Dark Wolf

by Callie Rose

  Those who stood earlier sit back down, and the fearful mutterings die away as the pack stares at their alpha, waiting for his next words.

  “Good.” Malcolm nods, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Then we are in agreement that Sable will join us, with your support, to help us fight our common enemy.”

  21

  Trystan

  “I’d like it to be known that I disagree with this plan.”

  As I speak, I slam my empty beer can on the coffee table, already regretting that I finished it too fast. It’s the only one I’ll have tonight. We’ve gotta stay sharp and alert, but I needed something to calm my fucking nerves.

  The guys and I are gathered around our mate on the couch at Archer’s place as she prepares to try to break into Cleo’s mind again.

  I get it—we want to be prepared. What’s coming isn’t going to be easy. How the fuck do you fight magic with claws and fangs? You don’t. Not really. You just try not to get your ass kicked too hard.

  For the first time in shifter history, we actually have a chance to fight magic with magic. If Sable can walk through the bond into Cleo’s head one more time and get us a timeline on their planned attack, that information could be priceless.

  But I don’t have to like it.

  “We need to know what they’re doing and what’s happening next,” Sable says simply. “If this attack is coming today or tomorrow or next week. And there’s only one way to find that out.”

  The steaming mug of hot tea between her white-knuckled hands has barely been touched. Archer forced it on her when we got back from the pack meeting, but all she’s done is stare into it like it’s a magic mirror with all the answers. She’s been quiet since we returned, but there’s a hint of steel in her voice now that tells me I shouldn’t push her too far.

  Too bad I never listen to hints. Never listen to anything I should, really.

  “It’s not safe,” I argue.

  “Hey. Shut up.” Dare levels a hard glare at me, shaking his head. He’s perched on the arm of the couch like a fucking vulture, while Ridge and Archer flank Sable on the cushions.

  I’m sitting on the coffee table facing her, even though I’m ninety-nine percent sure the damn thing is going to collapse beneath me at any minute. After watching her perform magic in front of the pack earlier, I’ve wanted to be as near to her as possible. I could tell it took a lot out of her—not just the effort of performing the spell, but the fear of doing it in front of a freaked out audience.

  “Dude,” I snap back, shifting my gaze to Dare. “It’s not safe, and you know it.”

  Sable shrugs. “Safe or not, it needs to be done. I’m going. You can’t stop me, Trystan.” She gives me a little grin, a hint of amusement glinting in her eyes even though her cheeks are pale. “Not even if you tackle me again.”

  I stare at her warily. She hides her backbone well, and when she whips it out, it’s like we should all run for cover. Who knew such a small, sexy package could hold such an iron will?

  “You’re on board with this?” I ask Ridge, hoping he’ll back me up.

  “Sable’s stronger than we give her credit for,” he says.

  I scowl at him, not because he didn’t back me up, but because he’s fucking right and I hate it. I’m being an ass over her protection again, when I need to learn to let her be the badass she is.

  Even if it sucks letting the woman I love face this kind of danger.

  So I shut my mouth and nod once, giving in. But I might have a second beer after this shit is over.

  Sable crosses her legs on the couch cushions and closes her eyes. We all watch her in silence as she begins to breathe deeply and purposefully. Her shoulders slump forward. Her hands go slack against her legs. All the tension seems to evaporate from her body as she slouches against the back of the couch like a rag doll.

  “Sable?” I ask, my heart pounding.

  Archer shoots me a warning glare, and Ridge punches me in the arm.

  Dammit. I can’t help it. I’m trying to give her all the love and support I can, but I’m so nervous my palms are sweaty. I wish like fuck I could be the one to do this whole “looking into the witch’s mind” thing. Not because I don’t trust Sable to handle it, but because I’d rather take the risk myself and keep her out of it. She’s already been through an entire lifetime’s worth of pain and struggle, and I’ll be damned if I let her keep shouldering all this shit alone. No matter how adept she’s becoming at it.

  I realize with a start that she is adept at this. She’s capable. Truly capable, and I trust her completely. It’s my own damn fears I have to get past.

  This is something only Sable can do. I definitely couldn’t do it better, which isn’t a feeling I’m used to having. Half the time, nobody can fucking do anything right, and I have to do it my damn self. I’m competent, but everyone else isn’t.

  Except Sable. I have a fucking scary amount of faith in her, even when I’m terrified she’ll get hurt. She’ll do her best, which is just as good as I’d do. So yeah, I might wish I could shoulder the burden, but in the end… she’s got this.

  All I can do is hold her hand.

  Long minutes pass. I watch her eyes move beneath her eyelids, wondering what she’s seeing. She hasn’t moved, not even a flinch, as if she’s in some kind of trance. I don’t even want to blink in case I miss something, in case she needs me, needs all of us. My eyes burn. I fight the urge to fidget or speak again. I fight the urge to wake her up.

  Then she sucks in a deep breath, and her eyes pop open. Both of her hands fly out to grasp the seat cushions as if she needs an anchor to the real world. Her gaze darts around between us, dazed and unfocused for a few moments until she finally comes back to herself.

  I know, without a doubt, I’m not imagining the fear in her eyes.

  I reach out and take both her hands in mine. They’re shaking.

  “What happened?” Ridge asks, putting his hand on her shoulder to comfort her.

  Sable swallows hard, anxiety etching lines in her face. “I got information, but…”

  “But what?” The question comes out a little too sharply, and I clench my jaw.

  “I think…” She swallows. “Fuck. I tried to do it just like I did the last two times, but there was a strange feeling when I started to pull back. Almost like… almost like Cleo realized someone was in her head.”

  Ridge swears lightly under his breath, and Archer’s features tighten as he asks, “Do you think she picked up on the bond?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe not. I’m not sure she can feel the connection between us, but she definitely knew something was up.” Sable shudders. “Every time I probe inside her head, I risk getting discovered.”

  “And I’m the asshole for not wanting you to do this,” I mutter, dreaming about that second beer as my nerves feel stretched to the limit.

  “You’re not an asshole. And you’re right,” Sable says quietly. “I have to be careful. If Cleo figures out that I exist, she could use the connection between us in the same way I have been. She could creep into my head and learn everything. All our secrets. All our plans. We can’t let that happen.”

  “What about the attack? Did you find out anything helpful?” Dare asks, rounding us back to the whole reason she did this in the first place.

  She nods shakily. “Three days. It’s happening in three days. They hit some snags in planning, I think. I didn’t get any details, but I did get the sense they don’t want to move until they have their attack coordinated perfectly.”

  “We should do the same with our defenses,” Archer says, scooting to the edge of the couch cushion and rubbing his hands together. “Now that we know what kind of timeline we’re on, we know how long we have to prepare. Let’s go over our plans again.”

  “What plans?” I scoff. “We band together. We fight. End of story.”

  Archer rolls his eyes, and Dare snorts. In some sense, they both know I’m right. We’ll do everything we can to plan for the shit the witc
hes might throw at us, but in the heat of battle, it’ll come down to two things.

  Protecting our fellow wolves.

  And taking out as many witches as possible.

  There are some things we can do to prepare for the fight though, shit that might give us a bit of an edge since we’ve got time to prepare, so we go over those as we dive into discussing the upcoming battle.

  It’s late by the time we decide to break for bed. Sable looks dead on her feet, and even I’m feeling a desperate need for rest. But when we all stand and head as a group for the bedroom, she steps out ahead of us and holds up both her hands to stop us, worry on her face.

  “I think I should sleep alone,” she says sadly.

  I raise an eyebrow, but Dare’s the one who answers for all of us. “You shouldn’t be alone at all.”

  “I feel weak.” She grimaces as she speaks the last word, her blue eyes darting between the four of us. “I’m still recuperating from traveling, and using magic earlier today, I don’t… I don’t trust myself, okay? I think it would be safer if I slept alone, and you guys kept watch out here. Away from me.”

  “We aren’t afraid of you, Sable,” Archer says gently.

  “No. I know.” She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “It’s just… I think it would be harder for me to hurt you with an unexpected spell if you’re farther away.”

  I exchange looks with the other men. It’s clear they all feel the same way I do. We don’t want to be without her. Not for a single night. But I trust Sable to know her boundaries, and if she says she feels weak and needs us to be away from her, I’m willing to cede to her judgment. It’s not so much out of my own self-preservation as it is to protect her—because if she accidentally hurt one of us, I know the guilt of it would wreck her.

  Ridge nods. “All right. If that’s what you need. But you’ll take the bedroom.”

  A look of relief smooths the planes of her face, and she closes her eyes for a brief moment. “Thank you.”

  She gives us each a kiss goodnight, taking her time, doing it right. Maybe a little too right, since my lips are still tingling as she disappears down the dimly lit hallway. A moment later, the bedroom door clicks shut.

  The living room is filled with nervous energy as the four of us decide where to sleep. Dare and Ridge shift and each curl up on a cushion on the couch, while Archer’s blond wolf drags a rug to the living room doorway and curls up. Not the most comfortable-looking spot, but he likely picked it so he can have better access to Sable if something goes wrong.

  I’m still in human form, deciding maybe I’ll sleep on the mat just inside the front door. It’ll place me within line of sight to the bedroom, as well as making sure no one can sneak up on the house without me knowing about it. Sable might have learned that we have three days until the threat comes, but I still don’t want to take any chances. Just in case.

  But before I shift, I glance down the hallway. I can practically feel Sable’s fear floating out of the bedroom.

  I know what she asked for, and I understand why she did. She wants to keep us safe from her powers, which I get. I appreciate it. But she doesn’t need to be alone until she’s actually asleep. Not now, with so much weighing on her. She’s so good at keeping her chin up that it’s easy to forget her entire life has been torn apart and rebuilt around us. The thought of her curled up all alone, feeling as if she has no one, makes my feet turn of their own accord.

  I walk softly past the other shifters, who barely glance at me before closing their eyes and letting me go. Maybe they sense her fear too, and despite how easily we all let her make the decision to sleep alone tonight, they know she shouldn’t be on her own right now.

  It’s a strange feeling, this trust they’ve put in me to go take care of her.

  The bedroom is cool, dimly lit by the small lamp on Archer’s bedside table. Sable’s propped up against the pillows, wide awake and holding the book of spells that the mountain witch gave her.

  When our eyes meet, I know I’ve made the right decision. The fear in her blue gaze tugs at me. I realize she’s not afraid for herself—she’s afraid for everyone else around her. Even with a closed door between her and the rest of us, she’s still so worried she’ll hurt us.

  She’s just so fucking good. She cares about other people more than she cares about herself, and it’s such a foreign concept to me that a person this honest and full of light could even exist on this planet.

  I cross the room in three strides and pull her into my arms, holding her tight.

  22

  Sable

  Of course it’s Trystan who goes against my wishes and barges into the bedroom like he owns the place.

  But I can’t even be mad. The sight of him looming in the doorway, his shoulders so broad he barely fits, is a welcome one. Then he’s on the bed, his arms warm and real around me. I clutch his t-shirt and lean into him, breathing in his scent, taking strength in his presence.

  Since I returned from my latest trip into Cleo’s mind, I’ve been working constantly to keep up a barrier inside my own head so that the coven leader can’t track me down. I don’t know how much she saw or felt, but I can’t risk her making her way into my head. God forbid she realize there’s a connection between us.

  What if she could control me through the bond? Make me kill my mates? Make me destroy the East Pack’s village?

  But I don’t know how long I can keep up these barriers. I don’t have any practice with them, and my magic is tenuous and uncooperative at best. I feel raw and on edge. I’ve been sitting here paging through Gwen’s book, wishing she were here to guide me, even if it means having to trust a stranger.

  I feel so lost.

  Trystan’s presence helps. Heat seeps from his skin, chasing away the chill I haven’t been able to shake. I nuzzle the warm skin of his neck and feel an aching desire for more. More skin on skin. More warmth.

  As if he can read my mind, he takes the spell book from my hands and sets it on the bedside table. Then he grips my chin between his thumb and forefinger and lifts my face to his for a kiss.

  It’s soft and slow at first. Just a promise that he’s here, that he’ll take care of me, that nobody can hurt me while he’s holding me. Then I slide my fingers through his messy chocolate-brown hair, and the kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, until I’m clinging to him like I’m drowning and nothing else matters but the feel of his skin against mine.

  He tugs my shirt off over my head, and I lift my arms to help him before reaching for the hem of his shirt to reciprocate. I draw back for a second, staring at the sculpted planes of muscle on his chest, the ridges of his abs. He’s beautiful.

  Sometimes I still can’t believe that he’s mine. That any of these men are.

  As if to prove to myself that it’s all truly real, I reach out and run my fingers down his stomach, watching his body tense under my gentle, exploratory touch. My hand drifts lower, to the waistband of his pants, and I can see the outline of his cock already straining against the fabric.

  I brush my hand over his bulge, and Trystan groans quietly.

  “You keep doing that, and this is gonna turn into more than a goodnight kiss.”

  I grin at the hungry, possessive warning in his voice. “I want more than a goodnight kiss.”

  “Well, in that case…”

  He doesn’t even bother finishing the sentence. He just lifts me up and deposits me on my back on the bed, settling his body against mine as he kisses me like he really fucking means it this time. He grinds against me a little, letting me feel how much he wants me, and I rake my fingernails down his back, making him shudder.

  Finally, he breaks away and kisses a path down my chest and over the plane of my stomach, tugging my sleep shorts off as he settles between my legs. I bend my knees to help him, and he tosses them away before nudging my thighs a little wider.

  His gaze flicks up to meet mine, and I have a vivid memory of the time he made me tell him exactly what I wanted before he ate me
out in the hallway. But tonight, he doesn’t make me say a thing. He doesn’t make me beg.

  He just gives me what I—what we both—need. His tongue licks a path up the line of my core, ending at my clit and flicking back and forth over the sensitive bud. Then he drags it up and down and side to side in a pattern I can’t even guess at, lapping at me until I’m gasping and writhing beneath him. My hands delve into his chocolate-brown hair, holding him in place as I arch up toward his face, shamelessly pressing myself harder against the onslaught of his tongue.

  When he chuckles, the vibrations of the sound are a whole new kind of pleasure, and I whine softly.

  “Don’t worry,” he murmurs, pulling away for a second. “I’ve got you.”

  His tongue finds my clit again at the same moment he slides two fingers into me, and I pant out a gasping breath as he curls them, rubbing at a secret spot inside me.

  “Trystan. Please!”

  His fingers move faster, his tongue matching their pace. He pushes me right to the edge and lets me hover there for what seems like an eternity—and just when I think I can’t take it any longer, he wraps his lips around my clit and sucks.

  Little lightning bolts of sensation shoot through me, and I throw my head back as I come hard. My legs clamp around Trystan’s head, and I feel the vibration of his laugh again as he keeps licking me, driving me through the orgasm in rolling waves.

  When I finally relax my legs, melting back into the bed, he looks up. The lower half of his face is wet with my arousal, and my clit flutters with aftershocks as he licks his lips. Then he rolls onto the mattress beside me, tugging me over so that I’m draped on top of him. I feel the hardness of his cock against my ass, and when I rise up onto my knees, he helps me position myself over him.

  I reach between us and line him up, and then I sink down, impaling myself on his thick length.

  A contented sigh falls from my lips, as if I’ve been missing an essential piece of myself and I just found it.