The Worth Series: Complete Collection

by Lyra Evans

  Connor closed the door behind them as they stepped inside, and Oliver immediately collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs. Connor followed suit, but only after opening the fridge and pouring out two tall glasses of water. He set one glass for Oli and downed the other in an instant. Oliver took his glass and drank deep, feeling the liquid seep into the tiny crevices of his body, lending him life.

  “First thing—we should get some re—” Oliver began, only to be cut off by a fluttering green bird by his ear. “Oh, for all the fucking dragons in hell—” He waved a hand at the bird.

  “Hope you got to the cabin safely! Mom sent word about what happened,” Rory’s voice chirped into Oliver’s ear. “This story is getting more and more insane with every passing hour. I swear, you can’t make this stuff up. I think I even smell a Pulling-Star prize in it, once I’ve written your exclusive. Anyway, High Warlock Carmichael has lost his bloody mind. Power’s gone to his head already. Maeve demanded a public apology for his behaviour and the unlawful invasion of her land and home by the Special Response Squad, and his public response was that all civil rights would be forfeit until they capture and kill the ‘traitors who assassinated a leader of the Three Courts and plunged us all into turmoil.’ So, best keep a watch on yourselves, guys. And he’s been banning reporters left, right, and centre when they ask him what he calls ‘disagreeable and dishonourable questions.’ Basically, anything that implies his actions or ordinances aren’t legal or within his authority. So I got the hell out of there, because it turns out, I have a much better place to be.

  “Carmichael keeps fear-mongering about the Werewolf Court and their inability to choose an Alpha, so he’s given them an ultimatum. No joke. He said if they haven’t appointed a suitable Alpha by morning, he would have no choice but to seize control of the entire Court by force. ‘For the good and safety of the Three Courts.’ This is really happening. He’s threatened occupation if they can’t pick an Alpha. I don’t know what he means by ‘suitable,’ but this could be the end of the Treaty. And peace.

  “And now the Werewolf Court is in chaos—I’m almost there. If you’re at the cabin, you can join me. There’s a small room hidden behind the fireplace that’s connected to the VR room at my parents’ place. I used it for—reasons. But the point is you can be present with me to witness what’s going down. Just do the same thing you did back at my place. Hurry!”

  His chest heaving, his mind barely collating the facts Rory had delivered, Oliver forced himself to his feet and searched the cupboards. Eventually locating what he was after, he pulled the bottle of pixie powder from the cabinet and picked two cans of soda from the refrigerator. Placing both cans on the counter, Oliver cracked them open and poured out heaping servings of pixie powder into the drinks. Then he walked over to Connor, handing him one of the cans.

  “Isn’t this what college kids use to stay awake all week for exams?” Connor asked, staring warily at the can.

  “Yep,” Oliver said, knocking back the soda and pixie powder. He chugged as much of it as the carbonated beverage would allow, then paused, burped, took a deep breath, and chugged the rest. “We’re gonna need it.”

  Connor eyed him another moment, then did the same, throwing back the soda. After a moment, Oliver began to feel the pixie powder, caffeine, and sugar take effect As though he was lifted on a cloud of tiny, luminescent bubbles, Oliver felt himself becoming more alert. The pixie dust filtered into his brain, shining light in all the dark corners of his mind. His entire body thrummed with energy, as though he’d been struck by lightning and was barely containing it beneath his skin. His teeth chattered, his eyes wide, his hands shaking, and Oliver had to get it out.

  He jumped up and down several times, shaking himself and jogging as though he was prepping for a marathon. Connor soon followed suit, losing control of his Wolf every so often. Oliver would gaze in wonder and horror as Connor’s head morphed back and forth from a white Wolf to his gorgeous face. He dropped to all fours, allowing the full transformation to happen, then ran around the small cabin, hopping over furniture as he did, panting like an excited puppy.

  It took five minutes of intense action for the pixie powder to settle into their system and even out, and even then, Oliver was left with an erection so hard it was painful. Once Connor transformed back to his Human form, Oliver saw his lover was in much the same situation. Licking his lips, Oliver felt an almost undeniable urge to drop to his knees and strip Connor bare, taking his cock into Oliver’s mouth. By the hungry look in Connor’s eyes, he was experiencing a similar urge.

  “Can’t,” Oliver said, taking every ounce of his discipline to do so. “We’ve got to see what Rory’s seeing.”

  With a groan he couldn’t control, Connor threw his head back, then gathered himself and nodded. The alarm in his expression was something Oliver understood. The pixie powder made prioritizing their lives and stopping the High Warlock from succeeding in his plans very difficult.

  But somehow, Oliver forced himself to turn to the fireplace and searched around the edge for some way to open it. Finding a tiny latch hidden behind a slightly outcropped stone, he flipped it, and a narrow doorway opened up. But instead of entering the VR room, the cabin seemed to shrink away, leaving only a darkened space around them.

  Oliver glanced at Connor, then pressed the earring in his own ear and hooked in to Rory’s broadcast.

  Suddenly, the black room flicked to life, and Oli and Connor were surrounded by the entirety of the Werewolf Court, arranged in packs behind their Alphas, with a handful of Wolves standing in the centre. They were at the base of Mount Razortooth, at the very same place Oliver and Connor had begun their bonding ceremony. There was a pang of regret in Oliver’s belly, but he pushed it aside to listen to what was happening.

  “We need to choose an Alpha whether you like it or not, Lane!” Nadia was saying, teeth bared, a maw of razor fangs, as she faced down Lane Irons, Alpha in his own right.

  “Why? Because some bigoted Ape told us to?” he growled. “Let him and his army come with their magic tricks and their silver bullets. We’ll take them all on, if we have to. I will not support any Alpha that stands before Logan’s murderer is found and Connor returned to claim his rightful place with Oliver!”

  Chest swelling with gratitude, Oliver watched Lane make his proclamation, and his entire pack rallied behind him with a cry of support.

  “The NCPD believe Connor is Logan’s murderer!” Nadia said, arms crossed over her chest. “All the evidence points to him. Would you still have him stand for Alpha knowing that?”

  “You know nothing,” Donna said, stepping forward. About half of Connor’s pack stood behind her, alongside Lane’s pack, supporting Donna. “You would take the word of Wizards who intend to occupy our ancient land? Who would oppress us in our sacred wood? They are lies! All of them! Connor would never betray Logan. He loved him!”

  “And what of the evidence our Wolves collected?” Nadia asked, chin held up defiantly. Donna shot her a withering stare, but Nadia did not flinch. Oliver thought she was either much braver than he thought, or much stupider. “Our own Wolves searched the crime scene and followed the killer’s scent—Connor’s scent—back to his manor. Or do you not trust your own kin?” Nadia paused. “Or, perhaps you insist Connor must be Alpha because you were involved in this treachery!”

  A chill spread across the gathered Wolves, and Connor, invisible, insubstantial to anyone but Oli, lunged forward, his teeth gritted, his fists balled.

  “How dare you,” Donna said, her voice a harsh breath over a foggy moor. “How dare you lob such filthy accusations at me, at your own Alpha! Connor and I have never been anything but loyal to Logan and to our pack.”

  “And yet Connor fled,” Nadia said, acid in her voice. “With his Ape consort. And you stand here defending him while only half your pack stands behind you. The others stand by me. They’ve seen the truth in Connor’s actions, his treachery. First with the Ape consort, then with Logan!”

&nbs
p; “Oliver has done more for our Court than you could ever dream of,” Lane said, stepping forward again. The silver bird skull pendant around his neck glinted in the low light. “Even a Wizard has more Alpha in him than you do. Our pack will never follow you!”

  “We will never find unity with so many warring beliefs, so much embittered opposition,” Kyrie, tall, blonde, and Alpha of one of the smaller packs in the Werewolf Court, said. “Whether Connor is or is not guilty is irrelevant in your claim to Alpha, Nadia. You do not have the support, nor the experience to stand for Alpha.”

  Nadia held her head high, her shoulders square, and Oliver felt a growing shadow weighing in his chest. “I do not present my own candidacy for Alpha.”

  Lane rolled his eyes. “Then who do you propose?”

  “Someone who has just as much right to the claim as Connor, and more experience with his ruthlessness,” Nadia said.

  Donna and Lane looked sceptically at Nadia, the incredulity written plainly on their faces.

  “No one has as much claim as Connor,” Donna said. “Who could you possibly think—”

  “She means me,” a voice said. It was rough, gravelly, as though it had become dull from disuse. Something about the timbre of it was familiar to Oliver, but he couldn’t place why. “After all, I know better than most how dangerous Connor’s ambition can be. Logan isn’t the first one he’s hurt on his quest to be Alpha. Just look at what he did to me.”

  A woman stepped forth, tall and rough with muscle. Her hair was cut short, and her hairline zigzagged far back on her skull as a result of the thick web of grizzly scars across half her face. With her piercing blue eyes and white-blond locks, she could only be one person. Kayla Pierce, Connor’s twin sister.

  Chapter 23

  For a while, nothing moved. Noise was a distant concept, existing only in the past, in the time Before. Silence blanketed the world. Or so it seemed to Oli. No one breathed or thought or blinked as they stared at the incomprehensible vision before them. Oli watched it all, even himself as if from afar, standing dumb and invisible amid the packs of the Werewolf Court, witnessing a resurrection.

  “Kayla?” Donna said, after several false starts. The single word broke the silence and allowed the flood of noise back in, and so in it rushed. In a moment, Oliver could hear everything again—the forest, the trees rustling in the wind, the crickets and cicadas buzzing, the slight shift of every Wolf on the ground as they fought between standing in reference and incredulity at the impossible. Oliver heard every breath, every heartbeat, every whispered rumour travelling over the crowd. Several times, Donna opened her mouth, trying to force out one word or another, until finally she settled on, “How?”

  Kayla stepped down from her elevated position, emerging more fully into the light and the view of the packs. As she grew closer, Oliver shivered. The sight of her, the details intensifying, crisper in the light, was something to behold. The scarring that marred her face was rough and uneven, and her facial expressions suffered for it. When she opened her mouth, it pulled at the edges of the scar tissue, forcing part of her face to shift as though it were poorly made of plastic. The hair on the scarred side of her head didn’t grow through the scarring and what Oliver could now tell were burns. It spread beyond her ear, engulfing the shell of it and spidered out to the nape of her neck. The marks were angry and red, glistening in the low light as thought wet. Long-since healed, they had closed badly, possibly split open again and again due to positioning.

  “Hello, Donna,” Kayla said, her voice eerily similar to Connor’s when she spoke Donna’s name. There was a curiosity of inflection they shared, one Oliver could never match when he tried to imitate Connor. Something of the blood shared between them, perhaps, or the nurturing of their parents. Oliver shivered again, his eyes unable to draw away from Kayla. “I imagine that’s a question everyone wants an answer to.” She stopped in the centre of the clearing, between Donna, Lane, and Nadia. Every face in the crowd was turned to her, hanging on her every word. And she held herself tall.

  “For those of you that don’t know,” she began, “my name is Kayla Pierce. I am Connor Pierce’s twin sister.” A hush of muted shock passed over the crowd as the handful of Wolves on the outskirts of the political machinations of Werewolf Court cued in to the story. “And no, I am not dead.” A small chuckle escaped the group behind Nadia, the Wolves who’d allied themselves against Connor. “Though for many years my brother apparently convinced you all I was.”

  “Connor convinced us of nothing,” Donna said, the trance of Kayla’s shocking revelation having broken. “We saw the campsite. We investigated. We searched for you. You were nowhere to be found, and your parents were dead. There was blood, Kayla. Lots of your blood. We had no reason to assume you’d survived when your parents had not.”

  Kayla shot Donna a silencing look, and Donna fell quiet. She seemed almost as surprised at her own compliance as Oliver was. Kayla, meanwhile, seemed to be accustomed to people obeying her and brushed off the interruption.

  “On a fateful night, many years ago, I sat with my parents around a campfire, roasting sausages for dinner, marshmallows for dessert,” she said, making a slow turn of the clearing. “The sky was ever darkening and a chill hung over the campsite. Connor had thrown a small fit earlier in the day, and he had run off into the jungle-forest. Now that it was late, the sun set and the Moon on full rise, my parents grew concerned. Connor was young, still, and his not having returned seemed potentially dangerous. Had he wandered too far and gotten lost, unable to find a scent to lead him back? Had he gotten too arrogant in his adventure and climbed too far up, or too low? Had he fallen and knocked himself out, lying unconscious in the woods for any manner of dangerous creature to come upon?” Kayla sighed heavily. “The possibilities were numerous and most without happy ending. So my parents set out to search for him. For hours they were gone, with me sitting by the fire, stoking the coals and the tinder, working to keep it alight.

  “When they returned, they had no Connor in their arms, no sign of him at all. Part of me believed he would pop up from around a tree at any moment, laughing to himself about how he’d gotten one over on us all, how incredibly scared we’d been. But every moment he didn’t return, bearing his all-too-common smirk and a mischief in his eyes that couldn’t be tamed, I worried more. I felt in my heart he was alive, but I’m not sure how. And it was hardly great use to me, being unable to track him myself.

  My parents ushered me to bed, gathering me in and cradling me as they had not done since childhood. I knew the signs of their worry, the marks of their concern. My mother’s eyebrows would crease in the centre, just above her nose, and her lips would disappear, one at a time, as she sucked them into her mouth to nibble on. My father, meanwhile, would pace or move. He’d jerk his leg, or wipe endlessly at clean dishes or stoke the fire needlessly and proclaim he’d go to collect more firewood for the ever-growing pile.

  I turned over in my sleeping bag, heart beating irregularly, every thump mistaken for a footstep in my frazzled mind. I barely slept, and when I did, I was plagued by nightmares of finding Connor—bruised, bloodied, broken. Then, a few hours later, I woke with a start, not knowing how it was I fell asleep. I thought it might be morning, but the sky was still navy when I unzipped the tent to peek outside. Still, in the darkness, something was moving.

  There was only a shuffle of leaves and branches at first, sounds a small animal might make. But then came a larger crack, a branch snapping beneath the weight of something bigger. Something, possibly, humanoid. I thought it was Connor. So I rushed out.”

  This part of the story was what most people knew. They knew what it was Kayla would find in the darkness, what had come to visit her family’s campsite that night. The gasps and held breath pulled the tension around the clearing to breaking, and Kayla seemed to know it, her shrewd eyes travelling quickly over the faces of her audience.

  “It took me too long to realize how wrong I was,” she said, her words shaded with lay
ers of regret. “I was young and stupid and didn’t trust my nose nearly as much as I should have. I knew the smell was wrong; I knew that it couldn’t be Connor. But I ran out anyway. And I was greeted by fire and teeth.

  “The dragon was not humanoid, not even close. Its body was the height of the trees and the width of two cars. I first saw the scales, thick and massive, the size of dinner plates, and a matte red colour. They reflected no light, which is how it managed to go undetected for so long. Long, gnarled, batwings emerged out of the creature’s back, unfurling and slapping on the wind. Its teeth were long as my arm and sharper than any Wolf’s claw, and its eyes shone in the unnerving yellow of a poisonous goo. “ She shook, momentarily disgusted at the thought she was describing, and lowered her head.

  “I screamed,” she said. “I screamed in panic, unable to do much else but that and run. Immediately, my parents’ came to my aid, though it would do little good. The dragon noticed me first, obviously, and tossed its elk aside for a different sort of prey. I screamed again and ran, trying to zigzag and throw it off my trail. Only the dragon was much larger than I was and much smarter. It uncoiled its long tail and leaned down, opening its maw of sharp fangs wide.

  “In an instant, it blew out a hurricane of fire, scorching the land beneath my feet and everything on the campsite. In the din, I heard my mother urging me to leave, to run away, to get away. So I did.

  “I reached out to my father, hoping to pull him to safety too, but I caught only his arm—already detached and charred to the point of no recognition. Screaming again, I threw myself toward the river, desperate for a route to escape. Before I could make it to the edge of the campsite and to freedom, the dragon grew frustrated and bored, standing on its hind legs and swiping viciously at the ground. He caught me,” she said, pointing to her face, “on one side. I’ve never regained feeling in that side.” She shrugged.