Above This Grave (The Cloven Pack Series: Book Three)

by D. Fischer

  She sways her hips as she circles me. “Irene Scott, the Riva Pack midwife,” she begins. I swivel my head to keep an eye on her. “I hear you have a brother.”

  “Drake?” I ask, confused where this is going.

  A smile lights her face. “That’s the one.” She reaches the front of me and continues, “I ordered these two fine men to bring you here. I have a proposition for you.”

  I lift an eyebrow. “I was abducted. Somehow I don’t feel like I’ll have a choice to accept it or not.”

  The smile leaves her lips, the murderous look returns. “You’re right. You don’t. I have a problem, and so far, no one has been able to fix it.”

  I cross my arms over my chest, uncomfortable. “And you think I can?” I ask.

  She gingerly places her hands on her hips. “I do. You’ve got a window that I need to climb through.” She lifts her hand and waves it in the air at my confused expression. “Metaphorically, of course. My old Pack has done me wrong. You’re going to give me what I want.” She inclines her head. “You’re going to make it right.”

  I chuckle at her order. This submissive wolf likes to boss around the more dominant. “And who’s this Pack?”

  “The Cloven Pack,” she growls with disgust, her top lip curling.

  My arms drop to my side as recognition clicks. “You’re Jazz.”

  Zane wraps firm fingers around my upper arm and spins me to face him. “You will address her as The One,” he snarls before backhanding me.

  My head whips to the side from the force of the strike. I leave my head tilted, my hair covering my glowing eyes while I wipe blood from the corner of my mouth. I take a moment to calm my wolf who’s threatening to surface.

  “Enough, Zane,” Jazz says in a quiet voice.

  I turn back to face her, glaring at Zane before doing so. Her mood switches on a dime, inclining her head in my direction with a toothy smile. “You’ve heard of me. Excellent.” She claps her hands together once, the sound echoing through the space.

  I’ve heard of her alright. She started the entire mess that the Cloven Pack is dealing with. They’ve been searching for her for months.

  “What do you want from me?” I growl.

  “I want intel,” she says in a deadly tone.

  I wipe blood again from the corner of my mouth. “And if I refuse?” I look at the blood on the back of my hand. “If I say no?”

  Jazz tilts her head back toward the dirty man. “Luke, would you be a dear?”

  He grins and jogs backward before fully turning and disappearing into a cubical.

  “Sweet, Irene,” she tsks. “You’ll be pleased to know we found your dear Drake. He’s quite the rebel, you know. Took down several of my wolves before they could restrain him.”

  My heart pounds in my chest. I have a feeling where she’s going with this. I haven’t seen my brother in years. He left the Riva Pack long ago.

  Luke drags my brother behind him as he walks back to us. “Ahh, there he is,” she says with excitement.

  Drake, with several open cuts, some fresh and some old, looks around at his surroundings with exhausted eyes. His arms are bound and a cloth gag is placed between his teeth.

  My breath seizes in my chest. He looks much older and wilder than I remember. The sight of his injuries causes my wolf to bang against the walls inside me, begging to be released for retaliation.

  “Drake, say hello to your sister,” Jazz says, placing her hands on her hips again. A pleased smirk lights her face. She’s enjoying this.

  “Drake,” I whisper. I reach out to touch him but Zane yanks me back. My shoulder pops from the action but I ignore the brief bite of pain.

  Drake stares at me with desperate, broken eyes. He isn’t concerned for his well-being, but instead, for mine. His eyes scan the wolves around him as he tries to grasp the reason as to why I’m here. Once his eyes land back on mine, they plead with me. Not for his own rescue. No. He’s pleading with me to run.

  “Excellent,” Jazz says, clapping her hands together and breaking me from my sorrow. “Shall we begin negotiations?”

  ChapterTwo

  Flint Rockland’s Wolf

  One month after capture . . .

  My Beta male holds up his hands as he speaks. Growls rip through my chest, saliva drips from my teeth. He stares with narrowed eyes and assesses the bars. Wrapping a hand around them, he uses his weight to test their strength.

  I’ve tried many times to break through. My teeth marks serve as evidence, marring their silver surface.

  I snarl louder and bark a warning. I don’t want him to enter. This is my den, my safety. Staying here, we remain safe. My human remains safe. I can protect him.

  He leans against the wall and watches me. His head moves side to side, my head follows his movement. His chest rises and falls as he lets out the air from inside his body. Turning to leave, he gives me one more look before exiting from my view.

  Irene Scott

  Two months after capture . . .

  Kenna attempts to sit up from the bed and grabs the fetal heart monitor from my hand. I yank it away before she has the chance and frown down at her, the cord swaying in the air.

  “I don’t hear the heartbeat,” she panics. “Where the hell is the heartbeat?”

  Darla rolls her wheelchair closer to Kenna’s bed. “Kenna, honey,” Darla begins, placing a hand on her arm, “the baby is still little. With all that extra room, they’re free to move around. Give it a few minutes.”

  Daring her to continue her impatience, I quirk a brow at Kenna. It’s a brave move, this kind of challenging gesture toward an Alpha female, but I’ve dealt with scared pregnant wolves before.

  Kenna chews the inside of her bottom lip—a habit I’ve noticed she’s picked up recently. Darla, still seated in her wheelchair, Evo, sitting on the edge of the bed, and the mom-to-be staring at the wand in my hand, I watch from my peripheral vision as each of them will the wand to pick up the heartbeat. The breath seizes in their chest as they wait.

  “There,” I say in a quiet voice to not startle the room. “There’s your baby’s heartbeat.” Kenna, Darla, and Evo breathe an audible sigh and visibly relax. “It’s one hundred and fifty-nine beats per minute.” Most moms-to-be have no idea what that means, but I find if you provide as much information as possible, it keeps the anxious parents at bay.

  My information falls on deaf ears as they contently listen to the life growing inside their Alpha female. I remove the wand and wipe the jelly from her skin.

  Evo reaches over and touches Kenna’s belly. She has a visible bump already there. She’s going to be one of those women who carry large babies. I don’t have the heart to tell her, though. That kind of knowledge isn’t always pleasing to moms-to-be and she seems like she’s in enough distress as it is.

  Evo brushes a stray brown strand of hair behind Kenna’s ear. “Are you okay, baby?” he asks.

  Shifting her eyes to the ceiling, she remains silent for a moment. “I will be. There’s just a lot of shit going on,” she mumbles.

  I pause in packing my equipment away. I knew the real reason behind her stress—at least one of the larger reasons. I see it all the time in expecting mothers. “Only a few more weeks, Kenna,” I remind her before continuing my task.

  Evo turns his head to me, his eyebrows pulling down over his eyes. “A few more weeks for what?”

  Darla leans forward in her wheelchair and pats Kenna’s arm. “Until the chance of miscarriage decreases,” Darla says, a sense of understanding in her tone. She has, after all, birthed two children.

  Reese, the Riva Pack doctor and good friend of mine, has given Darla the go-ahead to move about the house today. Reese’s only condition is for Darla to remain in her wheelchair until her strength is back.

  Last month, Darla had fallen into a comatose state when Evo, the Cloven Pack Alpha, had killed her mate, George, in a double challenge. George was the Gray Pack Alpha. Only waking last week, she’s lucky to have survived. Not man
y wolf shifters survive the death of their mate. All things considered, she’s handling the loss well. I get the sense that Darla’s mate, and apparently Kenna’s biological father, didn’t treat her well.

  When Darla first woke, she spent the first few days reflecting. She was grateful to have her long-lost daughter at her side and often told her so, but her silence stretched on for an uncomfortable amount of time. Reese was worried she’d have to prescribe her medication. She feared Darla was slipping into a depressed state. Shortly after Reese had considered it, Darla snapped out of her silence.

  Kenna spent her free time nursing Darla back to health. It amazes me how quickly they adapted to the mother-daughter relationship without knowing each other their entire lives.

  Darla looks exactly like an older Kenna. Kenna’s prickly attitude often causes her to physically cringe, but I believe she recognizes that there’s no changing someone’s personality. This is Kenna—who has the personality of a fire-breathing dragon. I have every faith that Darla will get used to it. Personally, I find this spunky trait of Kenna’s refreshing. She tells it like it is, and I admire that.

  I mentally check off my list of ‘things to say to panicking pregnant women’ and voice one aloud while unplugging the machine from the wall. “You’re really glowing, Kenna. Pregnancy suits you.”

  Kenna drops her hand from her forehead and lifts her head to properly look at me. Her eyes are already narrowed in disgust. I can’t help but smile at this Alpha female. She doesn’t handle compliments well and her reaction is always humorous.

  “If you mean the nausea and constant exhaustion, then yes, I would assume this pregnancy is treating me well,” she growls. Slapping her hand on the mattress, she fumes. “It isn’t enough that my body isn’t my own, is it? I’m a human incubator along for the ride.”

  Darla, pulling back her hand into her lap, switches the subject. “I heard there’s a wolf that refuses to shift back to his human half.” Grief causes her forehead to wrinkle. “That unfortunate man, trapped inside his wolf like that. I just can’t imagine . . . ” she trails off, glancing at her hands in her lap.

  Kenna turns her already narrowed eyes toward her mother. “It’s not your fault, Mom.” Her voice softens. “You have to stop blaming yourself.”

  Kenna is a Queen Alpha. They’re rare and always gifted. Her ability is empathy—she can feel what others are feeling. I’m not sure exactly how it works and I imagine it’s a useful tool, but I also believe it would be a burden. Knowing that someone is aware of your feelings, emotions, lies, and truths can make any person edgy. I remind myself to be continuously aware of the direction of my thoughts for that very reason.

  When a Queen Alpha is mated, she passes that gift onto the male. Initially, Evo wasn’t handling it with ease or proficiency. He was blunt and confrontational. He has a grip on it now and has learned to keep his acquired knowledge to himself. I believe the entire Cloven Pack is grateful for that.

  Darla releases a soft sigh. “I know, honey. A part of me feels that way, anyhow.”

  Flint Rockland’s Wolf

  Three months after capture . . .

  The Beta female stands in my doorway, dropping food inside my prison. I growl but chomp on the meat anyway. I keep eyes on her and she talks softly. I quiet my growls, chomping my meal, and filling my empty stomach.

  My human shouts at me, making it impossible to hear what the Beta female is saying. He wants to be free but his shouts are not as loud as they were in the beginning. He tires easily. I find it a relief. He must understand—I’m doing this for his own good.

  Flint Rockland

  It’s useless. He won’t listen to me and I’m too tired to keep trying. I’m disappearing. I know it, but he doesn’t. Without me, he’ll just be a wolf. A Rogue wolf. I will cease to exist. I’ll just be a memory. And my wolf will be killed.

  He’s in denial and refuses to listen to reason. He’s my personal hell and I’m drowning inside him. There’s no relief—no breath of fresh air. And soon . . . there will be no . . . me.

  ChapterThree

  Irene Scott

  Six months after capture . . .

  Kelsey places her mug down and sits up straight in her bar stool. “So, what’s it like—the Riva Pack? Is it much different than ours?”

  Kelsey and I are having a cup of tea at the kitchen island. Island is putting it mildly. This section of granite counters and metal stools could be its own continent, it’s so large.

  Dyson sits at the other end, drinking his tea in silence, staring at the contents inside his mug. He pays us no mind, lost in his thoughts.

  We’ve been having a conversation for the last hour. She’s been quizzing me, interested in my life and that of the Riva Pack. She can be a sarcastic woman, reminding me so much of her Alpha female. It’s a blooming friendship, one I’m willing to let blossom.

  I tear my gaze from the kitchen window above the sink. Members of the old Gray Pack have come to visit the territory. When Kenna and Evo finish the tour, I plan to give her a check-up.

  I take a sip of the hot brew while I mull over the comparisons. Turning my gaze to her, I voice them aloud. “It is a little. The Cloven Pack is more of a family unit. My Pack is substantially larger, which makes it difficult to be close to one another. Nothing like what you guys have here.” I wipe a few crumbs to the floor, uncomfortable with comparing the two.

  Truth be told, I’m fonder of the Cloven Pack than my own. Their closeness draws me in and I find myself wishing for the same assets in my own life.

  I don’t have many girl friends in my Pack. Though having limited friends is by choice. Drama and gossip aren’t things I involve myself in—I don’t have the tolerance for it. But I still find myself missing the rapport nonetheless. This Pack gossips, but only to enlighten and always with love for one another. It holds interest to me.

  Kelsey frowns. “That has to be hard. Wolf shifters need intimacy.”

  I watch Dyson shift uncomfortably on his stool before he twirls the string of his tea bag between his fingers.

  Kelsey picks up her mug, takes a sip, and sets it down with a thud. A small amount of tea spills on the island but she pays it no mind. A mischievous grin darkens her considering expression. “You can always switch Packs, you know,” she suggests.

  My eyebrows lift at the same time my lips smile off to one side of my face. “That’s tempting, but I love my Pack. I have friends there. And . . . family . . . kind of.” I pause to scratch an elusive itch on my cheek. “Besides, I don’t have a substantial reason to.”

  Kelsey leisurely nods and takes another sip of tea. “I suppose you’re right.”

  I can practically see the wheels turning in her head. I decide to switch the subject before she conjures any more impish ideas. “Hey, how’s that wolf doing?”

  She places her head in her hands and sighs, her mood drastically changing. Dyson roughly slides his stool back, scraping it against the wood floor as he does so, and abruptly leaves the kitchen. She lifts her head from her hands and we watch his back as he exits out the sliding glass door. The smell of fresh spring air blows into the kitchen and a few voices from the new Pack members drift inside with it before it shuts.

  “What’s up with him?” I ask.

  “Dyson?” I nod to her question. “I’m not entirely sure. He doesn’t talk about it. Flint, the guy who is stuck in his wolf, and Dyson were best friends. Dyson has yet to visit Flint.” She rubs her temples. “You’d think after everything we’ve been through; all this drama wouldn’t be knocking down our fucking door every chance it has.”

  I take another sip of my tea and think to myself, That’s a fool’s dream.

  Flint Rockland’s Wolf

  I stare out the glass window, a few spots of snow still littering the brown grass. Puddles form here and there where the snow melts faster than it can seep into the soil. Spring is here, the birds flit from tree to tree. The outdoors call to me.

  My Pack and newcomers roam the soaked grou
nd. I tilt my head—I don’t recognize these people.

  A dark-skinned female turns her brown eyes to my glass wall. I perk ears and my heart freezes.

  Mine.

  The female’s eyebrows scrunch to the middle. She turns to my Alpha female, speaking and pointing in my direction.

  I whine and pace in front of the window.

  Flint Rockland

  I’m weak. Just a tiny sliver of life left. I no longer fight my wolf but watch his tedious life unfold in silence. He’s curious about the new wolves. I don’t know what this means any more than he does. No one has told us anything.

  My wolf’s ears perk as his attention zooms in on a female. She’s slender, her eyes a chocolate brown. They’re so richly luminous that I can make out their details from here. She’s staring at my wolf through the window—a curious expression creasing her beautiful face. I mentally sit up and take notice. I feel my wolf’s heart skip a beat and his thoughts of possession.

  Holy shit, is my only thought.

  For the first time in months, I try to break free of my barriers again.

  Irene Scott

  Eight months after capture . . .

  I rest my elbows on the edge of the cushioned armrests, my small frame engulfed in the massive reclining chair. My feet apply pressure to the carpet and I gently slide the chair into a rocking motion. “You only have one month left until you get to hold your baby, Kenna. I promise, you’ll survive it.”

  The pregnancy is progressing well, but the extra strain on the body of first-time mothers can be painful and uncomfortable, which is her current complaint.

  Evo and Kenna have graciously lent me their guest bedroom. They’ve asked me to stay with them toward the end of her pregnancy so I’m available for the delivery. I plan to temporarily move in next week.