by Woods, Erica
“I’m sure it is.”
A threatening growl that did nothing but make Jason’s grin widen, then Gideon turned back to his friend. “I haven’t been a pup in near three hundred years, Merrik.”
“Aye, and as I remember, I saved ye from a thrashing a time or two. Ye owe me, son.”
“Not so,” Gideon grumbled. “Debt was paid when I vouched for you with the bloodsuckers.”
“More hindrance than help, that was!”
“Still counts. Lycan ru—”
“I didn’t come here to listen to you two reminisce about old times.” The smallest alpha in the room wore a frown that bit into his smooth features and twisted his face into an ugly sneer. A wolf moved beneath his skin, but his exterior was that of a rat. “I came here against my better judgment and I don’t appreciate my time being wasted. Get to it.”
“Gene, Gene, Gene . . .” Lucien’s face appeared above Gene’s shoulders, and for a disastrous half second, the other wolf froze. “That is no way to speak to a fellow alpha.”
“Lucien,” Gene spat, trying—and failing—to appear as though another male had not taken him by surprise. “You’re not an enforcer. Why are you here?”
Lucien circled him, a mocking smile lifting one side of his mouth when a muscle in Gene’s cheek twitched. “My alpha’s enforcer is otherwise engaged. Jason and I thought it wise to accompany him in Ruarc’s stead. A happy coincidence, I think, seeing as I am much more . . . let’s say, informed of the people involved.”
An angry flush swallowed Gene’s face whole. “I will not stand here and be threatened!”
“And here I thought I was simply answering your question, but very well, tell me what threat you heard and I will, of course, apologize.”
The flush deepened. Gene could not afford for his secrets to be shared with the alphas present, and if it became known he was being blackmailed, he would be seen as weak. “Insulted then. Spoken down to by a beta.”
Lucien merely smiled, his lips a knife, the curl at the corners a mocking edge honed to cutting perfection.
Our spymaster was never more dangerous than when he smiled. Fangs hid behind the silk of his voice, claws flexed beneath a taunting civility. A cool, cruel Lucien might seem like the worse bargain, but it was not until he smiled that threats turned into fatal promises.
Gene went rigid, furious vessels straining against crimson-tinted skin. The alpha had reached his limit.
“That is enough.” I moved to the center of the room. “We are not here to posture and trade insults. Too much is at stake.” My gaze swept over the gathered lycans. Allies, enemies, those in between—it did not matter. They all watched with the same intent; assessing looks sliding across my skin, digging beneath the surface, trying to see through to my bones.
I was tempted to let them.
“Rederick’s law cannot be allowed to pass,” I said, pushing emotion, sensibilities, everything that wasn’t calm calculation aside. We had two votes we had to win to save our little human’s life, and it all began here. “It will cripple us as a species, keep us from procreating, and it will spark a war. Consider your own females before you make this decision.” I spun in a slow circle, allowing each alpha to feel the weight of my gaze. “And consider your borders.”
“Is that a threat?” Gene sputtered, his enforcer close to his back.
“It is a reminder.”
“A reminder of what?”
“The consequences of war.”
* * *
In the end, it was Blake who turned the tide.
“We are dying.” Tense silence met his declaration. “Oh, I know we don’t age, but that doesn’t change the fact that our species is headed toward extinction. How many lycans births have there been in the last five years? Less than a handful, I suspect.”
“Two.” The voice was quiet, almost soft, but strands of strength wove through the low timbre, wove through Wix himself. Many found his unflinching, dark gaze intimidating, but he was one of the few alphas who ruled with compassion and understanding. I suspected his mate, a tiny female nymph—a species renowned for their fragility and kindhearted nature—tempered the ruthlessness of the wolf and the wildness that lived in the male. “My mate blessed me with a child three winters past, and there was a birth in Chicago this year.”
Blake nodded. “Two lycan births in five years. And one of those is the result of a lycan mating a non-lycan.”
“What’s your point?” Barlen asked. The big, temperamental alpha divided his glare evenly between Blake and Lucien, his distaste for this conversation and the reason behind it clear in every reluctant line of his powerful body.
“My point is . . .” Blake set his jaw. “We need outside blood. And while Wix may have been lucky enough to steal a female from fae descent, that’s not an easy feat. For one, most the other species are in the exact same situation, and those that have unmated females guard them zealously. That leaves us only one option to ensure our survival.” He paused, and in that pause, his wolf bared his teeth. “We have to branch out among the humans.”
“Humans?” Barlen spat. “Weak, soft-minded humans? Have you lost what little wit you possess?”
Had Hope been present, I would have struggled against the urge to put Barlen on the ground and force his submission—and his humiliation. But with her safe in Ruarc’s care, the sharp bite of anger was felt then dismissed.
“It would, at the very least give us halflings,” Blake said. “Some will be born fully lycan, and those that aren’t . . . At least they carry our genes. Once they mature and mate, their offspring have a higher chance of being lycan.”
“A quicker way to extinction has yet to be suggested,” Barlen snarled. “Even if you could get over their disgustingly feebly bodies and equally feeble mind, the cost is too great. Even the half-blooded bitches who can’t Ascend require the same sacrifice—despite their lycan blood.” Broad chest heaving, dusky skin tainted by a sharp red, Barlen snorted; reminding me of the wild boars that had fed me during the first years following my last Ascension. “How long will our species survive if we start dropping dead hundreds, if not thousands of years before our time?”
“How long can our species survive when no new lycans are born? When every year our numbers dwindle, killed by Hunters, sacrificed by witches, drained by vampires lost to the Thirst, or slain in pointless dominance fights and pack skirmishes?”
“The answers do not lie with the humans! No, I say!” Barlen slammed his fist into his other hand, the sharp thud similar to bones breaking. Would he scream when his shattered? “Rutting with those filthy animals is bad enough, but taking them to mate? It should be outlawed, just as Rederick says.”
Again, that biting anger. Again, felt then dismissed.
“Watch yourself, Barlen,” Lucien whispered. The words were devoid of emotion, as cold as the male who uttered them. “We possess one such human.”
“And she’s already weakened you.”
Weakened us?
Everything stilled. I stilled. Bones groaned and creaked, the sound confined to a place deep inside. A place that was usually silent. I was vaguely aware of my head tilting, my neck bending, but all my attention remained locked on the male who suggested our female was weak simply because she was human. “In what way?”
When Barlen failed to reply, his wolf retreating, Gene assumed the other male’s crusade. “Rumor has it there will be a vote to determine your fate. A vote you could have avoided if you’d killed the human.” What had started as a hesitant claim became a hardened accusation, each word shaping then firming his own conviction. “That you didn’t . . . Well, it brings your loyalties into question. Your strength.” He moved onto his toes then rocked back on his heels, as though he had wanted to step forward but changed his mind at the last second. “Tell me Ash,” he said, and I wondered if anyone else heard the note of prey in his voice, “is her human life worth more to you than the lives of your pack?”
“She is pack.”
G
ene laughed, a dry hacking sound that rattled around in my skull.
I felt my head tilt farther; considered ending the source of that sound. There was no anger behind the thought, no heated emotions. Only a vague annoyance and a feeling of rightness, an inclination toward destroying those who could be considered a threat to the female we had claimed as our own.
The laugh stopped.
“A human can’t be pack,” Gene said. Instead of meeting my eyes, he stared at the spot between them. “And if that’s what it has come to, I don’t see why we should support you in any way.”
The cold presence of my beast made my thoughts shards of ice; cold and sharp and prone to melting when I held them too close.
But also transparent.
Destroying this male would weaken our position. The balance between wary respect and emboldening fear was a fine one. And it had to be preserved.
For the sake of my pack. My brothers. My Hope.
But Lucien was not bound by quite the same rules. “Do you not?” he asked and began circling some of the alphas like a wolf stalking a pack of tasty-looking bison. Weaving between them, ignoring their unease, he focused on those that had come only because he had given them no other choice. “Then why are you here? Those of you who came at my behest . . . You know what you stand to lose.” Each word was a lunge and snap of teeth, a bite to vulnerable ankles. Each pause was tantamount to a retreat, a time for prey to be lulled into a false sense of security before the killing blow. “And lose it you shall, unless you do as you’re asked.”
Lucien stopped right behind Gene.
“I don’t care what you threaten,” the smaller alpha said, chest puffing up with each heavy breath. “You’ll lose all your leverage if you follow through. And for what, a human?”
“I will lose all credibility if I do not follow through.” Lucien smiled. “So . . .”
“You’ll make enemies of us all.”
“I have many. A few more won’t make a difference.”
“Lucien collects enemies like a dung beetle collects shit.” Jason grinned, and to those that did not know him, he would seem relaxed and at ease. A shield, of sorts, that today was wielded as a weapon meant not to harm but to ease tension and foster truce. “It’s part of his charming personality.”
Lucien replied with a sardonic arch of a brow, but stepped back and allowed Gene to regain his equilibrium.
The next half hour passed in a blur of insults, thinly veiled threats, and finally open discussion. We secured nine votes—too few by far—but those who remained undecided might yet be swayed.
And if they were not . . .
My shoulder blades stabbed against flesh, wanting to tear through skin, to break and remold, to become instead of be.
But I maintained my shape, drew deep breaths, contained my wolf and forced my mind to leave the dwelling darkness behind.
Emotions control the body. You must control the emotions.
The short time she spent with my sire had taught my mother well.
Another hour passed—alphas and enforcers staggering their exits while we spoke to Gideon about the upcoming games—and then it was finally time to leave.
The morning sun swept over hills and valleys, caressing cabin roofs dotted throughout the landscape and glinting off windows as though greeting those that dwelled within. My wolf basked in the light, in the connection to nature, the earth beneath our feet and the wind on our face. But I could not find peace in the sun’s warmth. Not when our future remained this uncertain.
The thought of failing Hope had jaws clamp around my lungs
“That went as well as could be expected,” Jason said. “How do you think they’ll react when they’re told they have to vote with us for a second time?”
We had not pushed the last vote on the Council’s agenda—the one regarding Hope and our pack. Better to wait than to push too far and lose both. Those supporting us against Rederick would be easier to convince when the time came, and those that did not . . .
Another obstacle to overcome.
“Those indebted to me will not care,” Lucien said. “Voting against Rederick is a harder sell, for that is rejecting what they stand for; to throw away their hatred of humans and all things weaker.”
Jason frowned. “Hope is also human and they’ll be voting to save her.”
“Yes, but she is one person.” A hardening of an already tense jaw. “More importantly, it is voting with Ash. They can count on it being seen as a way to curry favors with one of the strongest alphas alive, and that is something even their allies can forgive. After all, what is one human life in comparison to a debt owed by a suspected mahír fáinn?”
A slow burning fire snaked through my belly. I allowed it to burn, to build, to blaze . . . And then, finally, to die out. One by one, I flexed my fingers, felt claws restlessly ache but obey.
I would not endanger my pack by losing control.
The road we were on narrowed and twisted between two cabins, edging both territories but crossing neither. “If we win the vote against Rederick, I have no doubt we will win ours as well.”
“And if we don’t?”
I looked at Jason, read the unease, the worry, the desperate choking fear that we would not be enough, that we would fail, and again, that quiet place filled with the snapping and creaking and breaking of bones. “We will.”
49
Hope
After Ruarc’s beautiful words to me that morning, nothing could bring me down. Not my failure to find Matthew, not the secrets that would change everything, not the insurmountable tasks that lay ahead or the crushing pressure of being out of time.
You gave yourself three days. Today’s the day. No more excuses. No more delays.
My stomach rolled uneasily and I blew out a breath, imagining all my worries dissipating into a burst of lovely blue skies.
Today was a good day. A glorious day.
Dazzling sunshine spilled between treetops and dove around branches, hitting rustling leaves and casting flickering shadows on the ground. The smell of pine and musty moss mixed with sun-heated earth, and despite the faint nip in the air, my skin grew warm.
Through the trees, I caught a glimpse of the circle where we would gather for the day’s first and only game. Though we’d walked for thirty minutes, this circle looked identical to all the others, with newly cut grass, an unnaturally flat surface, and tall trees guarding the edge.
“Why circles?” I asked. “And how do they get them so . . . neat?”
Jason spun around to face us, walking backward without once stumbling over the uneven ground. “Magic, love.” He grinned when I sucked in a breath. “This has been Assembly ground for millennia, created by the fae before the borders to Faerie closed.”
“The fae . . . They made all this?”
“Yup.” He sidestepped a bush he couldn’t have possibly seen, then waited for the rest of us to catch up and grabbed the hand Ruarc hadn’t claimed. “Lycans have always had a type of Assembly, but after the war; the devastation of losing all our females while so many of the males lost their minds to the fusing, we needed it more than ever.”
I forgot I was walking and froze with one foot in the air. “A-all the females died?”
“Yes,” Jason said while Ruarc growled, “No.”
While they glared at each other, Ash walked past us. “No one knows, banajaanh. Too much time has passed, too many truths forgotten.” He grabbed a low-hanging branch and waited for me to pass before letting it drop back down. “According to legend, a single female was fused alongside the males. She is thought to be the first and only female mahír fáinn and the only female to survive the war.”
My chest was tight. “So many dead . . .” What could possibly have sparked a war so terrible that a species’ whole gender was killed? “But if all the females died, how did the lycans survive?”
“That is yet another mystery, banajaanh. The second generation was born within the borders of Faerie, and we have neither memor
y nor the written word to tell us how.”
Before I could ask any more questions, we stepped out of the forest and onto the grass, and for the first time since we arrived, I could see why the Assembly was necessary. Though the games were brutal, they were also effective. Instead of each pack huddling together—only speaking with their allies and shooting distrustful looks at anyone who passed too close—everyone had gathered in groups of six; teammates talking in hushed whispers as they no doubt plotted the downfall of their competitors and strategized for victory.
Even the two halflings Ash had rescued were smiling with their respective teams, the woman blushing and throwing shy looks up at an uncomfortable looking Zakh while the enforcer stared straight ahead with a stony expression and a strange tic near one eye.
“Come,” Ruarc said when I stopped and stared at the sea of lycans. With a tug on my hand he pulled me along, glaring at everyone we passed.
As we walked, avoiding most of the lycans by sticking to the edge of the forest, I cast sideways glances up at Lucien’s proud profile. He’d been quiet all day and his continued silence was starting to grow deafening. “Lucien?”
Green eyes narrowed as they settled on my face. “Yes?”
I had no plan, no words prepared. Only a simple need to talk to him, to listen to his voice and see the heat that burned behind all that ice. “I . . . Never mind,” I whispered.
His eyes narrowed further, and I braced myself for a scathing lecture about wasting time and speaking when one had nothing to say. But to my surprise, he wiped all traces of emotion off his face, lowered his voice, and said, “Do not censor yourself, woman. Tell me”—his jaw clenched and his throat worked, as though his words were tar and he had to chew them pliable before spitting them out—“I would very much like to hear your thoughts.”
Eyes widening, I stuttered out a squeaky, “Oh!”
Jason grinned. “Who are you and what have you done with Lucien?”
