by Tamar Sloan
“Exactly. So he challenged me to a Claiming.”
A Claiming. The name and Noah’s tone have an ominous sound. I don’t even want to repeat it. So I wait.
“A Claiming is his way of getting…restitution.”
“Sounds like an excuse to me.”
Noah shrugs. “Maybe. Either way, it’s a fight at the Glade.”
A sick, awful feeling is creeping up my throat. My voice is a hoarse whisper as it tries to scrape past it. I pull away, looking up into stormy-blue eyes. “But the third Precept…”
Thy shall not attack another blood member.
“A Claiming is the only place you can.” Noah shifts a little. And I know there’s more. “Only one can walk away. It must be a complete victory.”
Each word slowly sinks in. They have to pass denial. Then they hit anger. Before tumbling into a deep pit of fear.
“But….” But what? What do I have to say to that? Noah is going to have to fight for his life, because of Kurt’s injured pride? “How did this happen?” My whisper is now ragged.
Noah steps away, pacing a few steps beneath the branches, his hands clenching and unclenching. “I couldn’t let him step up as the Alpha, Eden. What if Dad doesn’t…?”
He doesn’t need to finish the sentence. Noah doesn’t have a choice. He has to fight for his pack, because if Adam never wakes, and Kurt was the head of the pack…Kurt could become the Phelan Alpha.
“Your hands are tied.”
“They’re set in freaking concrete.”
I lean against Grandfather Douglas, rubbing my upper arms. The cold has started to sink in. “When?”
“In three days.”
Three days! “What about the whole full moon thing?”
“He wants to settle it quickly.”
“That doesn’t make sense. He’s breaking tradition so he can settle this traditionally?”
Noah shrugs.
“He’s not playing fair.”
“Nothing about this is fair. I don’t think that’s Kurt’s first priority.”
Choked words slip past frozen lips. “I don’t want to lose you.”
And I’m back in his arms. Strong, protective, warm arms. “You’re not going to, Eden. We’ve only just started, and I want a whole lot more time with you yet.”
If Noah could win based on the fierceness and determination in his voice, then Kurt would never stand a chance.
But this fight depends on far more than that.
“You haven’t trained for this for two years.”
He pulls back to look at me, and that glint is trying to break free in his turbulent eyes. “Just think David and Goliath…Rocky…Kung Fu Panda.”
I smile. Noah’s unfailing faith and optimism are one of the many things I love about him. But when my cheeks push up, they tip the tears that have pooled along my lower lids. Cold trails streak down my cheeks.
Warm thumbs come up to rub them away. “Eden.” His voice is choked, pained.
I tuck my head back under his chin, sinking into his warm, hard chest. Wishing I could crawl in there.
Another rumble, this one more high-pitched, comes from the road, and Mitch and Tara drive up in her little silver hatchback. The dark clouds have sunk closer to frame their car, the two pale faces within. They climb out and Tara is instantly in Mitch’s arms; her hair whips around in the gusty wind.
“Mom stayed for a bit longer with Dad.”
Noah nods. “Fair enough. Let’s get inside before the storm hits.”
We shuffle into the house, where Stash greets us with the simple affection of a canine. He scans each person’s face, judging the somber mood. He comes to stand by Noah, whining.
Noah leans down to ruffle his neck. “I know, bud.”
We enter the lounge room, then stand there. My head is so full of what Noah has told me, overflowing with dread and crawling with fear. I’m trying desperately to get it under control; Noah doesn’t need to deal with these awful emotions too. No one speaks; no one really moves. Now what?
“Why don’t we watch a movie?” Tara says brightly, artificially.
Noah looks down at me, and I offer a small smile. It would be practically normal, two couples hanging together. Normality might be good right now. “Sure, why not?”
Mitch heads to the TV cabinet, rifling through the DVDs. What does one watch on an occasion like this?
He pulls out Kung Fu Panda. Uncanny.
While he puts it in, Noah and I settle ourselves on one of the lounges. He lifts his arm, and I curl in, both of us adjusting and nestling into each other, maximizing any point of contact we can get. My head sinks into his shoulder, I breathe in his sandalwood scent, and I begin to calm. Mitch turns the lights off and joins Tara on the adjoining two-seater just as the heavens open up. Rain pummels the roof, creating a muted, steady drumroll. The wind whips angrily against the house, slamming the waterfall against the windows. I curl tighter into Noah, and his arm fastens around me, binding me to his side.
The TV lights up, and I really try to focus on the overweight panda that looks like he’s meant to be the unlikely hero. But the movie passes in a blur of flashing, bright colors and unheard sound.
I can’t concentrate. This isn’t two teenage couples watching a movie together. This is two bonded Weres that have to hide in his childhood bedroom, her father demanding a fight, his twin threatened. This is an unwilling Alpha heir having to protect his pack’s heritage, with his life.
This is a powerless human girl having to watch it all happen.
There’s nothing normal about that.
Noah’s hand is rubbing up and down my arm, his fingers grazing my skin. It sends tingles skipping along my nerve endings. I look up, and his pensive eyes are on the TV, his finger rubbing his bottom lip in that way of his. I don’t think he’s aware he’s stroking me. Or the effect it has.
I give up on the movie. All I feel, all I want to feel is Noah—my senses memorizing his smell, his powerful arms around me, his heat seeping into my side…the sensation of his breath pulling in and pushing out.
All of a sudden Tara pushes herself out of her seat. Mitch jumps back a little, surprised. “How can he do this?”
We all look at her, no one saying anything. In the background an angry snow leopard is demanding that he should be the Dragon Warrior.
Mitch gets up and turns on the light. “We need a plan.”
Noah and I both turn to him, Noah retrieving his arm so he can sit forward. “I’m open to suggestions.”
Tara slaps her palm with her fist. “I’ll kill him myself!”
“We’ll put that down as Plan B, maybe Y or Z,” says Noah. His index finger returns to his bottom lip. “Let’s look at the facts. I don’t think Kurt expected me to pick up this gauntlet.”
Tara nods. “He did looked surprised.”
Mitch is thinking hard. “He’s going to depend on your inexperience.”
My heart is a crushing weight in my chest, bruising me from the inside.
Mitch sits forward. “Yes, he has experience and size. But you have speed and youth.” He grins ruefully. “Dad did say you were fast.”
The heavy weight in my chest lightens, ever so slightly. Hope needs so little to feed it.
Noah sits up a little straighter. “If I learn some moves, do some training, we’re starting to even it out.”
Noah and Mitch look at each other and twin mouths speak in unison. “Uncle Joe and Grandpa Ben!”
32
Noah
I’ve managed to jam a whole lot of living into three days. Training has taken up most of my time. Mom rang school to say I wouldn’t be in. Then each day has been spent in the backyard—Mitch my training partner, Grandpa Ben and Uncle Joe my coaches. Eden, Tara and Mom make up my cheerleading squad.
Initially I struggled to find the drive to attack my own twin. But Mitch knows how to push my buttons. He reminds me that Kurt is the one who attended countless family barbeques, called himself my father’s friend, and was the one who
offered support and help with Dad in the hospital. It gets me angry, aggravated and agitated. It stirs the Alpha blood in my veins.
Grandpa stands in the middle of our yard, trying to prepare me. “The neck is the most vulnerable part, the tool of submission. You must protect yours, while aiming for his.”
That doesn’t even sound easy. But Mitch is a boulder of black fur coming at me, so I duck my head and lunge at him. He hits me like a semi, knocking me over, meaning he’s on top, with the upper hand. I struggle and shove, knocking him off balance then jump up and leap at him, doing my own impersonation of a truck. We clash and roll through the soft grass. When we pull away, we’re both breathing heavily.
I smile at Mitch, thinking this could be fun…if my life didn’t depend on it. He responds with a black grin of his own. Then I run at him. For a brief moment I see wide surprised eyes, hear Eden’s gasp, and I’m on him. This time we’re sucking in lungfuls of air when we disentangle.
Uncle Joe grunts. “Adam was right, he is fast.”
Grandpa Ben has his arms crossed, one hand stroking his grey stubbled chin. “He’ll depend on your inexperience, but your speed will be your advantage. If you do this right, he’ll never see you coming.”
So I try harder, go faster. By day two I’ve taken Mitch down twice. Which makes him angry. No Were likes to be beaten. So we step it up, get rougher, get tougher.
When we break, I transform like I’ve been doing this all my life as we head back to Eden and Tara. Eden slips beneath my arm, and I hold her close. I don’t need to ask how they’re feeling. I can feel Eden’s fear; Tara’s is stamped on her pale skin and wide hazel eyes.
I wipe the sweat from my face, passing a towel to Mitch. “Tara, you don’t need to be there.”
Her hands come up to her hips, eyes turning into hazel slits. “Noah, I’m going to stand by my mate, stand up for what’s right.” She has a just-try-and-stop-me tone that I know is pointless arguing with.
I look at Mitch—he knows what I’m thinking.
Tara’s compact body steps between us, cheeks now matching her hair. “Oh no you don’t, there will be no secret twin planning to keep me out of the action.”
Mitch rubs the back of his head, knowing we’ve been caught out. I don’t care; this is her father I have to fight. Tara will not be there if this gets unpleasant. I almost snort, ‘if’...Unpleasant is unavoidable, ugly is highly probable.
“Let’s go, peoples, I mean wolves.” Grandpa chuckles at his own joke. “Now we’re looking at maiming your opponent, a good little trick for slowing them down.”
Uncle Joe steps up beside him. “Not literally of course, but the knack is to get a swipe or a nip into the front or back legs. Mitch, I want you here. Noah, you’re going to be on the defensive.”
I sigh, the sound sucked in as a human, released as a wolf. Defense again. We all know Kurt is going to be single-minded and aggressive. I’m going to need a good defense. I manage to barge Mitch, moving fast enough to take him by surprise. He rolls and gouges through the dirt. I stop, thinking he needs a break. But he pushes up onto his feet, shakes himself, and runs at me again. He knows this is too important, that we don’t have time to take it easy. That this is what he can do to help. Exhaustion and bruises are just collateral damage. I’d be grateful if he wasn’t the one giving me the bruises.
We’re eyeing each other off again, planning our next offensive, when Grandpa steps up. “Let’s call it a day.”
I look up to see the sun low over the trees. It seems time flies when you’re madly, desperately trying to jam two years of Alpha-training-that-includes-necessary-life-saving-moves into two short days.
“Good job, guys. We’ve covered a lot of ground.” I wonder if he’s making another grandad joke, because Mom’s lawn is trashed.
Mitch morphs back to human, but I stay as a wolf, and head over to Eden. She’s on the thinking chair with Mom. I lean in, head tipping down to her, and she smiles a little smile, her hand coming up to rest on my cheek. I jerk my head toward the trees.
Her eyes light up like Vegas. “Again?”
I nod. She doesn’t need any more encouragement. She leaps on my back like I’m no bigger than a standard wolf, and we’re off. Heading straight for the trees. Eden twists around and waves to the others, and they wave back, their broad smiles echoing hers.
For half an hour or so there is no fear, no Claiming, no Kurt. It’s just me and Eden, flying through the forest. Like nothing can stop us, nothing could slow us down. Because no matter how close the trees are, how low the branches, what comes at us, I sidestep, she ducks, we work as one. Shy, timid Eden is gone. She squeals with delight each time I go a little faster.
Up ahead I see a big rock, getting bigger and bigger as we power toward it. I line it up, gain some speed, and hear her intake of breath. Her legs grip my ribs as I push off the ground and we’re sailing over. My heart does its own aeronautic gymnastics when I feel Eden let go. I know she has her arms out again, doing her Titanic impersonation. Her laughter spills out when we land on the other side. Our joy and freedom is so strong, so limitless, I doubt it could be contained within the boundaries of the forest.
She falls forward when I turn, head nuzzling into my shoulder. With a deep breath she relaxes into me, her lean body molded to my back. An emotion so strong, so powerful, fills my chest. Reaching out to her. Connecting with her.
We come back to Grandfather Douglas and Eden slips off. I pretend to be some magician as I circle his wide trunk. Walking behind a wolf, coming out a guy. I hold my arms out. “Ta da!”
Eden claps, smiling. Never seeing that my mark has changed.
Just like last night, we curl up beneath the branches. Yesterday we asked countless questions. I got to watch the way she still bites her lips as she considers whether a person can live on cheesecake, how she seems to be drawn to touching me as much as I’m her, how I’m still bowled over whenever she smiles. It’s like we were cramming a hundred dates into one short night.
Tonight we are silent, watching the sun go down. This time I’m absorbed in the way the fiery oranges light up her face, the twilight blends into her hair, the golden yellows reflect in her happy-sad eyes.
Then we head up to my room, and I prove that I can, indeed, play the guitar while lying down. My head is in her lap as I play Magic from her favorite band, Coldplay. Because it’s true, being with Eden is magic. Her fingers run through my hair as I play Snow Patrol’s Chasing Cars, as we lay there and forget the world. Strumming Wonderwall, because there are so many things I want to say, and just like Oasis, I don’t know how.
Then it’s time for Eden to go home. We’re at her car; she’s leaning back against it, my shoulder beside her as I face her. “It almost seems silly—you leaving, considering you’ll just be back in the morning.”
Her eyes widen, showing more white, more green. “I couldn’t…stay.”
I grin; she looks so flustered and still shy. “I know. Just saying…”
She nudges my chest with her shoulder and smiles. “You could tempt a dedicated vegetarian, Noah Phelan.”
And my grin widens. She’s tempted? She turns so her shoulder is against the car too, facing me. “I should go. You need to rest.”
Looking down on her, I lose myself in the beauty of Eden at twilight. My fingers come up to tangle in her hair, and I hear her breath hitch—that small intake of air pulling me in. All the times our hands brushed during lunch, the times she slipped into my arms during breaks, the amazing sense of connection during the run has amped up my awareness and kindled the heat.
Our lips touch and that fire is unleashed.
Ignited by touch. Fueled by desire. Driven by desperation. Eden’s hands grip my waist as my fingers clutch the back of her head. Blazing mouths meld, gasping lips merge, hungry tongues mingle as the heat intensifies, until all I can do is feel. Feel the heat, the sensations, feel her desire echoing mine. Because there’s no greater fuel for these flames than knowing Eden is right the
re with me.
We pull away at the same time, before we spontaneously combust.
“I should go…” Eden has that breathless, panting breathing that keeps my pulse dialed up to crazy. I uselessly try to get my own mad gasps under control. Neither one of us releases the strong grip we have on each other.
I think we’re trying to hold on to this moment—trying to freeze time.
But the chirping of the crickets counts down the seconds. The hoot of an owl is like the chime of a clock. Each of our breaths, gradually slowing down, are the sounds of inevitability.
“Okay, I’m really going now. I’ll be back in the morning.” Eden pulls away, and I unwillingly let her go. I stay under the great tree until her taillights disappear around the bend, until I can no longer hear the hum of the engine.
With my hands in my pockets, I head inside. I didn’t have the guts to ask her if she thought it was worth it now.
Mom is in the kitchen, although thankfully nothing’s cooking. I can hear Mitch’s music softly screeching in his room.
“I’m gonna head up to bed now, Mom. I’ll see you in the morning.”
She puts down the cloth she’d been using to wipe the bench and comes up to me. “Try and get some sleep.”
“Sure.” She’s kidding right?
She smiles, her worn features lifting, lighting up for the first time in ages. Her hands come to rest on my cheeks. “Noah, I want you to know how proud I am. During this whole mess, you’ve stepped up to every challenge with the courage and the honor of a Phelan. You make a fine Alpha. Your dad would be so proud.” Her brown eyes shimmer, fear making them waver.
“Mom, you and Dad have been…” I struggle to find the words; they have been the ones that prepared me for this—made me strong, kept me strong. My mouth twitches. “Totes awesome.”
Her own soft lips tip up. “You made it totes easy.”
We hug, and she feels so small. “See you in the morning.”
I head up the stairs, knowing I need to sleep.
But probably won’t.
