by Tera Shanley
“New plan,” Morgan whisper-screamed. “Get up the tree and I’ll cover you.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Marissa said, scrambling awkwardly up the tree as Morgan put her foot against the body of the wolf and pulled her blade out.
That was the first man she had ever killed, but for reasons beyond her, she was numb. Remorse didn’t waste its time on a she-wolf in the heat of battle.
The man’s body was already transitioning back into its human form. When she was satisfied that Rachel and Marissa were up the tree enough to be safe, she sprinted for the heart of the fight. Two wolves who had spotted her ran for her. The closest one hurled his body weight at her, but she spun and used the power of her movement to cut through his face. The other wolf used her drifted attention to sink long teeth into her leg. So much for the wolves-wouldn’t-hurt-Silver Wolf theory. The fallen wolf’s body hit him in the side, and he dropped like a sack of flour. He didn’t rise again. She frowned. Getting hit by another wolf should have slowed him down, sure, but not killed him.
A small arrow was embedded into his shoulder. Rachel hadn’t lied. She was good.
A few steps more, and she was at the edge of the battle. Two rival wolves already lay dead. Dean and the boys were each occupied in a dogfight, but Grey was nowhere to be seen. He was likely under the sizeable pile of wolves near the edge of the yard. Golden eyes blazed as he lurched out of his attackers and turned on them. At least five were on him as he spun and snapped, his expression focused and fierce as he ripped and clawed at any flesh within reach. The noise of lethal chaos overpowered her sensitive hearing, and she fought the urge to cover her ears.
Bones broke, teeth snapped, and a wolf latched viciously to Grey’s neck as he fought the others. Her wolf howled, and she let her have a voice. She roared so loud it shook her marrow. Deliberately, she stalked the raging attackers with a heavy breath and blades tensed at her sides. She’d remember her training. She’d fight and end it quickly.
A couple of the wolves jerked their heads at her war cry, and feral eyes collided with hers. She slashed at the first one, nicking him but missing a fatal blow, and he shied away as another came for her. She spun away at the last moment, turning to thrust the smaller knife into the back of his neck. She forced his body to the ground with the strength of the blow. As she turned, she punched the other wolf in the side of the face. Gripping the scruff of his neck with both hands, she jerked her knee up to crack it into an unrecovered jaw. He hit the ground hard. She kneeled over him, the big knife in her hand raised for only a second before she brought the blade down into his chest. His struggling claws left bloody gashes in her flesh, but she was numb to the pain.
Grey had moved farther away, bringing the other wolves with him. Dean had finished his wolf and rushed to stand beside her. She passed her need in a single glance, and he tore off for Grey’s attackers. He pulled a wolf out of the fight and engaged him to the side. Another wolf had come out of nowhere to replace the one Dean fought, but Grey had thrown one of the limp bodies off and could focus on the two he had.
She stopped her advance. Her mate could handle the two left.
A cannon ball landed on her back. She hadn’t even heard the other wolf coming before he knocked her into the dirt. She gasped for breath, desperate to drag air into deflated lungs. Brandon lay a few feet away. His vacant, dead eyes stared back at her. His face was grimaced even in death from the last pain-filled moment of his life.
Her grief awakened her suffocating diaphragm. “Brandon!” she screamed.
The wolf on her back scrabbled for her neck. He had no qualms with killing Silver Wolf. It was obvious from the murderous expression on his face when she flipped over to defend herself. He lunged, and she wrapped her arms around his throat. He shook his head viciously and escaped her grasp, then lunged again. That split second of relief turned the tide. All she needed was a moment of relief and opportunity. He had given her both. She had enough room to get her legs up under him, and she kicked with all of her furious strength. Before he could recover, she was on top of him, pinning him to the earth. She wrapped her arms around his neck again and searched frantically for the knife. It lay ten feet away. It would have to be the hard way then.
She got her legs under her and hoisted herself up, still holding the scrabbling wolf by the neck. He was huge, and even with her increased werewolf strength, she still swayed under the strain of his weight. He clawed at her frantically as she tightened her grip around his neck. He tried to pull himself out of her grasp but had little hold after she pulled him off the ground. He was able to get his front claws under her arms and rip them, but she ignored his struggling and held on tighter, locking her arms together and screaming with the effort.
Grey and the pack were finished with their battles and slowly gathered around her. Morgan’s eyes never left a group of unfamiliar wolves who had decided not to fight. They stank of fear and hovered around the vehicles that brought them in. When the suffocating wolf finally grew weaker and stopped struggling altogether, she dropped his limp body. Grey lunged and latched onto his throat, but the wolf was already dead. Her arms shook from exhaustion, and fury wracked her body.
“Hear me!” she screamed in a voice she barely recognized. “I’ll have no mate but this one.” She stabbed a shaking finger at Grey.
Oh, she could guess what she looked like. They would have a new wolf to call Demon after that day. Her white tank top was drenched with blood. It was sticky and dripping down her bare legs. Her arms were freely bleeding from the claw marks she had endured, and a single drop of blood dripped down her pointed finger. It made a small splat against the grass. Sprayed blood was slowly drying on her face, and her eyes were undoubtedly light purple and a disturbing contrast to the bloodstains and her wet and matted dark hair. Let them see her like this. What did she care?
She took the smaller knife from the back of a man’s neck and pointed it at the group of wolves who paced frantically. “Get the hell off of my property and take your dead with you.”
Rachel and Marissa darted around Morgan and toted their weapons through the front door of the cabin. They held the door open as the pack came in one by one. Morgan stayed where she was and glared at each in turn as the unfamiliar wolves Changed and dragged their dead to the cars. A few of them made the sign of the cross as if they were warding off evil. Grey stood beside her, teeth bared and a constant rumble in his throat. Blood matted his coat, and his eyes blazed like the deepest fires of hell. Her own personal demon.
She crashed as the adrenaline burned out of her blood and left her empty. Exhausted.
When the last of the cars had gone, she stumbled over to Brandon’s body and collapsed beside him with her knees in the dirt. A sob escaped, and her shoulders shook uncontrollably with grief. A howl of mourning ripped from Grey. Dean was the first one Changed and out of the house, quickly followed by the others who gathered to mourn the death of their brother.
Everyone had lost the war.
Chapter 2
Brandon’s funeral was on a Wednesday. A subdued and drizzling rain escorted his loved ones to the cemetery, and dark clouds stifled any stubborn rays of sun. The weather was fitting. Morgan found comfort and solace in Marissa and Rachel. The men buried their grief in silence, inviting quiet lips and tumultuous hearts to be their only consorts. The animals inside of them demanded silence to honor the death of their brother, and the ways of the wolf were often the ways of the werewolf.
Brandon’s loss was a blow to the pack, and their agony was her fault. Brandon’s life cut short was on her. Without Silver Wolf, dissension in the packs wouldn’t have such mortal consequences. The police report said it was an animal attack, and a two-day hunt on Grey’s property turned up nothing that could have done this to a man. Jason had advised him to allow the hunt and cooperate with the police to shut Brandon’s case as soon as possible. On Dean’s order, no one Changed until everything had blown over. The last thing they needed was for
panicked hunters looking for some animal to pin this senseless tragedy on.
Brandon’s coworkers and friends had left some time before, but Morgan couldn’t seem to drag herself away from his open grave. So many memories of her own sister and Marianna’s funeral flooded back. The rest of the pack slunk miserably into plastic chairs, ignoring the drizzle and staring at his headstone in silence. Beloved Brother and Friend, it read.
“This can’t happen again,” Dean said quietly from the row behind. His voice cracked on the last word, as if he hadn’t used it in a long time.
Grey’s draped his arm around the back of her chair and rubbed a gentle thumb against the material of her damp dress. “Did you call the Old Ones?”
The chair creaked as the alpha sat forward in his seat. “I did. I gave them the names of the involved packs. They said they will contact all known packs and put a ban on pursuing Silver Wolf, but it won’t be enough. They want us to take her to Summit. Explain the situation and burn the rumor mill.”
Grey leaned forward and ran his hands through his damp hair. Sandy blond tendrils fell forward and hid his eyes.
“Look,” Dean said. “I know the plan was to steer clear of the gathering, but things have changed. It’ll take about eight seconds for others to catch on to the idea. Eventually, they will show up by the truckload, and we can’t fight them like that. They’ll pick us off. Brandon would only be the beginning.”
“We’ll help you keep them safe,” Brent said. His lips against his clenched hands had muffled his voice.
Dean’s eyes were a light and reflective gray. Much lighter than the thunderheads that hovered above the cemetery. Losing a member took a physical and emotional toll on an alpha. “We have to take control of this. The Old Ones want to hold an alpha meeting with every available leader in North America. We can field questions and clear up misunderstandings. You’ll be announced as Morgan’s mate so those other idiots don’t get the bright idea to challenge for an unclaimed female.” He sighed heavily. “It’s our best shot at keeping everyone alive.”
The shimmering yellow of Grey’s gaze fell on her. She brushed the side of his face with her fingertips, and he leaned into her touch.
“We’ll be okay, Wolf,” she promised.
He kissed the palm of her hand lightly. “We need big enough lodging for all of us to stay together.”
* * * *
“Are you all packed, or do we need to get more of your clothes from Rachel’s?” Morgan asked Marissa as they turned down their long, dirt driveway.
Summit was in the windy mountains of New Mexico that year. The weather would be much cooler than in Texas.
“Nah, I’ve got enough. It’s not like I’m trying to impress any of those wolves. I’m contemplating not showering until after Summit.”
Morgan snorted. “I don’t think that would deter them.”
The girl leaned forward and squinted out the front window. “Who’s that?”
Morgan hit the brakes and a dust cloud wafted over a shiny and expensive-looking Mercedes Benz. “Whoops.”
Marissa rested her hand on the door handle. “You want us to stay here?”
Morgan hesitated. She wasn’t excited about being split up. Not after learning her lesson from the Montana attack. Wolves hunted in packs. “No. Come on in with me.”
She grabbed Lana from her car seat, hoisted out a bag of groceries, and headed for the house. Her ears pricked for any unfamiliar sound. When she pushed the door open and stepped inside, Grey’s irritated but calm voice came softly from the kitchen.
“Can you watch Lana in here? I’m going to find out what is going on.”
Marissa nodded and gripped Lana’s little hand.
Morgan padded toward the kitchen, but paused on the other side of the separating wall.
“No, Dad,” Grey said with exaggerated patience. “And what are you really doing here? You know I have no interest in running your company.”
“Yes, but when I was flagged about you tapping your trust fund, I thought you finally changed your mind. It is still something I want from you. The company should stay in the Crawford name.”
The scratch of friction sounded as Grey ran his hand over the two-day stubble on his chin.
“Why don’t you take off those ridiculous sunglasses?” The man asked. “I can’t even see your face, and it’s been two years since the last time we saw each other. I hope you don’t treat all of your guests like this.”
“No, just you.” The chair creaked as Grey leaned back into it.
She could easily imagine Grey’s father rubbing his finger across the table, looking for dust. Arrogance and disgust were likely as evident on his face as they were in his voice.
His tone was harsh. “So you used part of your trust fund to buy this place?”
“Yes,” Grey answered. “And the property around it. I was ready to make a home.”
“So, do you have a job, or are your big future plans to leach off the trust fund as long as possible? The account, which I’m sure you have guessed, was not my idea but your mother’s. I knew it would lead to this—a lazy man. She disagreed. I wish she could have lived long enough so that I could have told her ‘I told you so.’”
Grey’s chair screeched across the floor. The smell of coffee filled the kitchen as Grey poured another cup. He had to have known she was here. Surely, if he wanted her in there with him, he would have called her in. The smell of coffee mixed with anger. Couldn’t his father sense the danger?
“I have a job. It’s something I enjoy, and it looks as if I will be able to make more money at it than at my last job.”
“Oh yeah? What is it you do?”
“Nothing you would care about or understand.” Grey sat back down at the table, and his slow breath sounded as he blew on hot coffee.
The air was charged, and the silence deafening. “I heard something that disturbed me greatly,” his father said.
“Ah, here we go. Okay, and what is that, Dad?”
“I heard you are living with a woman. I had my people look into her. Single parent whose house was a rat hole? She practically lived in a box before she moved into your house. I think you may have jumped in over your head, son. This reeks a little too much of what I went through with your mother.”
“Not that it matters because she is independent and runs her own business, but Morgan didn’t even know I had money until after we were engaged,” Grey growled out. His teeth snapped together audibly at the end.
That was her cue. Preferably, before Wolf tore his father to shreds all over her nice clean kitchen. She rushed in with a bag of groceries still clutched in her hand.
“Hey babe,” she said, giving Grant-the-Dill-Hole-Crawford her back. She planted a kiss on Grey’s mouth and smiled apologetically. “Sorry, I’m late.”
She dropped the paper bag and turned to Grant with her hand outstretched. “Morgan Crawford. I’m Grey’s wife.”
Her hand lingered in the air as his face went blank with surprise. Eyes narrowed at her, he shook it as if it was a wet fish. He was a handsome man, tall and trim, but that was about where the similarities stopped between Grant and his son. Grey must have taken after his mother. Small blessings.
She smiled cheerily. “We would have invited you to the wedding, but Grey assured us you were a prick.”
Grey snorted and spat coffee onto the table. He cleared his throat to cover a bark of a laugh, but the smile lingered at the edge of his lips. Lana barreled into the kitchen, and Marissa leaned lazily against the wall with a smirk on her face.
“Dad, Dad! Hey Daddy!” Lana jumped up and down. “Look what Mommy got me,” she said, shaking a half-eaten bag of gummy worms at him.
He covered his surprise with a smile that burrowed into his eyes. “I love gummy worms. Can I have one?”
She nodded and plunked one into his mouth. “Good, baby bird,” she crooned and petted his hair. His unease all but disappeared. Lana had an uncann
y ability to bring out a glimpse of the mushy, sweet center in Wolf.
Grant sat there in shocked silence. Morgan shrugged and rifled through the grocery bag, separating ingredients she would be using to make dinner. Lana had taken Grey’s sunglasses off and was trying to put them on herself.
Grant leaned over the table. “You know this precious little family scene doesn’t prove anything except that little spitfire really does have you under her spell.”
Grey stood slowly.
“Run, Grant,” she squeaked through a smile.
“That pathetic, weak little child you always claimed to have had? He never existed,” Grey bit out. He raised savage golden eyes to his father’s face. “Talk about my wife or family like that again, and you will regret it.”
Grant’s eyes widened until he looked comical.
“If I didn’t engage in your ridiculous arguments, it didn’t make me weak.” Grey growled. “It made me smart. Ignoring you was always more prudent than arguing with you.”
Grant backed up a step but lifted his chin primly. “Any backbone you got was because of the way I brought you up.”
Oh, hang first impressions. She couldn’t imagine them hosting family picnics together anyway. “I do believe he got his brains and strength from his mother. Credit where credit is due, please. Now, I have a dinner to prepare.” She smiled brightly. “I would ask you to stay over, but you called me a gold digger. I’ll walk you out. Please feel free to never show up unannounced again.”
Grey gave his father an altogether unfriendly smile. “You heard my wife. See you later, Dad.”
Morgan led Grant out to the front door, only pausing when he was outside.
Morgan crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the doorframe. “You know, you really should be proud of him.”
“For what?”
“For turning into such a great husband and father despite his upbringing. He is happy, Mr. Crawford. That’s what any parent should want for their child.”
