefully noted by us both.
“W-who are they?”
I looked to where Hope was pointing, to the outer edges of the circle where the fringe wolves restlessly paced. “Wolves looking for new packs.” A small male limped over to a tree and used its support to slide to the ground. “And those too weak to be considered valuable to their current ones.”
“That’s . . . horrible. Shouldn’t we help them?”
Hope’s expression carried so much compassion, I could not bring myself to tell her most of those wolves would break her neck before accepting her help. “The Assembly is made to help. Unhappy wolves will observe all the gathered packs and approach those they deem a good fit. Someone will welcome them.” Not all alphas cared only for physical strength. Omegas could stabilize big packs where tension ran high and challenges were a daily issue. Weak betas were compassionate and made good peacemakers. And those who had endured life at the bottom of the hierarchy often possessed the kind of valuable traits that were forged by adversity. Traits like wit. Endurance. An inclination toward mercy.
