by Moira Rogers
Footsteps sounded in the hallway, and Derek tensed as the sandy-haired man returned, leading three hulking men who were obviously guards and the man he assumed to be Noah Coleman.
He was large. Not as large as John Peyton, but almost as tall as Derek himself and a little wider. He looked to be in his forties, which meant he was probably in his sixties.
Coleman stared at Derek for a moment and shook his head. “You’re just a damn kid.”
Cold rage rose up inside him, narrowing his focus to Noah Coleman. “So?”
“So nothing,” he said flatly. “I hear your challenge, and I accept.”
Pure exhilaration. Derek wanted to throw back his head and howl. The wolf paced anxiously, ready to break free, and Derek didn’t try to hide the rush of power.
As the challenger, it was his right to pick the time. No more waiting. No more wondering. With his humanity fading, it was a struggle to remember the words he’d been taught. “I don’t require any time for preparations. Choose the method.”
Coleman’s stare went hot and feral. “We face each other as wolves.”
It had been too much to hope that Coleman would accept the fight in human form, and John had warned him not to expect it. “Where does this happen?”
John Peyton jerked his head toward the far wall of the room. “There’s a clearing about a quarter-mile back in the forest. The traditional grounds.”
“And we go there now?”
“We go there now.”
Nick’s hand went stiff in his. The others filed out of the room, but she hesitated. “Derek.”
He waited until they were alone to turn to her. “Nicky?”
She folded her arms around his neck and kissed him hard, then whispered in his ear. “I love you.”
It firmed up his resolve, among other things. “You can love me all you want tonight. My instincts are a little riled.”
She licked his ear. “I’ll show you how we celebrate a victorious challenge.”
Now all he had to do was win.
Nick had never been more terrified in her life. When Coleman had burst into Aaron’s cell with a gun in his hand, she hadn’t had time to be frightened. Now, she’d had days to imagine the ways this challenge could go wrong, and it scared the hell out of her.
She released Derek as they approached the clearing, and her father caught her arm and urged her to stop. “When he steps into the circle, Nicole, he has to go alone.”
She knew that, but it didn’t lessen her need to stay beside him. “He can do this.”
Derek turned to look back at her. “Damn right I can, sweetheart.”
She nodded slowly, acutely aware of the appraising gazes. “Yes.”
He was full of hungry, dangerous power and leashed strength that made her want to rub against him, to show him all the ways she could sate that need raging inside him.
He smiled, and she wondered if he knew what she was thinking. “Be right back.” Then he turned and walked into the circle.
Coleman had already shed his clothes and knelt on the ground. In a seemingly effortless moment, he shifted, gray fur covering his body. Derek stripped off his clothing as well, still poised on the edge of the circle as he dropped his shirt and his pants. The change came more slowly for him, but when it was over the dark wolf she remembered from their run together stood on the edge of the circle, tall and strong.
Coleman bristled, his tail twitching jerkily as he paced in the center of the circle. His lips lifted to bare his teeth, and he growled.
Derek pounced.
It was fast, so fast that he was on Coleman before Nick registered that he’d moved. Teeth flashed, and his snarl rose as he snapped his jaws shut where Coleman’s shoulder had been a heartbeat before.
Shocked murmurs rose from the gathered onlookers, but the gray wolf facing Derek stared him down with gleaming eyes. The attack had been aggressive, and it must have seemed carelessly so to Coleman.
Derek didn’t give him a chance to regain his composure. He attacked a second time, and a third, forcing Coleman to bend his body out of the way, to defend.
It was everything her father had told Derek. Stay on the offensive. He’s a decent fighter who can match your strength, but he tires quickly. “Is this going to work?” she whispered softly.
Her dad’s hand came up to rest on her shoulder, the weight warm and reassuring. “He’s fast and he’s tough. Jacobson’s not a bad teacher.”
“No, he isn’t.” Alec’s influence showed in every feint and snap. Derek’s fighting was quick, dirty…and effective. Over and over, he drove Coleman back, and once almost took him off his feet.
But it didn’t take long for his opponent to realize that Derek’s aggressiveness left him no room for a defense of his own, and every lunge left him open to retaliatory attacks. The next time Derek snapped at Coleman’s side, the older man let him, taking the minor bite as he turned into Derek’s body. A heartbeat later deadly sharp teeth sank into Derek’s shoulder.
He wrenched out of Coleman’s grip and recovered quickly, but his next attack was just a little more cautious, a little more restrained.
Nick stepped forward before she could stop herself. There was nothing she could do, but it didn’t help the fear. The truth of the situation, the gravity of it, trembled through her all over again.
Derek could die.
She could barely speak. “What happens if Coleman wins?”
Her father’s voice dropped to the barest whisper, too soft to be heard by anyone else gathered around the circle. “Coleman is stripped of his rank and sent home in disgrace. But if he’s willing and able to challenge his way back onto his council, he could take his old Conclave seat back.”
Nick shuddered, though she barely felt the tremor. Coleman had everything to regain by winning. It would make him viciously determined to do so.
He bit Derek again, focusing his attack on the same spot as before. Derek threw his weight behind a lunge that toppled them both onto the ground as loud snarls rose above the quiet murmur of voices.
They broke apart and came to their feet, and Derek charged before Coleman caught his balance.
By now, the fight had evened out. They each had an idea of the other’s style, and it became a tense exchange of attacks and dodges, or glancing blows and bites.
Derek was young, tough, but his shoulder began to bleed freely when Coleman managed one more tearing bite. Nick clamped her own teeth on her tongue to keep from crying out, but she refused to look away.
The constant attacks on his wounded shoulder began to take their toll. Derek stumbled with his next lunge, but Coleman was beginning to tire. He didn’t move fast enough to take advantage of Derek’s unsteady footing, and when he did move forward, Derek whipped around and caught his opponent’s back leg in a bite hard enough to wrench an enraged snarl from Coleman’s throat.
They both went down in a jumble of flailing limbs and snapping jaws. It took a minute for Coleman to break away and stagger to his feet. Derek followed, favoring his injured shoulder as the wolves circled.
Behind Nick, her father tightened his fingers on her shoulders in silent reassurance. But the longer they fought, the harder it was to watch.
She caught sight of Conrad Hoffman. He stood on the far edge of the circle, eyes narrowed and a slight frown marring his usually mild expression. When Derek snarled and attacked again, driving Coleman back, Hoffman’s frown deepened.
The gnawing fear in Nick’s belly flared and faded into numbness. She sought out the other Conclave members and found them watching the fight the same way, with a mixture of disbelief and discomfort.
They wanted Coleman to win. He’d ignored their official decision, gone rogue and killed Aaron, and it didn’t matter. Having him back in power would be preferable to having Derek.
Her father’s hands tightened again, hard this time, as if he was afraid she couldn’t keep her feet on her own. “Say the word and I’ll end it. Even if it tears everything apart.”
“No.” Derek wa
s still fighting. He sank his teeth into Coleman’s leg again, only a glancing, shallow bite, but he was still fighting. He hadn’t given up on her, and she wouldn’t give up on him. “Derek can do this. He’s winning. That’s why Hoffman and the others are so worried.”
He could do this. He could win, and turn their world upside down.
Still trembling, Nick watched.
The last time Derek had felt pain this intense, he’d gone down human and woken up a shapeshifter.
He wrenched his body out of the way of Coleman’s next attack, taking some comfort in the fact that it was slower than the previous lunges. But Coleman wasn’t the only one slowing down, and every second that passed brought another layer of agony.
Instinct that had been sure and confident at the beginning of the fight had begun to waver. Coleman was older, but he had cunning on his side. He’d hit Derek’s left shoulder so many times the pain was starting to drift toward a terrifying numbness that made it hard to maneuver.
He had to end the fight. He had to kill Coleman.
He had to figure out how.
He darted back, and his bad leg chose that moment to give out. They hit the ground, Coleman on top of him, and it was only a minor blessing that the powerful jaws closed on his shoulder instead of his throat. Coleman shook him so hard that pain exploded through him, and Derek put everything he had into twisting away.
It was Nick’s tiny, terrified gasp that gave him the strength to fight the pain. Coleman had killed Aaron in cold blood in front of her. He wasn’t going to get a second chance to hurt her like that.
Derek rolled, hard and fast, and slammed Coleman’s injured side into the ground. The older wolf’s jaws opened on a yelp of pain, and Derek wiggled free. He couldn’t feel his shoulder anymore, and he didn’t need instinct to tell him that was bad. Time was running out.
So he gathered everything he had, bared his teeth, and lunged.
He hit while Coleman was still struggling to his feet, and the wolf went down with a snarl. Claws sliced into his injured shoulder, and Derek ignored it. Ignored the pain and the fear of losing his arm for good and the shocked murmurs around them as Coleman began to panic, to struggle with frantic desperation.
Derek had worried there might be hesitation when he closed his teeth on his enemy’s throat, but the wolf rose in giddy triumph as he snapped his jaws shut, tasted blood. Coleman’s body jerked underneath him, his efforts slowing.
His second bite crushed his opponent’s throat. His third tore it open. Blood gushed, and Coleman writhed for a few final seconds and fell still.
Silence reigned around the circle, broken only by Nick’s hoarse, ragged sobs. Derek took three trembling steps back and dropped to his haunches, trying to spare his shoulder. He had no doubt that the numbness suffusing his body was only a temporary reprieve. Shock and adrenaline would soon fade, and he sure the hell wanted to be in human form before it did.
Finding the energy to shift was the hardest thing he’d ever done. The wolf fought him, high on the thrill of victory, and his injuries made the magic sluggish. Changing was usually easy, a burst of magic that burned through his body too fast to register pain. This time it crawled, dripping over him like molasses and leaving pain in its wake. It took too long to feel grass under his knees and, by the time the power faded, he was panting for breath, his left arm limp and useless at his side.
The wolf howled its outrage at being vulnerable in the face of so many potential enemies. Derek ignored it and focused on the only one who mattered, forcing out her name in a ragged, broken whisper. “Nick.”
She wrenched free of her father’s grasp and ran to him, skidding to her knees in the grass beside him. “You’re hurt.”
“I’m okay.” A lie, and they both knew it.
Her hands slipped over his blood-slicked skin. “Can you stand? You have to.”
He had to face the Conclave, accept his victory. And tell them where to shove their council seat. He felt like he’d lost a game of chicken with an eighteen-wheeler, and he’d happily sleep for a week, but he pulled himself to his feet and managed to stand, though his grip on Nick’s shoulder had to be hurting her.
It was Hoffman who faced him first, his face set and almost angry. “The Conclave heard your challenge, and Noah Coleman accepted it. You prevailed. Under our laws and traditions, that which was his is now yours.”
There were traditional phrases, things Nick had taught him over the past three days. Everything seemed blurry through the haze of pain and he had to struggle to get any words out. “His fortune and his property should remain with his family.”
Ochoa nodded, obviously at least mildly appeased by the concession. “That leaves his council seat. We were going to strip him of it, but your challenge took precedence. Since he still had it…”
Derek didn’t want it. Every day would be a battle, a fight for change that no one around him wanted, and it would tie him to a world Nick only wanted to escape.
Validation wasn’t worth it. So he straightened and met Ochoa’s gaze squarely. “I respectfully decline.”
Derek may as well have grown a second head. The man’s eyes narrowed, and he shook his head. “You have to want it. Why the hell else would you have risked this fight?”
If they didn’t understand things like love and loyalty, nothing he said could make them understand. “Because my Xbox broke and there wasn’t anything good on TV. Are we done?”
Ochoa opened his mouth, but Nick interrupted him with a growl. “Where’s the doctor, Jorge?”
“He’s waiting inside,” he told her, his gaze still on Derek. “If a winner can’t walk out of the circle, he’s not much of a winner.”
“I won everything that matters.” Derek squeezed Nick’s shoulder once and released her, letting his hand fall to his side as he turned. Every step sent agony shooting through his body, but he ignored it as he walked to John’s side.
Nick’s father nodded once, in acknowledgement or maybe gratitude. “I’ll take care of the rest,” he murmured. “We’ll talk later.”
Nick waited until they were out of sight of the gathered crowd, just inside the mansion’s back door, and grabbed him. “It’s okay. They can’t see you anymore.”
Sometimes he forgot how strong she was. Pride had gotten him inside, but it was Nick’s stubbornness that got him across the room and down the hallway when his vision had already begun to swim in time with the pounding of his heart. “My arm’s bad, Nick. Really fucking bad.”
It took her a moment to answer. “It’ll heal, and that’s what matters.”
He wasn’t feeling nearly so confident. Then again, he wasn’t feeling much of anything at all, which probably had a lot to do with the trail of blood he’d left behind them. “Promise you’ll still love me if I end up with one arm.”
“Baby, I don’t care if you only have one of everything.” Her voice had taken on a strained quality, and he realized he was leaning heavily on her. “But if you don’t stop talking like this is it, I’m going to smack you.”
“That’s my Nicky. Violent to the end.” He reached up with his good arm and braced it against the wall. “I think I’m gonna pass out now, if that’s okay.”
She probably responded, but he didn’t hear it. He was too busy putting action to words.
Chapter 22
His shoulder ached, he had wood glue all over his hands, and he’d never been happier.
Derek stepped back and caught the ratty old towel Luciano tossed at him with a wince he didn’t bother to hide. It was freeing to feel safe showing weakness after the miserable weeks in New York, though the irony of being comfortable in Luciano’s presence didn’t escape him. But there was something soothing about the heated workroom behind the sprawling ranch house. He could hear the wind battering the side of the building, heralding the kind of harsh weather he’d never had to live with in Louisiana.
Something he’d just have to get used to, since Nick wasn’t going anywhere.
He turned h
is attention to Luciano as the man examined the cradle they’d spent the afternoon assembling. “All it needs is a little more sanding and some stain. How’s it look?”
“Michelle will love it.” Luciano ran his hand over a side panel and rocked it a little.
Derek wiped his hands clean as well as he could and studied the day’s work with a critical eye. It had been a long time since he’d had the luxury of indulging in his favorite hobby, but he hadn’t done too badly, all things considered. Either way, it would be worth a few extra twinges in his injured arm if he managed to coax a rare smile from Michelle.
He dropped the towel to the side and grabbed a worn piece of sandpaper. “How’s Michelle doing? Nick’s wearing herself down between worrying about her sister and fussing over me.”
“She’s been quiet.” Luciano began to smooth a sheet of sandpaper over the other side of the cradle. “Keeping to herself, mostly. A little sad. But she seems to be feeling better.”
For a moment Derek was tempted to ask Luciano how he was doing, but their unspoken truce hadn’t had time to grow into friendship. Though maybe it was time to change that. “Thanks for the rooms, by the way. It means a lot to Nick to be able to stay here for a while.”
“This is Michelle’s home now,” Luciano answered quietly. “You two are welcome any time you want to be here.”
“I don’t think you’re getting rid of Nick. Not until the baby’s born.” Derek gave in and rubbed at the throbbing ache in his shoulder. “I have to go back to New Orleans to deal with business from time to time. Aside from that, I think I’ll take you up on that offer.”
Luciano grinned. “Ranch life suits you?”
It did, and more than he’d anticipated. “Someone almost ripped my arm off my body a month ago in polite, civilized society. I could do with a little more time in the untamed wilds.”
“You busted their polite society wide open. Was it worth it?”
He thought of Nick, and of how Luciano loved Michelle in his own way. “What do you think?”
Luciano was silent for several moments. “I think you and I understand each other.”
