by Callie Rose
Ridge grunts, and I’m not sure if the sound is meant to be a thank you or one of irritation. They’re such old friends that they have a sort of shorthand communication, and I haven’t learned how to interpret all of it yet. He bypasses the couch, and Amora, heading for the back of the house.
She looks at me and raises a dark eyebrow, but I just shrug and lead the way after the alpha.
Amora grabs the blanket off the back of the couch and tosses it around my shoulders, then squeezes me in a side-hug as she falls into step beside me. “How you doin’, Sable? You okay?”
I tug the edges of the blankets closed around my naked torso, touched by her thoughtfulness. She remembered without prompting how uncomfortable I feel naked. Most shifters don’t really give nudity a second thought, since stripping down naked is usually a precursor to transitioning to wolf form.
“Scared and tired,” I tell her honestly with a wan smile. “We didn’t exactly uncover nice things at my uncle’s house.”
She presses her forehead to my temple and guides me after Ridge. “Well, just remember you’re not alone.”
Amora splits off to head into the kitchen as I step into the bedroom with the guys. We all dress quickly, throwing on whatever we can find. I glance longingly at the bed as we all troop out of the room again.
Ridge grabs a bottle of amber liquid off the top of the fridge as we enter his small but serviceable kitchen. I catch sight of a familiar black label—a popular but cheap brand of whiskey my uncle liked. I help Ridge gather glasses, one for everybody, as the rest of our group chooses seats at the table.
I hold out my glass as Ridge tips the bottle over it, whiskey sloshing into the cup and casting yellow shards of light on the table beneath the overhead lamp. As he moves on to serve the rest of the group, I sniff experimentally at the glass. I’ve never had whiskey before—never even wanted to try it. But it smells strong, and I could use a little fortifying after the night’s events, so I take a sip. It burns on the way down and makes my eyes water, but I don’t hate the taste.
I just hate the memories it calls to my mind. All the nights my uncle got whiskey drunk and hurt me or made messes he expected me to clean up. The scent and taste recall each memory so vividly that it makes my heart hurt and my pulse race. I drink more, ignoring both the memories and the way it burns. Maybe a couple more glasses will help chase away the ghosts.
Ridge finally collapses into a chair and takes a swig of whiskey before he looks at Amora and says, “Are you really here because you were worried about us, or because you have more intel?”
She makes a face and sets her glass down on the tabletop. “Both. You know how fast rumors spread among wolves. I have it on good authority that word of your unique… situation has spread to the other packs.”
“Sable’s condition too?” Archer asks.
Condition.
The word stings, even though I know he didn’t mean anything hurtful by it. But it makes me feel like I’ve got some kind of terminal illness, the kind of thing you want to hide from strangers so they won’t treat you differently. I mask the rising nausea in my stomach with another, longer drink from my glass.
Amora nods. “Her powers. Your unorthodox mating bond. All of it.”
“Lawson’s flunkies,” Trystan snarls. “They told the other packs on purpose.”
I’m inclined to agree with him. Lawson, Ridge’s brother, attempted to incite a rebellion among the pack and take the alpha position from Ridge. But he lost that challenge and ended up languishing in a cell to wait for a trial by council. If anyone traveled to the other packs to spread the word, it was definitely one of Lawson’s followers.
Ridge sighs. “Fucking hell. I’ll be cleaning up the hate and unrest he sowed for months.”
Amora reaches out to touch his shoulder. “Hey. I’ve got your back. We all do. Lawson can be a smooth talker when he wants to be, and he convinced a few hotheads with too much fucking testosterone to join him, that’s all. None of them were on his side with any conviction, and now that he’s lost his challenge, they’ll calm down.”
I look at her long, elegant fingers resting on Ridge’s strong shoulder, and I expect to feel a surge of jealousy. That’s the normal reaction I’d imagine a woman might have when another strikingly beautiful girl is touching her man. Instead, I feel a strong surge of affection for Amora.
She operates like a second-in-command for Ridge, and their history means they work well together and carry a deep-seated love for one another. The kind of trust they share is something money can’t buy, and it’s definitely something every leader should have in a lieutenant.
Now that the mate bond between Ridge and myself is solidified, any trace of jealousy I might have felt before is gone. Amora and Ridge weren’t ever meant to be together in a romantic way. I was meant for him. Meant to be his mate, his lover, his confidant. Amora and he have a close connection, but I know it will never rival what he and I share.
The mate bond felt big and frightening before it finally happened. But now that it has, it’s a huge relief. I’m so sure of the bond between me and my men. More sure of it than anything I’ve ever known in my life.
“So what happened out there?” Amora asks, and I’m surprised to find she’s addressing me.
I glance around at the men, but Archer gives me a nod of encouragement. I launch into an explanation of how we went to the small town where I grew up and found that Uncle Clint wasn’t home. So we tracked him to a nearby bar and waited for him to emerge, then followed him as he walked toward his house. But once we turned off the main road and onto the long driveway that led through trees back to his house, he whirled around and launched an attack, trying to take us out by magic.
Unluckily for him, my mates aren’t so easily fooled. I tell Amora how they fought back and managed to subdue him, pinning him down so we could question him. But when it comes time to reveal what he said about me, I can’t form the words.
Archer takes over the narrative. “It turns out, Sable’s uncle isn’t really her blood relative. He somehow convinced or forced a witch and a shifter to mate, and Sable was the result.”
“Holy shit. So you really are half wolf, half witch. That’s crazy,” Amora says, shaking her head in amazement. “Did he say why he did it? Why he wanted to create you?”
I open my mouth and then immediately close it. Should I tell Amora he meant me to be a weapon against the shifters?
But Ridge cuts in before I have to make that choice. “We aren’t certain, though I’m fucking sure it wasn’t for anything good. He attacked us again, trying to break free, and was killed in the fight before we could get more information.”
That’s not a lie, really. It stands to reason any witch who experimented with a half-shifter, half-witch baby wasn’t doing it for benevolent reasons. But the way Ridge glossed over the truth sends a pang through me. Does he have the same worries I do? About my witch having a mind of her own?
What if I really am the enemy?
Archer speaks up. “He did mention that there’s someone out there who might cause problems for Sable, should she find her. I’m assuming he was talking about another witch, someone he might have worked with or known previously. He didn’t seem to be part of a coven, but that doesn’t mean he’s always been on his own.”
“Damn,” Amora says quietly, then reaches out to take my hand. “That’s some heavy shit, girl. But don’t feel bad or feel alone, and definitely don’t try to shoulder this burden alone, okay? You’ve got four strapping men at your back. And me too.”
I squeeze her fingers and give her my best smile, which is kind of a lame one at this point. Despite my worries, I’m thankful to Amora. She’s the first true female friend I’ve ever had, and the easy way she shows affection makes up for my own awkwardness. Plus, her confident, no-nonsense presence is a nice balance to all the testosterone.
We discuss things for a while longer as we finish our drinks, but there aren’t any more answers to be wrung out from the nigh
t’s events. Eventually, Amora stands and stretches, then carries her empty glass to the sink.
“I’ll do whatever I can to help you get the packs on board with the situation,” she says as Ridge and I walk her to the door. “Just say the word.”
“I appreciate that.” Ridge dips his chin in a nod.
“Me too. Truly,” I add, swaying on my feet slightly. It’s a little from the whiskey, and a lot from the exhaustion.
Ridge notices the movement and slips his arm around my waist. “Amora, I’ll talk to you tomorrow, yeah?”
“You got it.” Amora kisses my cheek and then disappears into the night.
He bolts the door behind her, then turns and sweeps me up into his arms in a fireman’s carry. “Come on, little wolf. You’re dead on your feet.”
I lay my head on his shoulder and close my eyes, breathing in his intoxicating scent. We’re joined at the bedroom door by the rest of my mates, and then as one, we crawl into Ridge’s bed without even discussing our sleeping arrangements.
There’s nothing to discuss. I’m sure they feel exactly as I do—that sleep won’t come unless I can feel all four of them touching me.
Ridge curls around my back, and Trystan slides in on the other side, his face resting against my stomach. Dare spoons up behind him, and he presses his forehead to mine, passing out almost instantly, while Archer curls up against my legs. It’s a strange sort of arrangement, and it reminds me of the way we might all sleep together in wolf form, bodies all curled around each other’s in a messy pile. But it’s perfect.
Cocooned in the safety and warmth of my mates, I finally sleep.
3
Ridge
I open my eyes to the thick darkness of night, but I can sense the sun over the horizon. My wolf recognizes that electrified feeling in the air that means the start of a new day is just around the corner. In the past, if I woke up this early, I might shift and race into the wilderness, relishing the air in my lungs and the power in my legs. I might watch the sun rise over the mountains, taking in the beauty of the Montana wilderness around me.
But getting out of bed now would mean leaving Sable.
She’s lying on my arm, her golden hair spread over my skin and her breathing deep and even. Her face is turned a little away from me, so I roll slowly onto my side to get a better view of her, pausing as I catch Archer’s shoulder with my knee. But he only sighs in his sleep and rests his head against Sable’s bare legs without waking up.
Glad he can fucking sleep, I think, brushing Sable’s hair away from her face so I can see the long, pale line of her neck.
Her head is lolled back over my arm, putting her heart-shaped jawline on display. I have the strong urge to press my lips to the space beneath her ear—to trail my tongue down her throat, over the shallow valleys and curves of her collarbones, all the way to the soft mounds of her breasts, until she wakes up. But I do none of those things, against the better judgment of my cock, which stirs between my legs.
Instead, I just watch her sleep.
I haven’t been able to do anything but doze off and on throughout the night; my mind keeps churning over everything that’s happened. First, my brother challenging me to a duel for the alpha. Then Sable’s witch magic causing a near riot among my pack. Even our trip to her hometown didn’t give us any good answers.
I’m glad that monster is dead though. Her “uncle.” Tearing into that man’s carotid was the best decision Trystan ever made.
And he’s clearly not losing any sleep over it either. His face is resting against Sable’s hip, and his legs are tangled in Archer’s. Dare’s arm is across Sable’s waist, and his fingers are resting against me, so that we’re all touching, forming a circle around our mate.
It’s a tight fit, all five of us in this bed, but it feels right. I don’t mind Dare’s hand on me, and I don’t mind the way Archer is sandwiched between me and Sable. Not that I ever thought I’d be sharing a bed with three other men, but with Sable at the center, it makes sense. The mate bond declares that we all belong with her, which means we all belong together, come what may. The other men and I aren’t bonded like mates to each other—not like we are to Sable—but it’s a bond, nonetheless.
We’re a unit.
A family, really.
Not gonna lie—I’m all right replacing my piece of shit brother with these guys. The few weeks we’ve spent together have made me come to like them as people, more than I ever did before. Even before Lawson fucked me over, Dare, Trystan, and Archer had started to feel like my brothers. Real brothers, the kind that have each other’s backs.
Strange fucking feeling, man.
Sable mutters in her sleep, and I look down at her as she turns her head and nuzzles into my arm. I smile and fight the urge to touch her face, but the grin falls quickly from my face when blackness crawls across her skin.
My pulse jumps, and I almost pull away. It takes every last bit of my willpower to remain where I am, my arm still tucked beneath her face as that magic snakes over her pale flesh.
Those little signs of the witch inside her almost repulse me, and I know it’s because I’ve been programmed to hate witches. But this isn’t just any witch. This is Sable. My mate. So I shove aside the discomfort and reach out to rub my hand up and down her arm. Slowly. Tenderly, as if I’m attempting to soothe the witch away. Still lost in sleep, she mutters something else under her breath. I can’t make out the words, but eventually the black magic fades.
I lie beside her for a little while longer, watching her chest rise and fall with her breaths. The magic doesn’t come back. She’s sleeping peacefully. Fuck, I would too if the man who tormented me my whole life was finally dead and gone. I hope she’s having good dreams, her mind finally able to rest after all those years.
There’s not a chance in hell I’m falling back to sleep at this point. Not with my head in turmoil and those black marks on her skin haunting me every time I close my eyes. I extract my arm from beneath her, thankful that Dare still has her cocooned in his embrace. At my absence, she rolls over, and Trystan flings his arm around her hips until she’s encased between the two of them. They’ll keep watch over her.
That’s another thing I have to get used to, I remind myself as I grab a t-shirt from the dresser in the dark. I tug it on over my head and root around for a pair of pants. There are four men dedicated to keeping her safe now.
Instead of feeling like I’m in some kind of competition with them, I like it. There’s a constant urge inside me to protect my mate, to watch over her, and even though I realize I can’t be with her every second of every day, it’s good to know she’ll be safe while I’m gone.
That there are three other men who would do anything to keep her safe.
I leave through the front door, pausing on the front stoop to suck in a deep lungful of cool mountain air. Then I jog down the three steps to the front walk and head down the street.
The village is quiet and mostly still, since most members of my pack are still sleeping. The sun is barely beginning to lighten the horizon, and the last of the night’s stars are still winking high overhead. This cusp between late night and early morning has always felt a bit otherworldly to me, good for clearing my head so I can let go of my problems. It’s just about the only time of the day or night that I can be fully alone—no pack mates making demands of my time, no responsibilities hanging over me. Just me, the sky, and the wind in my fur.
I’m on the edge of the village, just past the council meeting house, and am about to tug off my clothes so I can shift when I hear footsteps behind me. Turning around, I watch as Grady O’Connell approaches, his footsteps heavy on the dirt road. He’s at least twenty years older than me, but he’s got the height and width of an NBA player in his prime.
It’s pretty clear he’s heading right for me, so I wait patiently for his arrival. He lifts his chin in greeting as he steps up beside me, shooting me a lopsided grin.
“Alpha Ridge. How you doin’ this mornin’?”
>
I snort, because he’s got to know the answer to that question could fill a fucking book. And he isn’t even aware of everything that happened after Lawson’s challenge yesterday.
So I just shrug one shoulder, looking out over the horizon as it begins to lighten. “Still here.”
“That you are.” He nods to himself, staring out toward the forest just like I am. “I’m glad to see it. That mate of yours. She sure is something.”
I tense slightly. I can’t quite tell from his tone whether “something” is good or bad, and brace myself for his judgment.
As if he can read my thoughts, he grins, nudging me with his elbow. “Only you could have found yourself a hybrid. Your dad would have liked her, but probably for the wrong reasons. He’d have used her as a tool against the witches, but you’re probably hoping to build bridges or some shit.”
I laugh. “Yeah. Something like that.”
Grady turns toward me, his expression growing more serious as he rubs a hand over his bald head. “I’ve got your back, alpha. You know that. And your girl, she doesn’t scare me. I think she’s good people, and the mate bond doesn’t lie.”
“Thanks for that.” I nod, my eyes narrowing slightly as I wait for the but I can sense coming.
Grady sucks at his teeth. He glances away from me, his brown eyes assessing the gathering sunrise, and then goes on. “Even though I’ve got your back, and you know quite a few of us do—not everyone will. Your girl may be a wolf, but that won’t erase the witch in her. You’re gonna have to reckon with that.”
“Yeah. I know.” I nod once, letting him know I understand exactly what he’s getting at. Then I strip off my t-shirt and drop it on the ground, itching to shift and stretch my legs in the woods. I shoot Grady a lopsided grin. “Any other pearls of wisdom for me this morning, old man?”
He laughs, then claps a hand to my shoulder and squeezes. I can feel the calluses on his fingertips, and I’m reminded what a good man he is. Strong, capable, never missed a hard day’s work in his life. And his opinion matters to me.
