The Marked and the Broken

by Ivy Asher

  “Muriel’s pack does not interact with lamia. I asked him, and he answered truthfully. Lamia know better than to try and breach an unfriendly pack’s territory,” Torrez states.

  “Sorik,” is all Bastien says, and Torrez turns to him, confused.

  “Bless you,” Torrez tells him after a beat.

  Bastien rolls his eyes. “No, that’s the name of the lamia who breached your pack territory to talk to Vinna.”

  A deep growl pours out of Torrez. “A certain trouble magnet was not very forthcoming with any information about that incident. She was too busy being stabby,” he accuses.

  “I was only stabby because your furry ass was being handsy,” I defend.

  “Lamia had just breached the pack boundary, for the first time in history, to get to you. I was making sure you were okay.”

  “You were fucking handsy, bro.”

  “You were my mate!” he exclaims, his tone exasperated.

  “I…didn’t know that at the time!”

  “You two can fuck this out later; the point is that lamia can and will breach a pack’s territory with the proper motivation,” Bastien announces, and I don’t miss the glint of amusement in his eyes.

  Fucking weirdo.

  “Vinna went with that lamia, Sorik,” Torrez growls out the name. “He didn’t attack a pack of shifters to get to her. So if she agrees not to go wandering off looking for trouble, all should be fine.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “You all can stand on the border of their territory if it makes you feel any better, but I guarantee the pack isn’t going to let you get any closer than that. And whether you like it or not, the Witch and I have to do this. I’m not sure how large the pack is, but even if they’re relatively small, it’s a bad idea to piss them off. The last thing we need is to add another enemy to our list. The invitation to join them for a meal has been extended, and we’re going.”

  With that, Torrez walks away. “Stop looking at my furry ass, Witch,” he shouts over his shoulder.

  My eyes snap up from his completely bitable—and hairless—ass, and I adopt a completely innocent mien. Torrez flashes into a wolf and trots back in the direction of the houses like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Ryker and Knox both crack up, and I mentally chant nothing to see here, folks. I look down and find Sabin’s forest-green eyes waiting for mine. I’m still standing over him, and I crouch to wipe sweat from his forehead.

  “Fuck, are you okay?” I ask as I scan his face for any more hints of pain, then breathe a sigh of relief when I don’t find any.

  “Yeah,” Sabin tells me, a slight tremor in his voice. “I think we shouldn’t be allowed to wander off on our own anymore,” he teases, and I can’t help the chuckle that sneaks out of my mouth.

  “Group sex it is,” I tell him, and he barks out a laugh as I help him stand up.

  “I’m totally making a t-shirt for you that says Trouble Magnet,” Sabin teases.

  “Make it black so it matches the Captain Cockblock shirt I’m making for you. Then we can walk around hand in hand, like one of those annoying matchy-matchy couples, kissing each other with too much tongue and freaking people out.”

  Sabin gets to his feet shakily, and Valen and Ryker reach out to steady him and help him back to the house. He shakes his head with a snort and looks back over his shoulder at me. “Like I said, you’re trouble.”

  I rub a tired hand over my face as I watch them walk away and I can’t help the chuckle that escapes me at Sabin’s words. “You know you like it,” I shout out as they disappear into the trees.

  A distant but distinct, “Fuck yeah I do,” reaches me through the foliage, and it tugs my tired, stressed out face into a smile.

  11

  We all stand in the middle of nowhere, running our eyes over everything we can see with the aid of flashlights and a gas lantern. Despite multiple arguments against it over the past three days, all of us stand in an awkward cluster near the border of the Volkov pack’s territory. Muriel stands on the other side of the invisible line, patiently waiting for us to break apart.

  “Are you fucking sure this is going to be okay?” Bastien asks Torrez for the nine millionth time today.

  “It will be fine. If anything attacks the pack, you all can rush in and save the day. Stop worrying so much.” Torrez pats Bastien on the back a couple times and then laces his fingers with mine.

  I’ve never held his hand before, and it feels weird as fuck. The fact that I feel weird about it at all doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me because I’m pretty close to dry humping him at any given moment, so you wouldn’t think hand holding would be a pearl clutching situation, but apparently it is. I feel like I’m about to go on a first date, although I guess I kind of am about to go on a first date. Torrez pulls me over the invisible line delineating the pack territory, and Muriel turns around and leads us away from the guys.

  I don’t look back or get too dramatic about saying goodbye to them. They’re already at DEFCON one, and any sign of nerves or uncertainty from me could have them crossing the line literally and starting some messed up war with these shifters. Or at least that’s how Torrez explains it, and since he would know pack rules better than the rest of us, we’re deferring to his expertise on the matter.

  Torrez lets go of my hand and wraps his arm around my shoulders instead. It makes it awkward to walk since I have my hands fixed to my side, but I relax after a minute and absorb his warm comfort. None of us talk as we make our way further into pack territory, and after about a half an hour, we walk into an open area that has two dozen cabins nestled inside of it. Muriel guides us through the smattering of log housing, and we reach a clearing at the center of all the houses. There are several long tables set up with benches that are full of the Volkov pack, who are already gathered and waiting for us.

  The talking and boisterousness calms as Muriel leads us toward the rows of tables, and I try not to squirm as I feel the pack watching us and taking our measure. I take a deep breath and tell my nerves to fuck off. It may be Torrez that’s making me nervous, but they won’t know that. They’ll just smell the unease, and I don’t want to offend or put a target on my back. I shake off any anxiety and slip my game face on. Torrez gives me an approving squeeze, and I wrap the arm that’s sandwiched awkwardly between us around his lower back. Torrez dips his head down and breathes me in, and as odd as that may be, it helps to fortify me for some reason.

  Two people stand up from the center of the last row of tables, and Muriel leads us to them.

  “Welcome, welcome, we are so very happy to have you. We don’t get visitors often, so this is a treat for us,” the large man standing bellows at us.

  He looks like the human version of the Ghost of Christmas Present from The Muppet Christmas Carol. His red beard sways as he talks, and he bounces on the balls of his feet like he can barely contain his enthusiasm. I immediately like him.

  “My name is Fedor Volkov. I am the alpha of this pack, and this is my mate, Manya Volkov.”

  He gestures to a tall lean woman with silvery-blonde hair and dark depthless eyes. She smiles sweetly at us and dips into a tiny little curtsey.

  “I’m Mateo Torrez, formerly of the Silas pack, and this is my mate, Vinna Aylin,” Torrez introduces in return.

  “Oh, Aylin is it?” Manya asks, and her focus on my last name makes my hackles rise with worry. “You didn’t take your mate’s last name?”

  I breathe through the rush of adrenaline, “Um, no I didn’t,” I tell her stiffly, and she nods at me politely.

  “Come, sit, we’re just getting ready to serve the first course,” Fedor commands, and he motions to a space on the bench directly across from him. “Muriel informed us that you’ve only been in Belarus for a couple weeks; what brings you to this part of the world?” Fedor asks us as he settles himself on his side of the table.

  I’m shocked how easily I understand Fedor and his wife. They have accents, but they’re not so thick that it’s a struggle to
follow what they’re saying. I’m insanely curious how their English is so good, but I don’t want to be an asshole and risk being rude by asking them.

  “Um, we’re here to join some family that was checking out the area,” I answer Fedor’s question vaguely.

  I sit down, and Torrez wraps his hands around my waist and pulls me closer to him, which makes Fedor and his mate chuckle. I look around the table, and everyone is sneaking peeks at us and chatting quietly. Manya raises her hand, and on cue, people pour out of the closest cabin, carrying trays overflowing with food. They spread out around the tables that are filled with shifters and start handing out plates. A bread bowl with some type of thick soup or stew is set in front of me, and steam rises off the top, tempting me with its delicious smell. I move to grab the spoon that’s been set next to the plate, but Torrez stills my hand, covering up the movement by intertwining his fingers with mine and bringing our hands back under the table.

  I look at him curiously, but he just jerks his head in the direction of the alpha. I pause to look around and realize that everyone is watching him and waiting. Alpha Volkov scoops up the thick soup and shovels a bite into his mouth. He savors it for a moment and then swallows it. He turns to his mate and watches as she does the same thing. When Manya is done with her mouthful of food, the alpha gives a nod, and everyone else sitting at the tables digs into their meal. Torrez releases my hand and reaches for his spoon.

  I take a cautious bite of the soup, and it’s all I can do not to spit it out. It’s fucking hot as hell! I form an O with my lips and breathe rapidly, hoping the cool night air might somehow help the molten food on my tongue burn a little less. Motherfucker. I blink away the water in my eyes and grab the cup in front of me to help ease the second degree burn I just gave my tongue. The smell of beer hits my nose as I take a deep pull from the cup, but the liquid is cool, and I’m pretty sure I just scalded off all of my taste buds, so this beer could taste like rotten piss, and I’m none the wiser.

  I don’t miss Torrez’s snicker as he blows on his spoonful of soup and watches me wiggle in discomfort. “The food was steaming, you know. That’s usually an indication that it’s hot,” he teases.

  “I’ll have you know that I was lulled into a false sense of security by the big ass bites Fedor and Manya took,” I whisper yell at Torrez, while I try to discreetly fan my tongue with my hand.

  A laugh rumbles from his chest, and I ignore what the sound does to my body. I manage to eat the rest of my soup and part of the bread bowl without incident, but I have no idea how it tastes. I suppose that could be one good thing about permanently damaging my ability to assess flavor. Even if they feed me something horrible, I won’t offend them by not eating it because it all tastes like numbness to me.

  “So, Torrez, you mentioned that you were formerly of the Silas pack. May I ask why you are not currently part of the Silas pack?” Fedor asks. He wipes his mouth with a cloth napkin and pushes away from the table to give his full stomach a little more room to breathe.

  “Well, Alpha, I’m not sure what your pack rules are, but in my former pack, matings were only permitted between shifters. Because Vinna isn’t a shifter, I had to leave the pack to pursue the mating.”

  I wave off the guilt that starts to creep into my mind at his words and instead focus on the alpha’s response to Torrez’s explanation.

  “Ah I see. We don’t put any major stipulations on our pairings so long as it can result in offspring,” Fedor explains. “Although there are mostly shifters in these parts of the world, so we don’t see as many inter-magic relationships, regardless of the fact that we’re not opposed to them.”

  I open my mouth to ask what he means about the relationships having to result in offspring, but Manya cuts me off.

  “We noticed she doesn’t carry your scent; is it different for other supes than it is for shifters?” she asks, and I furrow my brow, perplexed by what she means.

  Torrez stutters for a moment, and I turn to him, even more confused by his reaction to her question.

  “Forgive my mate’s boldness,” Fedor apologizes. “She’s always been curious and spoken her mind.”

  “It’s fine,” Torrez waves away the apology and takes a sip of beer. “Um, it’s just that Vinna and I haven’t completed the mating yet, so that’s why her scent doesn’t carry mine,” he explains sheepishly.

  Fuck, even I feel embarrassed by what he’s saying, and I didn’t even know this was a thing. Why do I feel like I just got caught doing something I’m not supposed to, or maybe in this case, caught not doing something I was supposed to?

  Manya’s head snaps in my direction, shock written all over her face. “You haven’t completed the mating yet? Why in the world not?” she asks, just like that. Fedor doesn’t jump in this time to apologize for his mate; he looks just as curious and shocked as his wife does.

  “Uh…well…I mean…this just happened a couple weeks ago. I didn’t really know how I felt about it, and there’s been a ton of shit going down since then…”

  “You don’t agree with the pairing?” Fedor interjects, the judgement clear in his tone.

  “No, it’s not that. Yeah, in the beginning I didn’t see it, but then…well…anyway, I’m on board now, but like I said, there’s a lot going on, and there hasn’t been time…” I trail off as Manya’s eyes widen in horror, and she shakes her head at my explanation.

  “We have a den we’d be happy to offer to you,” she tells us, and I sputter on the sip of tasteless beer I’m currently trying to swallow. Torrez pats my back hard a couple times and tries to cover up the smile on his face.

  “That’s very nice of you, but we’re okay. We’re just taking things slow, getting to know each other, you know.” It’s clear by the looks they’re both wearing that they do not, in fact, know at all.

  “Why would you reject such a good mate?” a woman further down the table asks me, her tone baffled.

  “I’m not rejecting him,” I defend. “Is it hot out here?” I ask, and I turn to look around. “Is it suddenly hot to anyone else, or is it just me?” I fan my face and glare at Torrez as he chuckles into his cup while he steals another sip.

  “You had to be a beta in your last pack,” a man to my left announces, like that solves it all.

  “I was,” Torrez informs him.

  “Dominant and good looking, what’s wrong with you?” another woman asks me.

  Animated chatter takes over the table, and I can’t keep track of anything they’re saying as it’s a mixture of English and what sounds like a couple of other languages.

  I look to Torrez to defend me against their crazy, but his smile grows wider, and he just shrugs like there’s nothing he can do.

  “Well, if you don’t want him, I do,” a large woman announces as she stands at the next table over. She’s massive and looks like one of those heavy weight lifters you see in the Olympics, the ones with the tree trunk thighs and the bulldog face.

  “You can’t just challenge me for my mate!” I declare. “He’s mine,” I answer back, my tone a little whinier than I want.

  “Technically she can. You aren’t actually mated until it’s consummated, and since you aren’t interested in doing that right now, the challenge is fair,” Fedor tells me and then looks at Torrez. “Brun would make a fine match; she’d bear you nothing but alphas, I’m sure.”

  It’s all I can do not to tell Fedor he can shove that matchmaker shit up his alpha ass, but being that I’m already in enough trouble with this pack at the moment, I manage to keep my mouth shut. Torrez nods at the alpha like he’s contemplating the offer of Brun and her alpha baby-making skills. I glare at him. The entire pack is already pushing tables out of the way to make a space in the middle of the clearing where it looks like this fight is about to go down. Brun is already on one side of the clearing, hopping up and down and stretching out.

  “Is this for fucking real?” I whisper-screech at Torrez, and I look around to take in the growing excitement of the shif
ters all around us.

  “Looks like it, Witch,” Torrez tells me, with way too much amusement in his voice and sparkling in his eyes.

  He’s fucking loving this.

  “I should just let Brun have you,” I growl at him. “She’d probably break you in half with just her vagina, and then we’d see how funny you think all of this is,” I grumble, and Torrez just smiles even bigger.

  “Kinky,” he retorts and then skips away before I can deck him.

  “What are the terms of this challenge?” Fedor yells out, and the excitable shifters quiet down to hear him.

  “No magic,” Brun shouts out.

  “Then no shifting,” I call back.

  “Winner is mated before sunrise, or they’re open to challenge again,” Manya announces, and I shoot her a fuck off look that doesn’t faze her at all.

  I watch Brun do the last of her stretches, and look down at what I’m wearing. Skinny jeans and a sweater do not make for the best gear to fight in, and I don’t need to risk my range of motion being limited. I kick off my ankle boots, unbutton my pants and shimmy out of them.

  “What are you doing?” Torrez hisses at me.

  “Making it easier to move around,” I hiss back.

  I pull my sweater off over my head, leaving me in a tank top, bra and underwear. A few appreciative whistles sound off in the crowd, and Torrez releases a warning growl and puffs up in challenge. I can’t help but appreciate the dose he’s getting of his own medicine—and his nice pecs. Torrez sniffs at the air and turns his heated gaze on me.

  “Fucking wolf nose,” I grumble to myself, but apparently not quietly enough, because Torrez releases a bark of laughter.

  He slaps me hard on the ass and pushes me forward. “Go win me,” he instructs as I move closer to Brun.

  I want to glare at him, but I’m too busy explaining to my vagina that we have to not die before we can fuck the annoying smile off his face. I’m pretty sure the scent of my arousal is perfuming the air all around me, and I attempt to mask it with anger as I hype myself up for this match. I assess Brun as I start to stretch out, but I’m mostly chanting in my head about all the things pissing me off at the moment and inviting the rage and bloodlust into my veins.