Pack and Coven

by Jody Wallace

  “So?”

  “If shifters don’t like the fact that we lock our wolves away and have powers they don’t, it might not go well.”

  “That’s jumping to a pretty big conclusion. They tolerate independents.”

  She noticed he sometimes referred to the wolves as “they” and not “we.” “You believe that, with the situation you’re currently in?”

  He shrugged. “Millington’s pack is prehistoric. So are most of the Southern packs. Indies just don’t go south.”

  “A lot of packs are like that,” she said. “The bond causes such fierce loyalty, packs can be less than philanthropic. They’re blind to humanity in general.”

  He nodded slowly. “So you hide from the wolves.”

  “If they knew what we could do, what we are, they might try to bond us to the packs. We aren’t sure what would happen if they tried.” She shuddered. “Alphas can control us, the same as any indie. Less ethical people might abuse that.”

  Something flashed across Harry’s handsome features. In a serious voice, he asked, “Have I abused you?”

  “I…” She’d let this happen to herself, hadn’t she? She’d known all the variables going in. He hadn’t. He’d demanded and dominated, but he’d assumed it wouldn’t affect her.

  “You even told me I was being bossy,” he said.

  And he had been, but Goddess, it had felt so right to give in. How could she possibly be alpha? Her body had been one giant pulse of joy as she released her self-control, trusting Harry to take care of the rest.

  “I could have said no,” she told him, not sure it was true.

  He closed his eyes. “I’d never have pushed you into anything.”

  Her throat tightened. “I know that.”

  That’s why Harry was independent, not pack. While he’d seemed to enjoy mastering her in bed, he had no desire to run anyone’s life. First thing tomorrow, before her house protections faded, she’d beg the coven to protect Harry. It was her duty to let them know what had happened, and they’d figure it out anyway. Covens had a nebulous link to one another, and their coven had stronger connections than most.

  “Of course, you did push back,” he observed. “You’re alpha too.”

  “Are you saying I abused you?” Alphas did have more ability to resist other alphas—if they wanted to.

  Harry, shaking off his disquiet, gave her a slow grin. “My alpha’s bigger than your alpha.”

  “If you say so.” The smile was a good sign. His hostility had dissolved like sugar in hot tea.

  He wound one of her curls around his finger. “I hope you have condoms. I assume we could get pregnant?”

  Where had that come from? They’d been discussing alpha dynamics, the dangers of discovery and the meaning of life. Not sex. She was about to sprout her first full-body fur coat. That would put a damper on things.

  “Level with me.” Harry stared down at her. As far as she could tell, he didn’t have an erection, but that could change. She was nude, and he was thinking about condoms. “Why were you reluctant to sleep with me? You know you can trust me. Too stressed out? Too tired? Too soon?”

  “It’s—”

  He cut her off, realization flashing in his eyes. “It’s because I found out the truth. You’re afraid we’ll realize you’re shifters.”

  “That tends to happen.” The witch in question generally experienced his or her first change shortly after the sex whether the wolf put two and two together first or not.

  “I promise you, June, I won’t tell. We’re already sharing secrets. What’s one more?”

  The problem was, this secret would tear her apart. As a teenager, the wolf had been a constant gnawing in the back of her soul. When she’d finally conquered it, when she’d cast her first spell, it had faded to nothingness.

  But it was back. Or it had been. She’d sensed it rise to meet Harry and take over her awareness, her passion. The only question was when her body would shift to match it. A delayed change like hers was rumored to be a sudden, violent process, but she didn’t think the coven librarian would appreciate a 1:00 a.m. phone call asking for details.

  “One more secret is the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

  Harry kissed her, eyes twinkling. “Have a little faith.”

  Lionel from the Millington pack was a former witch who’d been lured to the hairy side years ago. He didn’t remember. The coven had ceremoniously poppied him—standard operating procedure. Many witches had remained friendly toward him, inasmuch as they could, but he was a shifter now. He wasn’t the same.

  That would be her. Poppied. Changed. She’d forget the pertinent details of the coven, her friends, her family, her magic, her life. The coven would alter whatever was needed to maintain the veneer, and all witches, including family, were complicit after a wipe. Too much was at stake. She’d think she was an indie shifter who worked in a tea room—but everything else would be different.

  The enormity of what she’d traded to sleep with Harry crashed into her, and she closed her eyes.

  “Look at the positive side,” he continued. “When your magic comes back, you won’t have to hide anything from me. There’s no reason we can’t continue to have sex.”

  “That’s the other part of this.” June took a deep breath and tried to be strong, but tears escaped her anyway. She never cried. This was terrible. “My magic’s not coming back.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She couldn’t look at him. June turned her head to the side, squeezed her eyes tight. “If we become intimate with a shifter, your wolf calls ours to the surface. That’s why you sensed it. I’m like you now.”

  For a moment he didn’t answer. Then he said, “Is that what they tell you?”

  “It’s true.” The New York coven was in serious need of shoring up because they’d lost so many members. Apparently the wolves in that area were persuasive. And horny.

  “You must be an exception.”

  She opened her eyes. “I felt the wolf inside me, Harry. I haven’t felt her in years.” And years, and years. “My magic is gone. I’m a werewolf now.”

  “I know you think you are. Your wolf isn’t unbound.”

  “How do you know?” Her voice cracked. “Have you ruined the lives of a lot of witches?”

  Harry rolled off her and presented his back, hunkered at the edge of the bed. “That was a low blow. I know because your scent marker tells me. You’re nowhere close to shifting.”

  “I felt it.” June curled in on herself. “I don’t know why I haven’t shifted already.”

  “Because you’re not going to. Your wolf’s so buried I only noticed because of the…degree of exposure.”

  “Really?” She sat up, hugging her knees.

  “I’ve been told I have a capable nose.” He shrugged, muscles rippling.

  “It is supposed to happen fast.” She tried not to acknowledge the hope surging inside her as wildly as the wolf had before. What if she were resistant? She racked her brain, sorting through her knowledge of shifter sex. The only thing that came to mind was just say no. “I thought you could help me through it.”

  He waved her off. “It’s not going to happen.”

  “It happens ninety-nine percent of the time.” She had no idea what the actual statistic was. When young witches faced the choosing, they had a lot of assistance. It’s how they emerged on the other side with magic instead of fur.

  “That’s not a hundred.” He bent his head, rubbing his face with his hands. “When you had sex with me, you thought it was going to change everything, didn’t you? You thought you’d lose your magic.”

  “Yes,” she said in a very small voice. A chill goose-bumped her skin.

  The muscles in his back tensed. “Why didn’t you say something?”

  “I tried.” Her face burned, and she plucked the raised pattern on the chenille bedspread. “I’m sure being a shifter is great. You like it, don’t you? I shouldn’t have said that thing about ruining my life.”
>
  “This is my fault.”

  “It’s not.” June reached for his shoulder and stopped herself. “We aren’t allowed to tell anyone, not even… Sometimes the shifter never finds out. That makes it easier.”

  “I’ve already found out,” he snapped. “Now what?”

  She wished she could slip into something more comfortable—like a robe. Or a hairshirt. During a quarrel, her nudity seemed out of place. She pulled the bedspread until she could wrap it around herself. “Covens have ways of dealing with exposure risks the same as packs do. We consider transformed witches a risk. If they submit to a pack bond, they might spill the beans for the betterment of the pack. Then we’re all in trouble.”

  “Are you saying they’ll kill you?” Harry asked, horrified. “Honey, I’m flattered, but it wasn’t worth dying for.”

  “That’s not how it’s handled.” June wished he’d turn around, at least halfway, so she could read his expression. “We alter memories.”

  “What about me?”

  “Er.” Now she was glad he had his back turned. “You’ll have to forget a few things too.”

  “Or not,” he growled. “This is bull crap.”

  “It’s for everyone’s safety.”

  “It’s for nothing.” Harry whirled and grabbed her shoulders. “Nobody is laying a hand on you. You’re coming with me when I leave tomorrow.”

  “We discussed this.” His body weighted the bedspread, dragging it off her shoulders. She tugged. “The pack will catch us if the coven doesn’t, and this Gavin guy? In my voice mails the coven didn’t mention him.”

  “Hell.” Harry glared at her. “Woman, you have the worst timing in the world.”

  “Must you have such a trucker mouth? This wouldn’t have happened at any other time.”

  “So you say.” He flicked her cheek with a finger. “I guess that means you haven’t been champing at the bit to get me in bed for eight years.”

  “No,” she said. The man was as changeable as…as a shifter.

  “Too bad. That would be kind of hot.” He released her and ran his hands through his hair, giving his scalp a scratch. “We can’t change the past, but we can plan for the future. Are you still against setting out tonight?”

  “We’re safe here until morning. The coven thinks we’re gone, and the wolves can’t sense us from outside.” She updated the house protections every morning like clockwork, before coffee. They hid irregularities for twenty-four hours minimum. “After that, I can’t cast spells, so it’s anyone’s guess.”

  “With Bianca’s lockdown, you’re right. There are probably photographs on every shifter’s computer between here and Indiana. Not all of them will be as clueless as Roanoke. So after, say, 10:00 a.m.—”

  “Seven.” She was an earlier riser than Harry.

  “After eight-thirty, if we stay, we’re toast. If we run tomorrow, we’re toast—but at least we’re on the move. This is assuming your magic doesn’t come back.”

  “We’re toast.” Without the coven, there was no way to avoid it, and would they help or erase? She wrapped the bedspread more tightly around her. This was all her fault. She could have saved Harry, but she’d thrown it away to sleep with him.

  It was as bad as a horror movie, where anyone foolish enough to have sex got slashed by the killer. She’d be sure not to wander outside in a skimpy nightgown to investigate strange noises.

  “There’s got to be something we’re not considering.” His fingers rat-a-tatted his side of the bedspread. “Is there any way you could convince your coven to hide us?”

  She shook her head. “They’re going to know I shifted, so even if they hide us from Bianca, they’re going to wipe us. I hope they let us stay together. I…have a soft spot for you, Harry.” The coven knew how much June cared for him and teased her frequently—when they weren’t suggesting libido-dampener recipes.

  He glanced up and smiled. “I have a soft spot for you too.”

  Nothing about their current situation should be giving her butterflies, but his statement did. Heavens, she was a silly person.

  His gaze dropped to her knees, covered by the bedspread. In a thoughtful voice, he said, “If you don’t shift, what happens then?”

  “I don’t know.” As the minutes ticked by with no sign of her wolf, more and more optimism filtered through her gloom. Surely she’d have transformed by now. Instead, she felt normal—or as normal as anyone did who’d survived a car wreck, feuded with a pack, drained herself of magic and had sex with her best friend in the past several hours.

  “If I’m a witch, we return to plan A,” she said uncertainly.

  “Which was?”

  “Hide here until I’m strong enough to disguise you better.” If she didn’t shift, it could fix a lot. She’d have enough magic to protect Harry as long as her friends didn’t interfere.

  He stretched, his muscles bunching. “I’ll agree to stay here because I think your magic’s coming back and you need to rest. So 9:00 a.m., sharp, we’ll drive the Caddy to Roanoke. If you can disguise me, great. If you can’t, I’ll drive twice as fast.”

  “Roanoke?” His hatred of Gavin had surprised her since she’d never known him to dislike much of anything. And now he wanted to drive straight into Gavin’s territory? “That’s where the Householders are from.”

  “Exactly.” He finished his leisurely stretch, his spine cracking. “They’re here, not at home. Their pack is a weak spot in the lockdown. Everyone knows indies aren’t safe in Roanoke, so why would we go?”

  “The police will pull us over if we speed.”

  He scooted closer. “That can be plan B. Get arrested. If the police take us down to the station, the shifters can’t touch us.”

  June sighed. If only it were that easy. “The coven can.”

  “How so?”

  “I can neither confirm nor deny that we have representatives in law enforcement.”

  “Don’t be defeatist. All we need is magic and luck. Do you feel lucky?”

  “Punk,” she responded automatically.

  Harry laughed, his teeth gleaming. He reclined on the bed, fluffing a pillow. “It’s settled. Why don’t you pack a bag in case we have to move fast? Most women don’t like to travel without underpants and shampoo and stuff.”

  “Um.” She knew shifters were comfortable with nudity, but parading in front of Harry, starkers, caused her to flash hot and cold simultaneously. So did the image of him settling onto her bed as if he intended to sleep there. “If I could have some privacy?”

  “You’re kidding, right?” He rolled to his side and gaped at her. “I’m the one who took your clothes off. I know what’s under there.”

  “I can’t help it.” Heat flooded her cheeks. “There’s an extra blanket in the hall closet you can use to sleep on the couch.”

  “Now I know you’re kidding.” He patted the pillow beside him. “Long day today. Long day tomorrow. Quit wasting time.”

  Her bed was queen-sized, but she didn’t know how restful a companion he’d be. “I don’t sleep nude.”

  “Then put something on. Christ, woman.” Harry toed off his socks. She had no idea when he’d lost the boots.

  Something else occurred to her. “What will happen to my clothes if I shift?”

  “You’re not going to shift.” He unbuttoned his pants. “But hey, if you’re worried, sleep naked.”

  Okay, she was no longer convinced she was going to shift. How…liberating. She’d research later. The more timely question was, if she were resistant to the call of the wild, would it be taboo to sleep with a shifter…again?

  No. Be sensible. They needed rest. She, in particular, had magical energy to recoup. “You’re not planning on sleeping naked, are you?”

  Harry halted with his thumbs in his waistband. “I guess not.”

  June inched off the bed, dragging the spread. Harry shook his head and stripped his jeans down his legs. His boxers were plain blue cotton.

  “Better set the alarm,” h
e recommended. “I’m beat.”

  She should finish restocking her kit. Toss clothes in a suitcase. Sterilize her worktable. Run the dishwasher—she wouldn’t want to leave the house with a dirty kitchen.

  She should do anything besides slide between the sheets with him, the memory of what his hands and tongue could do to her far too fresh for comfort.

  In the end she put on panties and pajamas, Harry smirking the whole time, and climbed in bed. He rolled over, kissed her and punched his pillow before settling down with a satisfied groan.

  “Comfy mattress,” he said. “Thanks for sharing. Your new couch is pretty, but it sucks.”

  “You’re welcome.” Her couch did kind of suck.

  She waited to see if he’d say anything else, but he dropped off to sleep almost immediately, his weight and warmth an unfamiliar but reassuring companion.

  Chapter Nine

  Harry jerked awake, listening intently in the darkness. It wasn’t daylight. June’s even breathing remained undisturbed. What had woken him?

  Then he heard it, the scuff of paws in the grass outside. He wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been a shifter.

  Harry allowed his wolf to emerge enough to heighten his physical abilities. He padded to the window. The drapes were drawn. No lights on in the house. Carefully, he pushed aside the lace to study the yard.

  Nothing. He couldn’t see hide or hair of the animals he’d heard.

  June still asleep, he slunk through the house, checking locks. He didn’t know what June’s magical protections muted. Sound? Smell? No reason to take chances. He paused in the kitchen where he’d cracked a window earlier and listened intently.

  Scritch. Click. Whuff. There it was. Front of the house.

  If the wolves had found him, there wasn’t much he could do besides hope June had another spell up her sleeve.

  Or he could dial 9-1-1 and pray the cops got here fast. He grabbed the portable phone and headed for the picture window in the living room. There he concealed himself behind a bookcase. Several large shapes paced around the Caddy under the awning. Tails wagged and noses sniffed. One wolf reared up and gazed into the driver’s seat, claws ticking the metal door.