by Rosanna Leo
He could make this work and was even excited to see it unfold.
All because of Charlotte. Knowing she believed in him made all the difference. He was grateful his parents had seen his potential before he had and trusted him with the role, but Charlotte’s approval sat like a shiny gold star on his forehead. It made him want to aim even higher.
Now he just had to talk to Flynn and return to his fretting lady wolf.
He knocked on Fletcher’s front door and his cousin whipped it open. “Bart,” he said, smiling. “Thanks for coming.”
He stepped inside, surveyed the interior of the cabin, and was struck by an oddity. In many ways, Fletcher and Flynn had always been total opposites. Certainly this applied to how they kept house, how they dressed, and some of their other mannerisms. For instance, where Fletcher always dressed in designer duds, Flynn was usually as put together as Homer Simpson. Fletcher’s cabin didn’t break the mold. Everything was in its place. From the shoes lined up at the front door to the hospital corners on the bed, the room was in complete order.
And there was no sign of Flynn. No rumpled sheets on the couch. No open suitcases, their contents spilling onto the floor. No scent of Flynn anywhere.
His hackles went up and his wolf growled. “Where’s your brother?”
Fletcher’s smile stretched wider. “Oh, he’s just out back, walking the paths.”
“He knew I was coming and went for a walk?”
“Working off his nerves, I’d expect. He’s just in the clearing behind us. Why don’t you go talk to him there? I’ll stay here and give you some privacy, my Alpha.”
Okay, it was officially starting to bug Bart, how Fletcher called him my Alpha. He wasn’t a goddamn king, after all. As a hundred warped possibilities flew into his head, he tore out the door and headed behind the cabin, readying his wolf for action. Each sordid scenario seemed to conclude with Fletcher finally losing his shit and eating Flynn, big-bad-wolf style. Could it be he’d have to stage an intervention between the brothers? All he knew for certain was a lurching, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, very much like what Charlotte had described. Even still, as much as he didn’t trust Fletcher’s easy smile, he couldn’t credit either of the brothers with such a Biblical level of mischief.
Hell. They were family.
“Flynn?” he called out, still not catching a hint of his scent. “Where are you?”
Calm footsteps sounded behind him. He turned around and saw Fletcher emerge from between the trees, his frame a dark shadow. As he stepped into the clearing, Bart’s wolf eyes saw he no longer wore his smile.
But he had acquired a gun.
He angled his head to take in the sleek silencer. “Nice piece.”
“Do you like it? I bought it just for you.”
“How thoughtful.”
Fletcher’s low laugh unnerved him. For the first time in a long time, Bart saw the simmering glow of rage in his cousin’s eyes. He hadn’t seen that look since a wolf Fletcher attacked him in his teenaged human form so many years ago. “Did you use the gun on Flynn?”
“Hell, no. He might be an utter waste of space, but he is my brother. Not like you.” His cousin took a step toward him.
“So where is he?”
“I sent him home. When it suits my purposes, I’ll reintroduce him to the pack.”
“As Alpha?”
Fletcher’s cold laughter echoed in the woods. “Flynn’s too much of a moron to be Alpha, but he’ll make a good flunkie. No, I’ll be in charge.”
Bart offered him a cynical smile. “So you were just putting on a good show when you bowed and called me my Alpha?”
He gritted his teeth. “Just like your dad put on a good show when he came home and informed us our father was dead. Just like your mother put on a good show when she cried at my parents’ funerals. Just like you and Lena and Nate put on good shows when you pretended sympathy and then laughed behind our backs.”
“That did not happen. We never laughed at you, nor at Flynn.”
“I saw it myself! Whenever you and Nate joked about girls you wanted to date, I knew you were really laughing at us because the girls wouldn’t look at the sad Cairo boys. Whenever your mom joked with friends about the challenges of keeping a fridge stocked for five shifter kids, I knew she regretted having us in her house.”
“That’s bullshit. You’ve fabricated scenarios that never happened. It’s all in your head, Fletcher.”
Without warning, his cousin smacked himself hard in the head and screamed, “Don’t tell me what’s in my head!”
Bart braced himself and planned his attack. He could put out a telepathic call to the pack, but didn’t want any of them getting in the path of Fletcher’s gun. He had no way of communicating with Lloyd or Connor, his security buddies, as they were different sorts of shifters and not open to receiving his messages. No way in hell was he calling Charlotte. Thank God she was tucked away in his cabin.
No, this was his fight. And the fact he had to battle against a man he’d considered more or less a brother made him sadder than he would have expected to feel. However, seeing the fanatical light in Fletcher’s eyes made him realize his cousin wasn’t the same man he remembered. Perhaps he’d never really been that man. Maybe on some level, they’d all been blind. Perhaps they’d focused so much on Flynn’s obvious resentment that they’d missed Fletcher’s hidden fury.
Well, he couldn’t miss it now. And God forgive him, he’d react accordingly.
* * * *
As Charlotte raced through the woods toward Fletcher’s cabin, her nerves got worse with every step. She still wasn’t sure what sort of situation Bart was walking into, or what she’d see when she got there, but she just knew it wasn’t going to be good. The thought that someone might hurt him, even in the smallest way, had her wringing her hands as she ran.
Surely her wolf had it wrong. This had to be a big mistake. Okay, everyone had a messed up family, but the suspicions in her head were worthy of a Shakespeare tragedy.
Tired of second guessing herself in so many ways, she continued. A crack of wood sounded behind her and she stopped in her spot.
She had company.
As her wolf crouched low inside her, on guard, Charlotte whipped around to see what had made the noise, praying it was merely a regular animal wandering the woods. A chipmunk would be nice.
However, when the flash of fur passed by her left side, her hopes for a chipmunk confrontation were dashed. For a moment, she wondered if Jason Burns had managed to escape the police yet again. Bart had been so convinced the criminal would seek her out, or someone he loved, in retribution. Had that moment come?
She realized her error when a sleek mountain lion roamed between the nearby trees, its luminescent gaze fixed on her. At first, she thought it might be just a regular mountain lion, but it was too big to be all animal. This dude was definitely shifter.
“Connor?” she called out, hoping it was her pal in security. Of course, Connor wouldn’t have scared her while she was out in the woods alone. If he’d run into her, he would have approached in human form.
The animal shook its head, confirming her suspicions.
Her wolf charged her ribcage. We need to get to Bart. Tell the cat to step aside.
She took a few steps away from the great cat. “Uh, excuse me. Nice kitty.” She watched it as it watched her, and it didn’t move. Feeling a bit better, she picked up her pace and looked away.
Until she heard the man call her name in a slightly drunken, sing-song voice. “Oh, Charlotte. Did you miss me?”
As her heart sank, she turned around to face the familiar, nude figure. “Dylan. What the fuck?”
“Hi, sexy lady. I just couldn’t stay away.”
She planted her feet and considered escape routes while trying to look as if she was giving him all her attention. “Um, you need to get out of here before Bart sees you. I swear to God, he didn’t like you before. If he sees you now, he will rain hellfire all over your nak
ed ass.”
He narrowed his eyes, as if thinking hard. “Bart. Which one of the hicks was he? Oh yeah, the dude who kicked me out. Your special friend.”
“He’s more than a friend. We’re mated now.”
He pretended to wipe a tear from his eyes. “Oh, be still, my heart. Well, congratulations.”
“You didn’t come here to throw confetti at me.”
“Not really.”
“Then why are you here? To apologize?”
When he laughed out loud, she caught the stench of rum. He’d definitely been drinking, but he didn’t appear as drunk as she’d first suspected. His movements were too steady. She had to watch her step around him. Yes, she could shift into her wolf and fight him, but as an animal, he was larger than she was.
“No, bitch. I’m not here to apologize.” He took a few more steps toward her, his muscles tensing with raw energy and the need to make her hurt. “You see, when I went home to Toronto, I decided to have it out with Dr. Reynolds. I’ve been in the department longer than you have. I’ve been published. I’ve made contributions you can’t conceive of. I explained it to him. And you know what the good doctor said to me? He told me I should seek professional help for my drinking before it cost me my job. And then he said his decision was final and the role was yours. Apparently your work is so goddamn perfect in his eyes, you could shit on his mother’s head, and he’d still think you were a fucking angel.”
“I can understand you’d be disappointed.”
“Disappointed? Charlotte, I’m not fucking disappointed. I’m incensed! That job should have been mine. I was a shoe-in until you started showing interest. And now? What do I do? I’ve tailored my entire educational career toward procuring the job they gave to you.”
“There are other roles out there, Dylan.”
“Not in our department. It’ll be years before something similar opens up and I’m not relocating my whole life to some God-forsaken place. No, like you and I have joked in the past, you don’t get a job in our department unless someone dies.” He moved right in front of her. “So, you have to die, Charlotte.”
Even as he crouched so he could shift into his beastly shape, she pleaded with him. “Dylan, I can’t do this right now. My mate’s in trouble. Let me go to him, and I swear I’ll come back and we’ll talk this out. We’ll work something out.” Before the last few words were out of her mouth, she began to run.
He didn’t stop to further discuss the possibilities. Dylan shifted and broke into a sprint.
And as she fumbled away, rendered un-coordinated by fear, her wolf called out to her mate’s. Bart!
* * * *
Charlotte!
As Fletcher paced and mumbled to himself on the other side of the clearing, Bart fought to stand upright as the pain in his stomach grew unbearable. And now his wolf was calling out for her. What was going on?
Biting his lip, he stifled a shout of pain, and prayed Fletcher would remain distracted for a moment or two so he could focus on his mate. Damn! He shouldn’t have cut off his connection to her.
Charles, what’s happening? I can feel your fear.
Bart! I was coming to find you and ran into Dylan in the woods. He’s deranged. He wants to kill me. And for a fucking job!
Mother of God. As sweat broke out on his lip, he knew he had to get out of there to help Charlotte. There was no way he could do it while his cousin rampaged just a few paces away, brandishing a loaded weapon. Shifters might heal from most things, but bullets could still tear their way through shifter flesh and kill. I’m coming, baby. I promise.
Putting out a silent call to any pack members within easy distance, he told them about Charlotte’s plight. Satisfied he was heard, he concentrated on Fletcher. Seeing him lost in thought, Bart slowly backed away. As luck would have it, Fletcher chose that moment to return to lucidity. He aimed the gun at Bart’s heart. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
He put a hand up, in a gesture of calm. “It’s Charlotte. She needs me, Fletcher. I have to help her.”
He smirked. “Oh, Charlotte. Yeah, she’s a tasty piece. You know, after I dispose of you, I think I’m going to teach her some manners. I didn’t like the way she looked down her nose at me. She might change her mind once I’m looking down my gun at her. I bet I could get her to do a lot of interesting things.”
Bart’s scar felt like an angry, pulsing mass on his face as he imagined his cousin holding Charlotte at gunpoint, forcing her to degrade herself with him. So help him, he’d make Fletcher eat his own gun before he ever got close enough to his mate to make any of those things happen. “I’ll die before I let you touch her.”
“That’s sorta the idea here. And I will touch her. I’ll touch her hard.”
Tasting blood, Bart realized he’d bitten his lip. If he wasn’t careful, his rage would get the better of him. He forced his outraged wolf into a corner and framed his words in the calmest voice he had. “You know, it saddens me that we can’t fight honorably over this, wolf to wolf. Why don’t you put the gun down and you can show me what you’re really made of? After all, if you want to be Alpha, you’ll be expected to be strongest. You always take the easy road, Fletcher. You took it when you gave me my scar, and you’re cheating again now.”
He bristled. “Even without the gun, I could totally take you.”
“You don’t sound convinced. What’s the matter? Worried your wolf will look like a little puppy next to mine?”
“Don’t talk to me like that.”
“I’m just stating what’s obvious. It’s clear you’re afraid of wolf-to-wolf combat.”
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“Prove it. Shift, and let’s do this old school. Come on, cousin.”
It seemed a bit of goading was all it took to fire up Fletcher’s ego. Banking on what he knew of his cousin’s natural fussiness, Bart was gratified to see him lower the gun and begin to carefully strip out of his clothes.
Bart wasn’t quite so fussy.
Without bothering to disrobe, Bart shifted with an enraged burst, splitting through his clothing. The fragments of denim and flannel hadn’t even floated to the ground before he lunged.
Panicked, not even half-undressed, Fletcher saw his mistake and shifted at the last minute. But not before Bart had the perverse pleasure of raking his claws down his face, giving him a nearly identical scar. Wolf Fletcher howled in pain, blood streaming into his eye. He bared his fangs and leaped into the air toward Bart.
Maddened with bloodlust, and the need to get to Charlotte, Bart met him head on, determined to make it a quick fight. As their bodies crashed and clashed, he called out to make sure his mate was okay. Charlotte?
I’m here. I’ve shifted. He’s chasing me but doesn’t know the woods here like I do.
Good girl. Keep him running.
Fletcher clamped his jaw down on his thigh and he cursed mentally.
Bart? What’s happening?
It’s Fletcher. Guess who wants to be Alpha.
Oh, shit. Be careful!
Don’t worry about me. Just keep that scumbag Dylan running until I can rip out his throat. And please, be careful too.
Bart tussled with Fletcher, rolling around and around in the snow with him. All the while, he snapped and growled, sickened at the steps he had to take. He bit down on his cousin’s shoulder, and the other wolf yelped in pain.
Good. Now if he could only get to his vulnerable neck.
The two wolves ripped and tore at each other’s fur. Bart felt the sting of resentment in each of Fletcher’s attacks, but he had his own terror for Charlotte spurring him on. He would not let Fletcher best him, not while his mate was out there, threatened and alone. He barked in fury and lunged for his cousin’s neck, but Fletcher managed to roll out from under him. No sooner had he wriggled free, Bart pinned him again, forcing his sharp back claws into the other man’s haunches.
And still Fletcher found the strength to push him off.
What’s th
e matter, cuz? he taunted. Getting tired?
The two canines faced each other, eyes burning, blood matting both sets of fur. Hot air poured from their open mouths as they panted. And in that moment, facing down an enemy that should never have been one, Bart realized this was where he must truly stake his claim as Alpha. The transfer of power from father to son had been peaceful, but this skirmish between cousins demanded a bloody finish. And he was just the wolf man to do it.
He let out a bloodthirsty howl that rang through the woods, to let Charlotte know he was coming. And then he aimed his gaze at Fletcher.
I am Alpha. I don’t get tired.
As Fletcher paused, absorbing his words, Bart launched himself at him, aiming for his throat. Fletcher didn’t have time to shield the sensitive area and could not fend off the attack. Bart’s canines sank deep into his cousin’s throat and blood filled his mouth. As his kinsman’s voice issued in a garbled groan, Bart finished him off to put him out of his misery.
A sad end to a sad chapter, one whose implications he didn’t have time to consider now.
He put out a call to his dad and brother to let them know where to find Fletcher, and then he honed in on Charlotte to determine her exact location.
He would taste blood twice tonight.
Chapter 14
Charlotte knew, to a human observer, it might appear the mountain lion and the silver wolf were playing a mad game of “Catch Me If You Can.” However, any shifter would realize their frantic dash through the trees was her attempt to wear him down. Any shifter would have smelled the fear and antagonism in the air, and would have known this was a battle to the end. Another shifter would have intervened. However, in a resort full of the blasted creatures, she couldn’t seem to find another shifter to save her life.
Granted, Dylan wasn’t letting her anywhere near the resort. She’d run a huge circle through the outer woods, over crags and under fallen trees, but every time she made an attempt to get closer to the Ursa property, he cut her off.
