Alice was the missing part of his soul.
His other half.
His mate.
And nothing, no rules or traditions, or summoned spirit, would keep them apart.
ALICE STRETCHED ON the couch, tucked a worn pillow under her head, and drew the quilt over her body. She stared at the flickering flames, watching them dance as the wood crackled. She drowsed there, her eyelids eventually drifting closed.
She slept deeply, dreaming of her husband, of the baby they would never have, when the child started wailing.
The wailing turned into screaming—inhuman sounds she’d never heard before.
Alice jolted awake.
The lamp on the nightstand glowed brightly, but the fire had burned down to embers. Reluctantly slipping out from the warm quilt, she padded to the picture window next to the front door—the only window in the whole cabin. She flipped on the porch light and stared out in the darkness.
All she could make out from the gray mass of falling ice and snow was the spindly shapes of trees. Everything else, including the lake, was lost in the dark and the storm.
Was the Kunda out there?
Would it come for her now?
Her heart jumped into her throat, and she backed away from the window. Coward. She was such a fucking coward. She hadn’t been when she’d first called the deity, but she hadn’t realized how much it would hurt to be without Jonas.
Cords of wood were stacked next to the fireplace along with a pile of newspapers. A box of extra-long matches rested on the mantle. With all the tools at her disposal, Alice had a new fire going in no time.
She wished the window had curtains or blinds for privacy. Most people probably liked the view, but she wanted to feel covered. Protected. Watching the snowstorm encapsulate the cabin was like watching gravediggers bury her coffin.
A loud, fearsome roar echoed.
Alice froze.
Her werewolf instincts kicked in, and she whirled toward the front door, throwing it open to sniff at the wind.
The rusty scent of blood, and the sickening stench of death overwhelmed her.
The Kunda.
Even prepared, she couldn’t hold back a gasp as a tall, gaunt creature emerged from the tree line. Its gray skin hung in tatters off blackened bones. Its eyes were desiccated hollows, and its mouth a ragged gap filled with sharp, gray teeth. The old rusted scent of blood clung to its awful form.
The blood of other sacrifices.
Alice fought to catch her breath.
Shit, shit, shit!
I don’t want to die.
“I changed my mind,” she screamed into the wind and felt shamed by her lack of conviction. She’d called the Kunda with purpose, and now she experienced the spiritual equivalent of “buyer’s remorse.”
The Kunda rose to its full height, lifted its head, and emitted a blood-curdling scream that matched her own cry of denial.
She hurried to the bed where she’d shed her winter clothes earlier. She threw on a sweater, thick socks, and boots, but the heavy thud in her belly told her it was too late. Next, she shoved on her coat and pulled up its hood. Finally, she pushed her trembling hands into fitted gloves.
Why hadn’t it come for her already? Why was it waiting? Why wasn’t it busting down the door or crashing through the window?
Alice hurried back to the door and opened it again.
The Kunda was gone.
She wasn’t ready.
The SUV’s keys were in her pocket. She could drive some more, and try to prepare herself for the inevitable end.
She knew she was stalling.
She wondered how many people had regretted invoking the Kunda when the time came to hand over their lives. Then she remembered that it was very rare for one to call the Kunda for oneself. In most cases, the pack called on the Kunda only when a pack member warranted the spirit’s brand of justice. The Kunda in return granted power to the pack. But those instances were just as rare as suicide by Kunda. Werewolves did not often (as in, ever) choose suicide. Killing yourself was considered a cowardly act. At least if you invoked the Kunda you died for the pack instead of just for yourself.
The biting wind and freezing snow battered her. She shut the door behind her and hurried off the porch. She sank to her knees. Damn. The snow was already a foot deep.
As she slogged her way toward the car, she realized, with a sinking feeling, that her car was buried in snow. The road was buried, too.
She glanced toward the cabin where the honeymooning elderly couple was no doubt resting peacefully. Their cabin was higher on the ridge. Maybe their vehicle wasn’t snowed in. Alice didn’t want to add “car thief” to her growing pile of sins, but she couldn’t stay here.
How the hell was she going to get out of this mess?
She entered the thickest part of the forest that stood between her cabin and the Gilmores’, and trudged onward. She kept her gaze focused on their tiny yellow porch light.
Her jeans got soaked and snow wiggled into her boots and made her socks cold and squishy. Her heart raced and sweat dotted her brow. Vaguely she recalled that sweating in freezing weather was a bad sign. She’d overexerted herself, and she could get hypothermia if she didn’t get into a warm environment and out of her wet things.
She reached the top of the slope and looked down at the cabin. She rested against the nearest tree and tried to even out her breathing. Other than the porch light, the cabin was dark.
No car.
Only pristine white from the forest to the Gilmore’s cabin. No road access there either.
Damn it.
Her human form did not enjoy the cold. She’d been a fool to venture out into the snowstorm. She turned around and headed down the slope toward her cabin. She couldn’t see anything in the cursed whiteout, and it seemed her coat snagged on every tree or bush she passed. The wind howled so fiercely it chilled her to the bones.
The wind… or the Kunda?
As she stumbled out of the tree line, she whirled around and saw the gaunt gray figure stalking her through the trees.
“Stop!” Alice screamed. “I changed my mind.”
You cannot.
The voice, both male and female, was calm. Colder than the snow, it echoed inside her mind.
“I don’t want to die,” she whispered.
You will die anyway. Honor the pack, little werewolf. Die well.
Alice’s tears fell. The Kunda was right. She had invoked the protector spirit. Her death ensured the future of her husband. Of the Fire Pack.
The creature stalked closer, slow and methodical, its eyeless gaze on her.
I love you, Jonas. I love you.
She felt arms on her shoulders, and then she was yanked backwards into the solid chest of a man who wrapped his muscled arms around her waist. He scooped her up and ran into the cabin, his long legs and strong body unimpeded by the snow.
Once inside, he put her down, slamming the door and locking it behind them.
“That’s not going to do much good,” she said soberly. She went to the end of the couch and pushed it toward the door for a barricade.
“It’s all we got, sweetheart.” The white ski mask covering his face muffled his voice, and his eyes were hidden behind goggles.
But she’d known who it was the moment he’d put his arms around her.
Jonas.
He grabbed the other end of the sofa, and together, they pushed it against the door. “That window’s a big problem.”
“Maybe we could rip off the closet and bathroom doors and nail them across.”
“Glass and wood won’t stop him.” He looked out the window. “Where did he go?”
She swallowed heavily. “I… don’t know.”
The Kunda had disappeared before. Was it even real?
Make the alpha leave.
The Kunda’s male-female voice echoed into her head, its demand fierce. Oh, it was real, all right. And it was apparently irritated that Jonas had shown up and run off with its
sacrifice.
Have you met my husband? she thought back at the creature. I can’t make him do anything. Why do you think I invoked you?
If he offers himself as sacrifice, I must take him.
I get it. If he’s here, he dies with me.
We have an understanding. I will return, little werewolf.
I will be here.
She felt the Kunda’s approval, and it was a strange sensation, as though he’d rewarded her with a gold star for choosing death. Now, it was courage she needed. That’s what the Kunda expected. For her to act like a werewolf.
“Alice?” Her husband had gripped her shoulders and was lightly shaking her.
She blinked and stared up at him. “The Kunda is gone. It wants to protect you. So it left.” She moved away from his embrace and felt his eyes on her as she took off the gloves and rubbed her ice-cold hands together. God, she was freezing. Her whole body shivered, and her teeth chattered. As she shucked off her coat and boots, she studied Jonas. His entire body was encased in white and gray camouflage—even his snow boots were white. She briefly wondered at the duffel bag slung over his shoulder.
“You talk to it?” He pushed back the hood and removed the goggles. The white ski mask came off, revealing the short black hair, chiseled good looks, and gleaming green eyes of her husband.
“It projects its voice into my head.”
“If the Kunda stays away because I’m here, then you’ll be safe as long as I’m with you.”
Stubborn man. The Kunda would lose patience with her husband. She’d felt the Kunda’s reluctance to kill her mate, but it might decide that Jonas was no longer good for the pack. Especially with his single-minded devotion to her.
Pack before blood. Pack before love. Pack before all.
It was the Fire Pack oath, and Jonas seemed to have forgotten it.
He stared at her. “Why did you do it?”
“You know why.” Alice sat on the couch and tugged off her socks. She couldn’t stop shivering. Not all of it had to do with being cold. How could she get Jonas to leave? How could she make him stop looking as though he couldn’t decide whether to hug her or strangle her?
Her life was forfeit. She knew that. Without the threat of imminent death, she was acutely ashamed of her weakness. If she’d wanted another way, she shouldn’t have invoked the pack’s protector.
He took off his coat and draped it over the back of the couch with a casualness that belied the fury in his eyes. Well, what had she expected? He wasn’t going to thank her for leaving him, even if it was to save their pack and to make sure his line survived intact. He glared at her, arms crossed. He was probably counting all the reasons why he shouldn’t kill her himself. But she knew his anger was rooted in his fear, his love.
“I must honor my pact with the Kunda. I’d prefer it if you weren’t here.”
“Too bad. I won’t live without you, Alice.” He strode to her and yanked her up by the arms. “You’re worth more to me,” he said through gritted teeth. “More than my blood line. More than my own life.”
“You are worth a hundred of me!” she shouted. “You are the alpha. The pack needs you.”
“The pack needs you, too. I need you.” He let go of her arms and stepped back. She saw his vulnerability then. “You are my strength, Alice. My heart. If I cannot have you, I will have no one. There is only one mate for me. You.”
She understood now. Even if she let the Kunda take her, even if she sacrificed herself, he would not take another mate.
“When the pack finds out I’m barren, you’ll be challenged. My family will be tormented, too, for my weakness. My flaw.” She sat down heavily on the couch. “If they had left me in the woods as a pup—”
“You would’ve lived. You are too stubborn, too fierce, Alice. Your soul is like fire. And I need that. I need you.” His voice broke. He sucked in a breath. “I’m a better alpha with you, and the pack knows that. We are the strongest together. You bring balance to the pack—and to me.”
That’s what he’d been telling her, showing her, and she’d been in too much pain, too afraid to understand the words, the actions. She and Jonas were two halves of a whole. He needed her as much as she needed him. Beyond everything—carrying on Jonas’s line, saving the pack—not wanting to be without him had driven her to desperation. To madness. She hadn’t considered that he wouldn’t want to live without her, either.
“You’re shaking so hard I can hear your teeth chattering.”
Alice blinked up at Jonas. Her cold, snow-soaked clothes had chilled her to the bone.
He offered his hand, and she took it. He pulled her to her feet. “C’mon, let’s get you undressed.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.”
“Every time I get near you, I want you naked,” he said, but his tone was so grumpy he seemed more resentful than enamored. But hell, did she blame him? “I’ll run you a hot bath.” He waited until she looked at him again. He held her gaze, and she saw his pain, his fear, his anger. “Then we’ll talk.”
About the Author
Michele Bardsley is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of paranormal romance. When she’s not writing sexy tales of otherworldly love, she watches “Supernatural,” consumes chocolate, crochets hats, reads books, and spends time with her husband and their fur babies.
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Copyright © 2016 by Michele Bardsley
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement from the author of this work.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatever to anyone bearing the same name or names. All incidents are pure invention. This story is meant for mature audiences who are eighteen years and older.
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The Pack Rules Boxed Set: The Complete Series of Wolf, Bear, and Dragon Shifter Romances Page 59
