by R. J. Blain
“What is it, Frank?” Desmond asked.
With six hands pawing at me, I didn’t care what my Second wanted, so long as they didn’t stop.
“I was just checking in to make sure Richard’s fine.”
Wendy giggled. “We’re taking good care of him. His coat’s full silver. Want pictures?”
“Obviously,” Frank replied. “I was worried when I felt him change.”
I’d forgotten about that; while I was aware of when someone in my pack changed, it happened so often I filtered it out unless it was accompanied by a sense of anxiety or danger. My pack, on the other hand, always paid attention to my changes—and they worried.
Frank was the most sensitive to my shifts between human and wolf.
“I suggested he show off his winter coat to my daughters,” Desmond replied.
I flicked an ear at his failure to mention Luke, but the Desmond found the spot right under my chin and I groaned.
“Well, he definitely sounds happy enough. What are you doing to him? He’s projecting through the pack bonds.”
Desmond snickered. “His chin, and my daughter and wife are helping. If Nicolina decides to join in, we might break him.”
“Get video if you can. I’ll pay top dollar for it,” Frank said before hanging up.
“Come on, Nicolina. You have to feel this. He’d make the most amazing blanket, Dad.”
“You aren’t skinning Richard for a blanket, Lisa.”
Nicolina frowned, but slid off the counter. My wolf stilled as she approached. “He can’t be that soft,” she scoffed. “I’ve touched Dad before. Dad’s not all that soft. Neither’s Mom.”
“I’m telling you, Nicolina. Try it!”
“Girls, be polite,” their mother scolded. It didn’t stop her from undermining her efforts by rubbing her hands over my chest, which felt as good as Desmond’s scratching under my chin. I presented my belly, tucking my paws up.
“Fine,” she grumbled, kneeling next to me. She stretched out her hand as though expecting me to bite her in revenge. I kept as still as I could, my wolf anticipating her touch.
She grabbed hold of one of my paws, and with lethal precision, ran her fingers between the pads. The fur and skin there was particularly sensitive and my toes splayed out.
“He is soft,” Nicolina whispered.
My heart raced as she briskly ran her lithe fingers around my pads, holding my leg still as she tortured me with her touch. When the tingling turned to a more nefarious tickling, I whined.
“Nicolina,” Desmond scolded.
“What?”
“You can pet him, not torture him.”
“But he’s so soft,” the girl with the fire in her eyes replied, all innocence. She did stop tormenting me long enough for me to catch my breath.
“I told you so,” Lisa said, sticking her tongue out at her sister.
“Try his chest or stomach, his fur is softest there,” Wendy suggested, shifting aside to make room for Lisa and Nicolina.
Between Nicolina digging her fingers into my chest fur, Desmond’s ruthless pursuit of my chin, and Wendy and Lisa’s attentions on my back, I ceased caring if Desmond’s daughter wanted to kill me, so long as she didn’t stop what she was doing to me.
Desmond left me to his mate and daughters to finish breakfast. I lost track of the time, eyes half-lidded as they sat around me. Lisa was using my shoulder as a pillow while my head was nestled on Wendy’s lap. If it weren’t for Nicolina so close to me, I would’ve fallen asleep. She kept a wary watch on me, as though expecting me to take a bite out of her sister and mother.
Her hatred of me didn’t stop her from stroking my neck when she thought I was asleep.
“Richard,” Desmond called. I sighed, and after Lisa got off me, I staggered to my feet. The first few steps I stumbled, and the room did a flip flop. I hit the floor hard, blinking as I tried to figure out why my paws weren’t cooperating with me.
“Richard?” Wendy asked, her tone sharp with concern.
Nicolina smirked at me, dangling a little pouch in her hand.
“Nicolina, what have you done?” her mother shrieked, grabbing for the bag. Nicolina squeaked, recoiling.
My wolf didn’t like the stench of Nicolina’s fear. I struggled to get on my feet, growling as I came between the two women. I swayed.
“Nicolina Angelica Desmond,” Desmond snarled. “Drop it.”
The force of Desmond’s command hit me like a hammer between the eyes. I don’t think he meant to project the order at me, but I swayed and slumped to the floor beside the pouch.
“Wendy, call Frank. Tell him to get Luke out of Seattle, and if he doesn’t, I’ll come and hunt them both down. I’ll leave Frank alive,” Desmond ordered.
“Charles,” Wendy gasped.
“Do it.”
She scrambled for my phone and slapped her hand over it, unlocking the screen with a swipe of her finger.
When a member of my pack drew near, I felt them in my head. While whatever Nicolina had done to me fogged my thoughts, one of my pack drew near. Alarmed, I lurched to my feet, my gaze focused on the door.
The bell rang. I bared my fangs, snarling, bracing my legs to remain upright.
By Fenerec code, if Luke challenged me, I had to fight him. Anyone between me and him in the pack could stand in my stead—if they were in the area, which they weren’t. To make matters worse, my wolf was as groggy as I was. Desmond snatched up the pouch and opened it.
I felt Desmond’s fury rise, wafting off of him like the shimmering heat of the desert. The bell rang again, and I was torn between protecting them from Luke and protecting Nicolina from her father’s wrath.
I chose Nicolina.
Biting Charles Desmond was perhaps the dumbest thing I had ever done in my life. I sank my teeth into his arm above his wrist, drawing his attention from his daughter to me. The sharp, sweet taste of his blood flooded my mouth.
Desmond froze. I kept growling, locking my jaws.
The pack bonds tied all of my wolves to me, and recognizing my death in Desmond’s eyes for turning on him, I shut it down link by link, cutting off my connection to my wolves. When I fought him, I’d fight him alone.
When Desmond finished with me, they wouldn’t be aware of my death or subsumption until it was too late. Desmond didn’t add wolves to his pack of two. He killed.
I met his gaze and didn’t flinch away. It was a wolf’s challenge, one he had to answer with violence or I would prove dominant. The yellow of his wolf gleamed in his eyes.
I released him, fangs bared. I waited, pinning my ears back. Hunting wolves remained silent, and my growls died away, legs splayed out for better balance, my head ducked low to guard my throat.
My cell rang.
“Charles?” Wendy whispered.
“Don’t answer it,” Desmond replied, and in the deathly quiet of his tone, I heard his acceptance of my challenge. “Take the girls upstairs.”
Wendy left my phone on the counter and fled, taking their daughters with her.
As was proper, I stood still and waited for him to change.
Fenerec didn’t speak, not in words. In his wolf form, Desmond was a little smaller than I was, and with a silent gesture of his head, he led me into the family room near the front door. I followed warily, still unsteady on my paws from whatever Nicolina had dosed me with. It wasn’t silver; it didn’t burn. If anything, it left me feeling almost pleasant, like being drunk, except it would prove a great deal more lethal than a night out on the town.
Part of me recognized the sensation, but I was too dim-witted to chase down the memory and too focused on Desmond to care.
Death was better than allowing Desmond to strike his daughter because of our feuding. My wolf had made his intentions clear. Fenerec lived and died for their mates, and any bitch capable of outsmarting us and taking advantage of our weakness was worth fighting for.
It didn’t matter whether or not Nicolina was actually my mate, my human desires
were equally simple; I wouldn’t allow Desmond to hurt his little girl, not because of me. Whatever she had done left me trembling. While I wanted the position of the archway between the living room and kitchen, Desmond pointed his nose in the direction of the big picture window. I wanted to tuck my tail and roll over, but as the challenger, I couldn’t risk lowering my gaze or my guard from him.
He had the right to the first strike, and when he came at me, I wanted to be ready for him. It wouldn’t save me, but I wasn’t going down without a fight. I settled in, once again lowering my head to protect my throat, my gaze never leaving his. Without the pack bond to lend me strength, I doubted I would survive his first blow.
Desmond met my stare, his eyes glowing brighter than the room’s light. Muscles rippled under his fur as he prepared to launch himself at me.
If we were to race, he’d beat me. He crossed the room in a single bound, landing within reach. I snapped my fangs at him, pulling out a tuft of his belly fur as he rose up over me on his hind paws.
The window shattered behind me, showering me with shards of glass, which bit into my back. A yelp burst out of me. Something—someone—struck my spine from behind moments before Desmond’s weight crashed down on me, driving me to the carpet. His hind claws tore at my side and he used me as a jumping board.
The breath whooshed out of my lungs and the room spun around me in slow circles. Furniture cracked and broke with the splintering tear of wood. A wolf yelped.
It wasn’t me. Desmond wasn’t on me, savaging me as was his right as the challenged, leaving me to wonder who the other wolf was.
I shook my head to try to clear it and yipped as shards of glass tore through my fur. Shuddering, I panted for breath, my paws twitching as I gathered enough strength to make a second effort at getting up.
The startled gasp from across the room captured my attention.
Nicolina stood in the kitchen clutching a revolver, one that looked like it belonged in the wild west, complete with bone grips. Lifting the weapon, she shifted it from me towards her father, cocking the hammer. Narrowing her eyes, she aimed, and with a pull of the trigger, she fired.
The explosive bang was immediately followed by the thump of a body hitting the floor. My mind went completely blank as I stared at Desmond’s daughter. Glass crunched beside me, and Desmond appeared, his red coat drenched in blood. He lowered his head, his nose brushing against my throat.
I sighed and waited, unable to find the will to rise for a final defiance. His fangs dug into my scruff, and shuffling backwards, he pulled me away from the window and the broken glass in short jerks. Nicolina scrambled into the kitchen, still clutching the revolver. Once he had me where the carpet met the tile, he released me.
With a snorting huff, he stepped on my neck with his paw, pressing down in warning. I bared my fangs at his delay, incapable of doing anything other than voicing a low growl. I felt his teeth dig into my fur, and my growls ended in a yipping whine as he pulled a shard of glass out of my back. He kept me pinned with a paw and warning snaps of his teeth while he burrowed through the fur of my back and side, snatching large fragments and jerking them out.
Then, he turned to his daughter, and with slow deliberate motions, he pointed his nose at her before pawing at the glass on the floor. Turning, he walked away, leaving me alone with her. I watched her in a pained daze, wondering if she’d take advantage of her chance to finish me off for good.
She set the revolver on the counter and eased her way towards me, careful to keep out of the reach of my fangs. I watched her, turning my ears back as she drew close enough she could reach out and touch. Human fingers were far more deft at pulling glass shards out of fur. I shuddered each time she found a piece embedded in me.
When Desmond returned as a human, he pointed at the staircase, snarling at his daughter until she left. My blood stained her pale hands. Without a word, he resumed Nicolina’s work, using a hairbrush to aid in finding all of the pieces. I rested my head on the cool ceramic tiles and listened to my cell phone ring until Desmond got up and silenced it.
When he got the last of the glass out of my fur, he swept it up and tossed it into the trash before stepping over me. He hesitated. “Your wolf’s dying.”
I should’ve known better than to meet Desmond’s gaze. He was on me as soon as I made eye contact with him, his knee braced against my neck, restricting my breath. He pressed his face to my muzzle, breathing in deeply. I whined, but because of his hold on me, I couldn’t expose my throat or my belly. He eased his grip with his knee, stroking his hand down the length of my nose.
In my weakened state, I couldn’t shut the pack out forever. My control wavered and crumbled. Luke wasn’t dead, not yet. His pain rippled through my bond with him, and steeling myself for the inevitable, I hoarded his last moments and sheltered the rest of the pack from his death. With his interference of a challenge, he’d brought his end on himself. If Desmond’s daughter hadn’t killed him, Desmond would have.
I could’ve exiled him for his actions, severing his ties to the other wolves, but I left it be. Unless I or Desmond told them, they’d never know Luke had died violating a challenge and betraying me. I waited, shuddering as the silver bullet blackened his blood and leeched away his life.
When he was gone, I found the strength to utter a mournful howl.
I missed two hundred calls by the time Luke finally died and Desmond fetched my phone, turning the ringer back on. He showed me the display, and when I stared at him in a dazed haze, he leaned against the arch, one foot braced on my shoulder to keep me from moving.
He dialed a number, and I recognized Frank’s voice on the other end of the line. “You may bring yourself and one other to my residence to dispose of the body,” he replied. “I recommend Sanders as your other. He’s well versed with the disposal of corpses in this area. You may bring a witch of Sanders’s choosing as well.” Without waiting for Frank’s reply, he rattled off the other Alpha’s number and hung up on my Second.
I wasn’t impressed and tried to convey that with a glare. In my state, it wouldn’t surprise me if the pack thought I was the one who had died. Desmond’s call wouldn’t help matters any.
When the phone rang next, a smug Desmond showed the display to me. It was my brother. I turned my ears back as he answered, “Desmond.”
There was a buzzing in my ears that made it impossible to hear what Alex was saying, but it didn’t matter. The thought of my brother drew a whine out of me, which Desmond answered by kicking me in the shoulder hard enough to draw a yelp out of me.
“Is that so,” Desmond replied, not sounding very impressed with what my brother had to say. “Well, Mr. Murphy, listen carefully.”
I should’ve known Desmond was going to do something nefarious in revenge for my biting him. He dug his heel into one of the larger gashes on my side, twisting his foot until I whined. When the whine didn’t satisfy him, he pressed harder until I yipped and yowled.
“That is your brother. I haven’t killed him. However, a wolf did die for violating my territory and attacking his Alpha from behind. Tell them this, Mr. Murphy. I will return Richard when I bloody fucking feel like returning him. Am I understood?” He hung up without waiting for an answer.
“What am I going to do with you?” Desmond demanded, prodding my side with his foot. I shuddered.
“Charles?” Wendy asked from up the stairs.
“What do you need?” he replied, stepping away from me so he could look up at his mate.
“You didn’t kill Richard, did you?”
“Of course I didn’t kill Richard. Nicolina, however, somehow found her way into my gun safe and seems to have acquired some silver bullets. Would you happen to know anything about that?”
I heard the jangle of keys. “Why would I know anything about that?” his mate replied, her tone sly. “I told her you’d probably forgive her if she grazed you to stop the fight. Did she hit you?”
“You clever bitch,” Desmond replied with adm
iration in his voice. “No, she hit the other wolf.”
“The other wolf? She shot Richard?”
“No, the other one.”
“How many wolves are down there?” Wendy demanded.
Blood made a mess of scents, I remembered after a moment. There was so much of it she probably couldn’t tell anything other than the fact it came from a Fenerec. I considered testing my luck and struggled to roll over.
Desmond stepped on my neck to keep me in place. “Two: one dead, and one too stupid and stubborn to be dead. Tell Nicolina if that was wolfsbane and Ketamine like I think it is, I’m going to tan her hide if she doesn’t bring me the entire stash right this instant. While you’re at it, tell her if she tries that stunt again, I will beat her within an inch of her life.”
I heard Wendy suck in a breath. “Nicolina!”
Listening to Desmond’s submissive mate roar in fury was almost as impressive as how fast her daughter obeyed—and the fact that her father had correctly identified what she had done to me, though I, for the life of me, couldn’t figure out how she had done it.
Not much affected Fenerec, but wolfsbane and Ketamine did, though the doses required to do any long-term harm were far larger than what was needed to kill a human. Of the two, I disliked the wolfsbane the most.
Despite its name, it didn’t ward me away. If anything, it acted more like catnip did for felines, disconnecting me from my wolf and making me pliable, perfect for Desmond to easily control. Ketamine made it work better, and as the minutes ticked by, he had me dancing to his tune, wagging my tail on command, and shaking with him despite my desire to rip his face off.
I couldn’t even voice a growl at the humiliation, aware I was mindlessly obeying him without finding the willpower to fight against him. Nicolina made her appearance, holding out a plastic bag with a bundle of herbs, a vial of fluid, and a bottle of pills.
“Where did you get these?” Desmond demanded, snatching them out of his daughter’s hand. She flinched, and my wolf gave me the strength to voice a growl.
