Pack Violet Shadow (The Seven Mates of Zara Wolf Book 2)

by Stunich, C. M.

  “Yes, well,” Whitney said, ashing her cigarette on the forest floor, little gray flakes floating like twisted snowflakes. “Seeing my people corrupted in the pursuit of power goes against everything I am, everything the Maiden represents. Harm to others extends beyond the walls of our coven. I can't sit by and watch the wolves harvested like chattel.”

  Whitney took a step forward and Jax let out a deep, angry snarl, warning her away from me.

  “Relax, puppy,” Whitney purred, glancing up as Aeron came around the trunk of a large spruce and crunched her way across snow and ice in feet as bare as my own. The way the witch girl watched the fae girl … was certainly interesting.

  'They're lovers,' Montgomery said, reading their body language as easily as if the women had spoken their feelings aloud. He pressed his big white body against my leg, and I felt that pain and horror in our pack connection, the fear of knowing that each minute that ticked by, his family suffered.

  I shouldn't have let him torture Julian … it'd been too much.

  “Whit,” Aeron said, sliding in close to the other girl and putting a single hand on her bare arm, smearing the silver sigils across the witch's skin.

  'They can't be lovers,' I said, licking my lower lip. 'The Maiden is bound to a life of chastity.'

  “Aeron,” Whitney responded, holding her cigarette out to the side and leaning in toward the faerie princess. They closed the distance between their lips like they were in the middle of a sensual slow dance, heavy half-lidded eyes closing, their bodies quaking with strain and want and ardor. When they finally did touch, the kiss was closemouthed and full of quivering need, an achy brush of lips that looked like it might drive them both insane.

  'Not physical lovers yet,' Jax corrected, sitting down next to me, pink tongue lolling from his mouth. 'But their dual involvement in our business suddenly makes a bit more sense.'

  “What's going on?” I asked aloud as the two girls broke apart and stared into one another's eyes for a long, quiet moment. When they both finally did turn and look at me, it was like they were drugged.

  “What?” Aeron asked, pushing her glamoured black hair over one shoulder.

  “How do you two know each other?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest and hiding the hardened points of my nipples. It was cold out. That, and … seeing the two girls touch like that, knowing they couldn't take it any further without stripping Whitney of her position as the Maiden … it made me ache for the boys, crave their lips on mine, their hands on my skin, their cocks pushing between my thighs.

  “I summoned Aeron across the Veil,” Whitney said, ashing her cigarette again and taking another drag, the cherry burning bright in the quiet dark of the forest. “We made a deal for her to take me to Faerie and read the bones; they can't be read this side of the Veil, you know? Dead don't often stick around this plane long enough to tell fortunes.” She puffed on her cigarette, pulling the burn all the way down to the filter and flicking it aside. “And, well, we didn't expect to feel what we feel.”

  “You guys are into each other?” I asked.

  Whitney flicked her gaze over to Aeron and took in a deep breath.

  “More than that,” she said, looking back at me. “But that's neither here nor there. I called on Aeron because I needed help. I see my coven diving into a black hole, and I don't know how to stop it. The …” She paused and closed her eyes for a moment. “The power we get from consuming the flesh of wolves is enormous. Your people have magic stored from centuries of living with the earth, coexisting against mother nature's breast.”

  Jax let out another growl as I dropped my hands again and touched both him and Monty, feeling our pack connection ground me to the spot. Helped keep my temper in check, that's for fucking sure.

  “But it's not our magic to wield. Witchcraft is all about balance, of coexistence, of taking what the goddess gives us and being grateful for it. I've seen our destruction in Aeron's divinations. If we keep on this path, we'll suffer for it.”

  “So you're betraying your coven to keep them safe?” I asked and Whitney sighed.

  “It's not a betrayal. You don't understand the power of the Crone,” she whispered, looking straight at me; the fear in her eyes … it was very much real. I could smell it, even through the dousing of witch hazel. “I have to be careful about how I do this or I'll end up in her evening stew.”

  Montgomery shifted into human form beside me, panting slightly, his anxiety amping up all of a sudden.

  Shit.

  I curled my fingers through his and he squeezed my hand back hard enough that he might've broken something had I been human.

  “She eats other witches?” he asked, voice quivering slightly. I looked up at his face, his white hair unbound and hanging in a sheet down his back. I wasn't really a fan of long hair on men, but on Montgomery, with that knightly persona of his … it worked. It worked really fucking well.

  “What doesn't she eat?” Whitney asked, and I felt goose bumps crawl across my skin. “But yes, my statement was literal.”

  “The wolves … my sisters …” Montgomery started, his voice an icy wind that chilled me to the bone. “Where are they? Are they dead?”

  “A few wolves have died in our care,” Whitney said carefully, letting Aeron curl her fingers around her upper arm. “But the Crone's been harvesting flesh and letting them heal for the most part.”

  “Where the fuck are they?” Montgomery growled, shaking all over by this point.

  “I don't know. As the Maiden, I'm not privy to any sort of information that might compromise my standing in the Three—”

  “Fuck!” Monty yelled, raking his fingers through his long hair. He turned away and punched a tree as hard as he could, breathing heavily through his nose. It was the first time I'd seen him break like this. True, I hadn't known him long, but in the last week we'd been through some serious shit and he'd stayed calm, composed.

  Not now.

  “I tried to divine their positions, but the fates could not answer,” Aeron said as Whitney got out another cigarette.

  “Wherever they're being held, I can promise the spellwork is top-notch, baby. Even you wouldn't be able to divine past that.” Whitney put her arm around her … girlfriend's? … waist and pulled her close. “But that's not to say we're out of ideas. That's why I came here tonight. I need a way to contact you. Call me. I've put a spell on my phone. If you call it, all the words that leave your lips will sound like gibberish to any scrying ears.”

  I moved toward Montgomery and slid my arms around his waist, putting my cheek to his bare back. It was quite the intimate move for a human, but for a wolf … it was natural to touch in situations of high stress.

  Monty turned in my arms and pulled me into his, giving me another hug like the one we'd shared inside Faith's shed. Only … we were naked this time and Montgomery was throbbing with adrenaline and rage. I could feel it.

  He squeezed me as tightly as he'd squeezed my hand earlier, Jax's furry body pressing up against the backs of my calves. I decided to relax into it, despite our audience, and put my cheek to his chest, so I could look at the two girls across the snow spotted clearing.

  In the shadows, both the witch and the fae girl looked like pretty nightmares.

  “Call me so I have your number,” Whitney repeated, reaching up to adjust her black pointed hat. “And I'll call you when I know what to do next.”

  “I just sent word to the Crown Aurora Blood Queen that I'd like a meeting,” I said, searching Whitney's face for the truth. She could be full of shit, and so could Aeron. After finding out that a wolf—an alpha at that—was working for the enemy, I was feeling even less trusting than usual.

  “Good idea,” Whitney said, smoking her new cigarette. “When this all started, both our coven and Kingdom Ironbound sent reps over to speak with the Crowns. They killed every single witch and Blood in that entourage.” She sighed like she was as tired as I was. Bone weary. That deep sense of fatigue that sneaks over and pulls you un
der whether you like it or not.

  I listened to Montgomery's heartbeat as I watched the Coven Triad Maiden pull her girlfriend just a little bit closer. They had to walk a fine, strange line with that Maiden magic. I wasn't sure what exactly would break Whitney's connection to the Three, but I hoped they were being careful. Even with the restrictions placed on her by her position, being a part of the ruling coven council was far better than being a Maiden cast aside.

  “Tell me about Allister,” I said next and Whitney paused, dropping her face to look down at the forest floor. When she looked up at me again, I knew I was going to get it, the awful, horrible truth.

  “The wolf?” she asked, but she already knew. “The Alpha Male of Pack Obsidian Gold,” she said again, and I was glad that Silas wasn't here for this. I could barely handle the feelings tumbling out of Montgomery, all of that rage and sadness, that awful aching helplessness. It was taking over him, a dark wave of shadows and ice. “He was the one that brought your peoples' … unique abilities to our attention. The flesh … the blood … He made a contract with the Crone.” Whitney paused and the edge of her blue painted mouth twitched. “Much like you did, although he didn't so effortlessly weasel out of his end.”

  Whitney glanced down at Aeron for a long moment, meeting the fae's eyes, and then looked up at me.

  “We haven't been kidnapping 'weres', Zara Wolf. Allister Vetter and his people … they've been delivering them.”

  “I need to run,” Montgomery told me at the bottom of the Pairing House porch steps.

  Whitney was long gone, but we had an appointment to meet for coffee on Saturday. Aeron, on the other hand, was still here. Apparently, she had nowhere else to go. I'd have to figure out what to do with her later. Right now, I needed to deal with this first.

  “You need to come inside and take a warm shower,” I told him, putting my palms on either of his quivering biceps. Those emerald eyes of his were haunted and broken and full of rage. I hadn't realized, in all his easygoing affability, how much he was affected by everything that'd happened. He'd hid it so well, I hadn't felt it through our pack connection either.

  Maybe if we'd had sex … my mind inserted, but I wasn't sure if I was ready for that, after what'd happened between me and Silas earlier. There was so much going on, what I really needed was a moment in bed with a slice of yesterday's pizza, a cold beer, and a shitty background movie I wouldn't pay much attention to.

  'How old are you?' I asked Che, sliding my palms down Montgomery's arms and guiding him gently toward the porch steps. He walked like a fucking zombie and that scared the hell out of me.

  'Twenty-one, which is probably why you asked, right? What do you want? Vodka? Tequila? Bourbon?'

  'Honestly? A cold beer would be really nice right now,' I said, and I felt him chuckle. 'There are places on Ebon Red property to grab alcohol—it's even brewed on-site—but I don't want to deal with anyone else tonight.'

  'Okay, Alpha-Red,' he said, his voice that deep, lovely purr, even in wolfspeak. And lucky me, there was only a hint of anger in there. 'I'll go buy your underage ass some booze.'

  'Only in the human world,' I replied coyly, because human laws were inconsequential to us. I was eighteen, far older than necessary to enjoy a beer. There were no steadfast rules in the packs, but generally anyone over fifteen was allowed to make their own choices when it came to consuming alcohol.

  Che came out of the Pairing House with Tidus and Anubis on his heels and watched as I pulled poor Montgomery up the steps to stand beside them.

  “Can I get you anything at the store, man?” he asked, jiggling the SUV's keys in one hand. I wondered if he'd asked Nic before he'd grabbed them? The Yukon might've belonged to Pack Ebon Red—aka Nikolina—but since he was the only one who drove this particular one, he kind of considered it his. He wouldn't be happy to see Che Nocturne in the driver's seat.

  “No, no … I just … I need to run,” Montgomery said again, and I felt the change ripple across his skin like wind across the surface of a pond. He stared down at me, but he wasn't really looking at me. He was too deep into the moment, letting it all catch up to him at once.

  “Running helps,” I told him, trying to get him to not just look at me, but to see me as well, “but not when you're trying to run from something you can't handle or toward something you can't change. Come inside, take a shower, and lie down in the big bed.”

  “How can I lie down when my sisters are being chopped up and put in a monster's stew? When somebody could take a knife, just like I did today, and cut my father's fingers off? How can I relax when I know they're suffering?” Montgomery licked his lower lip and made a low, soft growling sound in his throat, closing his brilliant green eyes for a long, quiet moment. “How, Zara?” he asked, and I swear, my heart broke into little pieces for him.

  “Wars are not won by charging in tired, hungry, and broken.” I put my hands on either side of the much taller werewolf's face and waited for him to open his eyes. When he did, they were at least clear enough that I knew he was listening to me. “Careful cunning, Monty. That's what's going to get us through this. Denying yourself basic needs won't lessen their suffering. Let's shower, eat, and rest up. By tomorrow, we should know if Aurora's accepted our request for a meeting.”

  “No need to wait,” Nic said, coming out to join the rest of us on the porch. He tucked his hands in his pockets and gestured with his chin. I followed his gaze and saw the distant shape of an Ebon Red wolf loping toward us.

  It was Lana.

  “I'll go meet her so she doesn't accidentally sniff out that faerie girl,” he said, running his tongue over his lower lip as he passed me by, purposefully brushing his body against mine. I still needed to address the whole paramour comment, but hell, I didn't know when I was supposed to find the time.

  “We'll bring you some sour candy back,” Anubis said carefully, like he'd really thought through his response. “That'll cheer you up, right Monty?”

  “Wow, you really do take in a lot, don't you?” Montgomery said softly, smiling at Anubis for the briefest flash of a moment. “Thanks for remembering and … yeah, sour candy is good.” He took my hand in his and pulled me toward the screen door, past the three boys left on the porch and inside.

  “Sour candy, huh?” I asked as Montgomery guided us through the living room, into the study, and over to the large bathroom that seemed so out of place in such a small cabin. It'd been modified specifically for me and the boys. Now all the future generations that used the Pairing House would remember Zara Wolf and her seven mates.

  “I like the way it burns,” he told me as he twisted the knob for the hot water and then turned to glance over his shoulder. “But then it's sweet at the end. You know you shouldn't eat anymore because it'll hurt, but your mouth …” He looked right at mine when he said that. “It craves it. The saliva just … flows until everything's wet.”

  I stood there with my heart thundering in my chest, trying to decide if Montgomery was intentionally throwing innuendo my way, or if I were misreading him.

  “I know so little about you,” I told him, standing naked in the middle of a bathroom with a man I'd met only a week ago, but whose feelings and heart seemed to pound behind my rib cage in a thunderous rhythm. “How does Anubis know you like sour candy and I don't?”

  “He asked,” Montgomery said, turning and stepping backward into the shower until he was pressed against the tiled wall. Water ran in clear rivulets down his face, catching on his mouth, his jaw … and the hard length of his cock. He was definitely aroused. He hadn't been outside, but he was now.

  “How old are you?” I asked, because I didn't even know that much about the guys, their ages. Not that it really mattered. Werewolves viewed time differently than humans. We lived longer, but we also matured earlier.

  “Seventeen,” Montgomery said, which made me blink a few times in shock.

  “You're seventeen?” I asked, and he smiled. It wasn't quite a full smile, but at least it was somethi
ng.

  “Does that bother you? That I'm younger?”

  I took a few steps closer and climbed into the shower with him, reaching for a bottle of shampoo and lathering up my hands with it. I worked the suds into my scalp as I stared the Alpha Son of Pack Ivory Emerald down, hot water spattering my legs.

  “No.”

  “No?” he asked, tilting his head slightly to one side. He had the look of a knight, a warrior, the right hand of the queen. There was this trustworthy aura about him that I quite liked, especially after learning about Allister's betrayal.

  I'd known since age sixteen that Silas' dad was a monster; I guess I just hadn't realized the extent he'd go to to prove that.

  “Are you sure?” Montgomery asked, the sweet smell of cut grass and roses cutting through the light fragrance of my shampoo. As I stepped into the hot water, he reached out and curled his fingers around my wrists, pulling my hands away from my scalp. Without even touching my face, he somehow managed to get me to lift my chin up to his. “Human law says we shouldn't touch until I turn eighteen.”

  “It's your body,” I told him as he held my hands in place above my head and then gently but firmly pushed them into the wall behind me, pinning me there. “What do you think?”

  “You talked about basic needs on the porch,” he said, and I could see where this was going. He wanted to mate to forget, to release his tension and his rage. I was okay with that … just not yet. Not yet. With Montgomery, I wanted our first time to be something earned, something he craved, and not just something he gave into. I wanted him slow and rhythmic and attentive. “Was this what you meant?”

  He leaned down and pressed our mouths together, the hot slick of water between our lips adding an extra layer of sensation that thrilled me from my head down to my toes. I hadn't realized I was so cold before this moment—and not from the weather, surely, but the awful revelation that one of our own, a leader amongst our people, was at the root of their disappearances.