by Everly Frost
At the same time, Peter Nash hooks a finger at Dawson, sharply indicating that his son should get the hell away from me. My half-brother doesn’t hang around, racing after Cody and Cameron to the edge of the clearing.
One of the alphas strides away from the others when the betas drop Cody to the grass. This alpha has the same sandy blond hair as Cody and Cameron, but he’s weathered, older. I can only assume he’s Cody’s father—the notorious Baxter Griffin.
Baxter grabs Cody’s shoulders and shakes him roughly before he points at me. My sensitive hearing picks up the derision in his speech. “That freak bitch beat you? You’re a fucking disappointment.”
He backhands Cody with a strike hard enough to knock his son face-first into the grass. Cody’s fists clench and his shoulders tense, but he doesn’t retaliate as he rises to his feet, blood dripping from his nose.
Closer to me, Peter Nash demands my attention as the sun finally slips beneath the horizon and darkness begins to fall.
“It’s just you and me now, bitch,” Peter growls, his thick lips curving into a smile. “I’ve been waiting for an excuse to kill you.”
He and I are left in the middle of the clearing, and now I have a choice to make. Up till this point in the fight, I’ve only released my wolf’s energy to the extent necessary to make myself stronger in my human form.
But Peter’s going to kill me anyway.
I’m a dead woman.
I can count what remains of my life in minutes.
I seek my father across the distance. He gives me an urgent shake of his head, but I won’t obey him this time.
I’d rather die with my wolf at my side.
With a deep exhale, I release her energy.
Her shape materializes in the dark, a sapphire silhouette that stands beside me—the side of her chest connected to my thigh, as if she’s nudging up against me. Her energy pulses like flames around my body, turning the air electric blue, an eerie sight. Her fur appears as pulsing ribbons of light and her eyes are bright, keen, but full of all the power and violence that I need right now.
If I shift fully, I will merge with her shape. I will become a wolf like any other shifter except that my fur will flicker and glow with the same cobalt light that surrounds her silhouette right now.
This is my version of a partial shift. My wolf standing at my side.
The alphas at the edge of the clearing startle, their heads jerking back. Peter Nash takes a quick step away from me, his eyes widening.
“What the fuck?” He recovers quickly, his head lowering, stepping toward me again. “I should have killed you the day I became alpha.”
My wolf’s energy surges inside me and a reckless smile grows on my face. My shirt hangs off me in tatters, barely concealing my torn bra. Blood drips down my arm. I’m a mess of cuts and blossoming bruises, but I narrow my eyes at Peter Nash, determined to challenge him.
Instead of backing away from him like he expects, I step forward with a snarl. “You call yourself my alpha, but you’re nothing to me. Take your best shot, asshole.”
Another shock ripples through the watching alphas. I sense their hushed inhales and startled glances. Several of the men lean forward, anticipation growing on their faces, while the woman leans back, her arms folded across her chest. Baxter Griffin watches with keen eyes, his lips pressed together.
Ignoring the watching shifters, I break into a quick stride, closing the distance between Dawson’s father and me.
His eyes darken with deadly intent.
I clench my fist, thrumming with my wolf’s energy, preparing to take a swipe at him, even if it’s the last thing I do.
Oomph! A heavy weight hits me from the side.
I register a large, furred body before the air is knocked from my chest and my feet leave the ground. I barely have time to be shocked—not only from the hit, but from the fact that I somehow missed the approach of this larger-than-average wolf.
Air rushes around me before I hit the ground and roll in a dizzying spin, caught up in his arms, legs, claws, furred limbs—I can’t even tell which—as we roll through the grass.
My attacker shifts so fast from man to wolf and back again that I barely catch his animal’s scent before I thud onto my back, dazed, my head spinning, the impact jarring through me.
I’m frighteningly stunned and unable to move. His heavy body—in human form now—presses down onto mine so completely that I can’t breathe.
Naked—very naked—skin presses against my breasts and stomach, heating me where my shirt is torn. As my senses return to me, I try to see who attacked me, but I can’t even see his face because he has already bent his head to my ear.
His growl makes me shiver. “Stay the fuck down.”
The wild hair falling across his face brushes my cheek, a soft tickle compared to the sharp graze of his stubble across the corner of my lips as he lifts off me.
Released from beneath his weight, my chest expands, and I can finally inhale.
Power.
Pure, devastating, arch-my-back-and-scream power pours off this man, making me flush hot from my face all the way down to my toes.
My wolf’s vision explodes with cobalt fire before it extinguishes like a burnt fuse and her energy recedes fully. Her silhouette disappears, leaving me completely vulnerable in my human form again.
As my attacker rears up over me, I finally catch a glimpse of him. He can’t be older than mid-twenties. Strands of raven black hair fall across his crisp green eyes. They’re bright in the emerging moonlight and so darkly rimmed that the contrast is startling. His chin is shadowed with growth that accentuates his strong jaw. As he rises up to his full height, his muscled silhouette reveals that he’s tall, leaner than Peter Nash, but bulkier than Dawson or Cody, every muscle in perfect harmony with his movements.
A tattoo of a snarling wolf’s head stretches across his left shoulder and chest. The image of a snake slides through the wolf’s eye sockets, its body curling down his side and back up again like a noose. The snake’s open mouth rises up beside the wolf’s head, both creatures baring fangs and teeth. It’s a startling image. Like the snake is killing the wolf—an enemy—but also fighting beside it like a protector.
He’s also completely naked and doesn’t appear to give a fuck about it.
Ignoring his warning to stay down, I rise cautiously to my feet, meeting the fierce gaze of the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
Chapter Two
He appraises me as I stand, his rapidly narrowing gaze giving me goosebumps that make me icy and hot in rapid flashes.
He told me to stay down, but I’m not his to command.
I lift my chin, defiant, my hair swishing around my hips. I prepare for him to retaliate like any other alpha would—to show me my place with his fists.
I’m surprised when he remains where he is despite the tightness around his eyes and the twitching muscle in his jaw. I don’t know who this man is, or what his intentions are, but the power I sense in him tells me he has to be the missing seventh alpha.
His perfectly sculpted chest glistens with sweat, a sheen that indicates he ran up the mountain, taking the slope much faster than the others.
I guess he was late to the party.
Peter Nash remains several paces away, poised where he must have dug in his heels.
His focus is now on the newcomer.
“Tristan Masters.” Peter growls. “You finally decided to show up.”
Tristan Masters.
I shiver. I can’t stop myself from taking an involuntary step back. At the side of the clearing, my father has left his position and moved closer, but not so close that Peter Nash will retaliate. Even without the fearful tension in my father’s posture, I know that my situation just became a thousand times more dangerous.
Facing Peter Nash is one thing. Taking on Tristan Masters, the most ruthless of all alphas, is definitely another. If he killed his own father, he won’t hesitate to end me.
For some reas
on, he chose to barrel into me at full speed when I was about to take a swipe at Peter—a wolf I have no respect for and will never obey. Tristan either intended to stop me from doing something stupid—or he wants to be the one to destroy me.
Either way, as far as I’m concerned, every alpha in this clearing is my enemy.
Tristan casts a sideways glance at me. My body heats when his assessment lingers on the rips in my shirt, but I refuse to cross my arms to cover myself. It’s hard to tell how much I’m flashing everyone right now, but I know I’m bleeding where Dawson’s claws caught my skin across my stomach and ribs, along with the cuts across my shoulder from Cody’s attempt to mark me.
Tristan swings back to Peter.
Tristan’s mouth shapes into a grin that makes my blood run cold. His eyes crinkle at the corners and his incisors peek through his lips. “The welcome party you sent me is lying in a ditch, Peter. I left a few of them alive to crawl home. I hope they weren’t your strongest wolves.”
My eyes widen as the meaning of Tristan’s statement sinks in. Peter must have sent men to kill Tristan on his way here. That seems like a particularly dangerous and reckless thing to do at the time of a Conclave. It would explain why Tristan’s late.
Peter’s jaw clenches, his eyes narrowing. He takes a heavy step forward, but his voice lowers. “Your days are numbered, Tristan.”
Tristan’s grin doesn’t fade. He taps a suddenly clawed fingernail against his muscular thigh. “All our days are numbered, Peter. Yours more than mine, old man.”
Peter hisses through his teeth when Tristan steps into position between him and me. Tristan’s stance makes me frown with confusion. In my experience, alphas don’t protect. With the exception of my father, alphas possess, intimidate, control, and threaten. What Tristan might intend turns my stomach into knots.
“You will get out of my way,” Peter says. “This is a pack matter. It is not your concern.”
Tristan inclines his head toward Cody and Cameron where they’ve retreated to the edge of the forest. “You have trespassers, Peter. Conclave law has been broken. This is a matter for the Conclave to decide.”
Before Peter can snarl a response, a man strides from the shadows at the corner of the cabin behind us. He’s surprisingly quiet and unobtrusive as he hands Tristan a pair of jeans. Despite his calm demeanor, Peter Nash takes a step away from both of them, as if the newcomer’s appearance tips the balance entirely in Tristan’s favor.
The newcomer stands as tall as Tristan, just as broad in the shoulders and messily unshaven, but his hair is honey blond, his eyes a deep green like pine leaves. He also wears a tattoo of a wolf across his left shoulder, this one crushing a crimson rose between its teeth, petals dripping like blood down his side.
“Tristan,” he says, his voice a low growl as Tristan leans toward him. “Watch your back.”
Tristan gives him a brief nod. “Jace, check the perimeter.”
“I already did. It’s clear,” Jace murmurs before he takes up position a few paces behind and to Tristan’s right. He has to be Tristan’s beta. He must have arrived when Tristan did—and the direction he came from indicates that they ran up the other side of the mountain, the side I was planning to run down once I escaped from Cody and Dawson.
Tristan pulls on his jeans before he raises his voice, speaking to the other alphas. “I am the alpha of the Western Lowlands. I call a Conclave vote on Tessa Dean’s fate.”
My confusion increases at the fact that Tristan knows my name. My only explanation is that my reputation as a freak extends beyond my pack.
I force myself to remain standing where I am, even though my instincts scream at me to run. I wouldn’t get far. I’m now standing within striking distance of two of the most dangerous alphas in the Highland and Lowland—Tristan Masters and Peter Nash—and the third, Baxter Griffin, is already striding toward us.
The friction between the three men makes me shiver. They clearly hate each other.
There’s a sudden flurry of movement among the remaining shifters standing at the edge of the clearing. Each alpha pairs off with their beta, widening the space between their small groups as they aggressively walk toward us, their gleaming eyes narrowed as they glare at me.
They take up position in a row on either side of Peter until they stand in a semi-circle with their betas behind them, all facing me while Tristan remains between them and me.
Baxter Griffin’s gaze drives daggers into me. He isn’t as much of a bulldog as Peter is, but he’s certainly not lean. His hair is a darker blond than his son’s and peppered with silver. Shifters don’t age as quickly as humans, but even so, Baxter’s body has taken some knocks. A number of short scars mark his upper arms, mimicking the slash of a clawed hand. He’s clearly seen battle—and survived every challenge.
Baxter steps up to Tristan, getting in his face. “That bitch dared to challenge my boys. I vote for death.”
I fight the snarl rising in my throat. If I should die for defending myself, then Baxter Griffin should die for pushing his son around.
Peter Nash nods his head in agreement, a gleam in his eyes. “She’s an abomination. Her wolf is abnormal. We all saw it. I also vote for death.”
At the edge of the clearing, my half-brother waggles his finger at me and mouths, “Maggot food.” He may be keeping his statement quiet, but I’m sure I damaged his vocal chords. He won’t be able to speak for at least a week. Near to him, Cody remains at the edge of the clearing, leaning up against one of the trees, his focus still intently on me.
I spin back to the alphas, unable to contain my snarls. “You can vote all you want, but one of you has to have the strength to kill me. I won’t go down without taking you with me. I promise you that.”
The female alpha steps forward, her head held high, her straight, blond ponytail falling across her shoulder in a glossy line. “She’s got balls, I’ll give her that. But let’s be honest about why we’re voting to kill her.” She casts a cold gaze at the men. “If she knocked down three alphas-in-training, that makes her a threat.”
“She’s a freak.” Peter Nash spits, glaring at me. “I’ve known it from the moment I caught her scent when she was a baby. Now I’ve seen her wolf. I should have ended her years ago.”
The female alpha shrugs. “Freak. Threat. Whatever you want to call her, Peter. It doesn’t change the truth.” She considers me with a cold smile. “I also vote for death.”
One by one, the alphas speak up, their hard gazes passing across me with varying expressions of disgust, disinterest, and challenge as they announce my fate.
As they vote for me to die, my rage simmers hotter inside me. I’ve spent my whole life dreading this moment, wondering how many days I have left and how death might come to me. Now it’s here and my biggest regret is that my father gave up so much to keep me alive for the last twenty-three years.
I seek him across the distance. He remains at the edge of the clearing. Even though this is his home, he has no more power over this space than I do right now.
He lifts his chin and for a moment, I see again the alpha he must have been before Peter tore him apart. While I picture Peter as something of a bulldog, my father has always been pure wolf. He stands nearly a head taller than any other shifter. The clothing he’s wearing right now—flannel shirt and jeans—hides strength that he rarely reveals, certainly never to hurt me. I don’t know what my pack was like under his rule, but I like to think it was a damn sight happier than it is now.
He pauses at the edge of the forest, and I can sense the determination thrumming through him. If the alphas vote to kill me, my father is going to do something very stupid to try to save me.
I give him a small shake of my head, silently begging him not to act. It will only lead to his death along with mine.
Finally, Tristan is the only alpha who hasn’t voted.
I turn back to the group to find myself the center of Tristan’s attention, his disconcerting green eyes fixated on me.
/> He doesn’t seem in any hurry to make a decision, pacing toward me as I stand my ground. His beta—the shifter called Jace who brought Tristan his clothing—is a quiet shadow behind him. They both emanate power, Jace nearly as much as Tristan, which surprises me. Normally, alphas choose betas who are strong but could never challenge them or their chosen alpha-in-training.
Tristan stops so close to me that I struggle not to react to his presence. The power radiating from him is like a golden blaze in my vision. My wolf’s energy rattles inside me again, suddenly tugging outward, as if she’s going to force me into a full shift. She’s never acted without me before and it startles me enough that I lose my emotionless mask, struggling to maintain my indifference in the face of my death.
Tristan leans close, his breathing calm and even. “Stay still,” he orders me. “I need to know for sure…”
I frown, even more confused. Know what?
His lips part. He darts forward, his mouth nudging my neck, bristles like sandpaper making me gasp and shiver as he inhales deeply.
He freezes, every tense muscle in his chest and arms filling me with dread.
He slowly draws back from me so that I can see his face.
His pupils are dilated just like Cody’s.
I brace for Tristan’s violent reaction—a fist to my face, his claws and teeth sinking into me—but he remains where he is, a single pace away from me. Other than the brief brush of his lips on my neck, he doesn’t touch me.
He blinks—just once—and his eyes clear.
His gaze flicks beyond me. Surprisingly, to my father. It’s such a quick appraisal before he returns his attention to me that I’m sure I imagined it.
Tristan returns my cool gaze with a hooded expression, so closed off now that I can’t read his intentions. My wolf’s energy rises inside me, but my rage is dulled, confused. I’m used to being able to read shifters, my wolf’s energy allowing me to sense their emotions. Tristan’s thoughts are completely contained, as deliberately controlled as his movements as he turns his back on me and takes up position between me and the other alphas again.
