by Dean Murray
Insecurity gnawed at me. I would never look that self-assured. Maybe they were all right to assume she would win the alpha contest.
“Thanks,” she said, a half-smile pulling one side of her lips up in what looked like a mixture of surprise and pleasure. “The rest of your things were brought up at lunch. Did you find them?”
“My things?” I asked in confusion. Did she mean the homecoming dress they’d brought me here in? That thing had to have been trashed after everything—
“Dad ordered some new things for you until you could shop for yourself,” Regan explained. “They’re in the wardrobe. I assumed you would’ve found them by now or I would’ve told you earlier. Your mom helped pick them out.”
“My mom?” I said, crossing to the wardrobe and yanking it open. Some part of me half-expected her to be in there along with the clothes. It was silly, but my heart sank anyway at seeing only fabric hanging. Still, even at first glance I saw that it was high-quality fabrics.
“Thank you. Wow,” I said, fingering through the blouses and dresses hanging inside. “These are great.”
“Dad said your mom ordered from your favorite store.”
“He spoke to her?” I asked, turning sharply.
“Sure. We wanted to let her know you were all right,” Regan said. “You still haven’t called her, have you?” she asked, her voice gentling.
“No,” I said, staring down at my fingers twisting in front of me. Guilt pricked at me over it, but not as heavy as before. At least she knew I was all right.
“I’m sure she’ll be glad to hear from you, when you’re ready,” Regan offered.
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t tell her I wasn’t ready. Not when I knew she’d never be able to talk to her own again. It didn’t seem right to complain about mine. I looked through the wardrobe again and my eyes caught on a lacy dress far in the back.
I yanked the other hangers aside and traced my fingers down the bodice of a finely beaded white dress. It took me a few seconds and a full sweep of the garment to realize what it was. “Wait. Is this…?” I snapped my hand away as Regan came up beside me.
“That’s for the wedding,” she said quietly, confirming my worst fears. I looked up and found my terror mirrored back at me in her expression. “There wouldn’t be time to have one made between the end of the competition and the ceremony, so we both have one. Just in case.”
My stomach flip-flopped with nerves. I already had my wedding dress. This was too weird.
“I don’t know if…” I stopped, struggling to form the words without also giving way to tears. “I decided to stay and do this but … every time I think I can, something else happens and—” I broke off, but Regan nodded.
“If it makes you feel any better, I feel the same way,” she said.
I attempted a smile. “It does. Thank you.”
She searched my face, but instead of intrusive, her onceover felt friendly. Almost caring. “Is there anything else you need before tonight…?”
I sniffled—the only evidence of my freak out, which was progress for me. “I couldn’t find any mascara anyway.”
“Sure. I left you some things in the vanity. Waterproof?” she asked.
“Please,” I said with a wry smile.
“Let me help you.” Regan moved through my room, collecting makeup from the bathroom I hadn’t known was there and helping me with the top button of the dress. Afterward, she did my hair with deft fingers, piling some of it on top of my head and leaving the rest loose.
I stared at the wall over her shoulder while she swept liner along my eyelid. She smelled like powder and soil, beautiful but earthy.
“Don’t worry,” she said in a gentle voice as she worked. “Tonight’s going to be easy.”
“Easy?” I gave a shaky laugh. “I think we have different definitions of the word.”
Regan smiled tightly. “Open your mouth and look up.”
I obeyed, and she finished the rest of my eye makeup just as swiftly and confidently as she had done my hair. Once the lip gloss was brushed on, she stepped back to let me see myself in the mirror again.
The reflection looked nothing like me.
I scrutinized myself in the mirror, turning my chin this way and that so I could see my hair and face from all angles. I looked like a stranger, someone not-quite-Charlie, like maybe Regan had cloned herself with longer hair. When I straightened my back and held my shoulders straight, I passed for confident. Almost like an alpha, too.
I just hoped it would be enough for whatever was expected of me. Now that it was time, the nerves returned, full force now. I clamped down and lectured myself about not throwing up.
“You look good,” Regan said, breaking my reverie.
“Yeah. I guess,” I said, terror leaching away at my confidence already.
Disappointment flashed across her face, then vanished fast enough that I thought I might have imagined it. “We should get going,” she said.
“Hey, Regan,” I called and she paused in the doorway. “I was wondering … I mean, I read over the book you sent up and couldn’t find anything about this…”
“What is it?” she asked.
“Our contest for alpha. They say it’s required to determine the new leader, but what if I refuse? I mean, forfeit. Wouldn’t they just give it to you and then I’m beta and no one has to fight about it?”
Regan’s expression didn’t lift like I’d hoped. There was no relief as she regarded me, nothing like I’d hoped. “That’s not—It doesn’t work like that, Charlie,” she said and I could hear the regret in her voice.
“How does it work then?” I asked.
“If you forfeit you would lose your place here. They would remove you. Send you home.”
“Well, I mean, what’s so bad about that?” I asked, and even without asking I knew there was a catch coming. It was in her tone.
“You would never be allowed to return or have communication with any of us. Including your family. And … I would…” She sighed.
“You would what?” I prompted. “What happens to you?”
“The Vuk line would no longer have a rightful claim to the alpha role. It would pass to the next in line,” she said, pain twisting her words and her expression. It was easy to see how much it cost her even to consider the possibility and my heart panged.
“What if I threw the fight?” I asked.
Regan hesitated. “You would do that?” she asked quietly.
“I don’t want to fight you,” I said.
Regan bit her lip and finally, she shook her head. “I don’t think that’s wise. If they find out we planned it, we’d both be disqualified anyway. Besides, it’s not all a physical battle. There will be mental challenges, and without knowing ahead of time what’s coming, it’s too risky to try and throw it.”
“I see,” I said. “Well, I was just wondering.”
Regan nodded. “Let’s get going before we’re late.”
I followed quickly, eager to put the conversation behind us.
Together, we left the main house and walked along into the woods behind the house. Big paper lanterns had been draped in the trees with flickering tea lights inside of them. They illuminated a sparkling path to the clearing where all the benches had been set up.
A band played on the stage. Waiters—other werewolves dressed in nice coats and slacks—were walking around with drinks on trays. I snagged one as they passed and drank the whole thing at once. Sparkling apple cider. It wouldn’t do anything for my nerves but I needed something to do.
Regan watched me through it all with critical eyes.
“Okay,” I said, squaring my shoulders. “Let’s meet the in-laws.”
Chapter Twelve
Regan
Charlie looked amazing. Seeing the way she sparkled in a dress like that made me wonder how different things would’ve been had we grown up as a pair.
I hated dresses. Almost as much as I hated parties. Everyone wandering around to the beat of water
ed-down elevator music and flashing their pasted-on smiles at each other, making small talk about the weather or who had the better patrol schedule ... All so they could try to one-up each other on who had worn the more expensive dress. A complete waste of time and alcohol.
But Charlie took it all in like a kid on Christmas morning. When we broke through the trees into the lantern-lit clearing, I heard her gasp, felt her footsteps stall. Her eyes grew round, and even though she tried to hide it, I could tell the sight in front of us only made her feel more out of place.
Something protective welled up inside me, something I hadn’t even known was there, and suddenly all I wanted to do was turn around and take her home. Out of instinct I scanned the crowd, cataloguing the faces into two groups. Us. And them.
Charlie took a few steps forward into the crowd and I followed, still scanning and counting. There was Sheridan huddled in the far corner with my father. Her face was scrunched, like she’d just eaten something sour, which probably meant she was still fussing at him for the deal he’d made. Good. Finally, Sheridan and I saw eye to eye on something.
Across the clearing from them, on the far side of a dance floor that had been constructed, stood Blaine and Gretchen Rossi. Both of them were the epitome of “pale and brooding” with their translucent skin and black formal wear. They were flanked by two men; their security detail, I assumed. I scanned their group for their son, Owen, but he was nowhere in sight. That made a nerve in my neck twitch. As usual with their close proximity, my wolf strained to break free, but I shoved it back and continued my watchful inspection. I needed to see who was here and where they stood. My wolf couldn’t handle any surprises.
Goose bumps rose on the back of my neck and I jerked around. Carter stood several feet behind us decked out in a dark suit complete with a forest-green tie. I liked the color contrast. Woods, earthy, animal. Nothing like them. His hair had been combed back in a classic gentleman’s style that I found myself admiring before I realized I was staring and turned away.
When I glanced back again, he raised his drink, eyes sparkling with something I didn’t recognize as his gaze swept the length of me. A shiver ran down my back at the way he studied me. Just like I’d done, he finally caught himself and blinked away whatever had been there a moment ago. Glass still raised, he used it to salute me before nodding toward Charlie.
I understood. He would shadow us until he was needed closer. He would watch her tonight like I’d asked. I nodded back in thanks.
Unaware of the exchange or her bodyguard, Charlie tugged on my elbow and leaned in. “I feel like biting someone,” she said with a frown as she looked around at the pale faces.
I snickered. Charlie wasn’t even a little bit scary or violent. If she felt like tearing something apart limb from limb, that’s you knew it was bad. “Join the club,” I muttered.
“You mean pack.”
The sarcastic bite in her words drew my attention back to Charlie. She reached out and selected a glass of the sparkling cider from one of the waiters passing by and knocked it back in one swig. I watched as her face registered surprise and then disappointment. She was apparently hoping for alcohol. She wouldn’t realize that would be a huge mistake in a gathering like this one.
“Okay. Let’s meet the in-laws,” she said.
I tried to ignore the punch of angry heat that term created in my gut. I led Charlie through the crowd, aiming loosely for where my father stood with Sheridan. We got stopped several times along the way, mostly because of Charlie. Sylvia was a glitter bomb of shimmer and smiles in her champagne-colored slip gown. Al hulked over us in a suit sans jacket. I suspected he couldn’t find one that would fit around his massive arms. We were probably lucky he’d found a shirt to button.
They waylaid us with polite questions and avid curiosity. Everyone wanted to meet the long-lost Vuk heir. I secured my smile firmly in place and did my duty with the introductions, trying not to gag on the small talk. Charlie answered everything they threw at her and for that, I was impressed. Maybe even proud. But now wasn’t the time to say so. Instead, I stuck close beside her, ready to rescue if needed. By the time we made it to Dad, Sheridan’s voice had risen and her expression was fiery as she faced him.
“You’re insane, William, if you think a truce will last. Blaine’s probably using tonight as a way to scope out our defenses. Pinpoint our weak spots. I can’t believe you’d blood seal this thing. And without putting it to the elders—”
“Myra wanted it this way, Sheridan,” Dad said, his tone unusually placating. Or was that exhaustion I heard. “It was her idea. And now … with her gone … All that matters is getting the new alpha in place.” He was surprisingly calm for the level of heat Sheridan had aimed at him. But I couldn’t think past his first statement. My mother had set this up? Really?
“We know who killed Myra. They’re standing right over there.” Sheridan gestured across the dance floor with a nod of her head.
“Blaine didn’t do this,” Dad said and the certainty in his words made me pause.
Charlie’s eyes widened as we stepped up next to them, but I kept silent. Did he really believe they were innocent? What did he know that we didn’t? And why had Mom hidden so much from me?
“Then who did it, William? Is there another vampire coven we’re at war with?” Sheridan demanded, too caught up in their discussion to notice us. “Because Myra, my best friend, had two holes in her neck when you found her. Last I checked, that was pretty indicative of a vamp.” Sheridan’s voice rose loud enough on the last word that a few others—werewolf and vampire alike—turned their heads to look.
I shot a look at Charlie and she glanced back at me with a single brow raised. Guilt worked its way along my gut as I realized I’d been caught in my lie. I’d told Charlie Mom was stabbed—it was technically true. Stabbed by fangs. The knife wound story was the official one that we’d given to police and outsiders. And the day I’d told Charlie, as far as I was concerned, she’d still been an outsider.
For now, I offered a subtle shake of my head and an apology in my expression. Charlie turned away, and I knew she’d let it go for now. I’d have to apologize later.
“Lower your voice, Sheridan.” Dad smiled—one of his fake, political ones. “We’re at a party, remember? An engagement party, to be exact.” He turned so easily that I knew he’d been aware of us the entire time. “And here are my girls now.”
Dad turned to me and I returned his smile with one of my own. It felt just as forced and plastic as his. God, I hated parties. And politics. “Hi, Dad.”
“Regan. You look beautiful, as always.” He turned to Charlie and his eyes flickered over her. His smile deepened to something more genuine. “Charlotte, you look ... breathtaking.”
A pang of jealousy twisted in my gut. I swallowed, shoving it down.
I couldn’t stand there and watch my dad fawn over Charlie. I felt inadequate enough being next to her.
“Excuse me,” I said, stepping away. My sister watched me go. Dad didn’t even look.
The clearing was uncomfortably full with a large empty space slicing through. It was as though an invisible line had been drawn down the center of the forest. My pack was crowded on one side, forming a solid wall of impenetrable bodies, and then several feet away, the vampires watched with hungry eyes.
I found a vantage point at the back of the crowd where the hill sloped up a little, letting me watch everyone. Whatever the elders said about a truce, I didn’t trust a fight not to break out. Too many of us felt like Sheridan—hungry for violence even without our wolves’ reflexes begging for it. I needed to be ready to intervene.
The vampires weren’t really any taller than the rest of us, but they seemed to take up so much more space in the clearing. Darkness radiated from them. A chill in the air. They were venomous snakes in the grass, and we had invited them onto our land and into our home. And I would have to marry one of them. The very thought of it gave me a sour taste in the back of my mouth.
I glared at Blaine and Gretchen Rossi as they sipped champagne and laughed, like they hadn’t a care in the world. It was a ruse. It had to be.
But where was that prince of theirs?
My eyes flicked to Charlie. She looked so small among everyone else, and protectiveness rocked me to the bone. I couldn’t let her marry a vampire. I just couldn’t. Even if I didn’t outweigh her in every category, I would still find a way to beat her. Somehow, she’d gotten underneath my skin and made me care about her.
Several feet back, I found Carter. Still sipping and watching Charlie while also scanning the surrounding area and beyond. His searching led him directly to me and our eyes met—as if he’d already known where I was. His green eyes sparkled brightly even from this distance as his expression lightened. Not quite a smile, but a little less worry lines along his forehead. I waved and he waved back before finally turning away to listen to whatever Bevin was saying to him.
A hush rippled through the crowd on both sides.
A new vampire stepped into the clearing. It was like he’d appeared out of shadow; empty space one minute and then the next, he was just there. His shoulders were almost as wide as he was tall, his hair buzzed close to his scalp in some version of a military cut, and angry red eyes scanned the gathering. Not the prince—I recognized the heavy signet ring on one hand with the royal family’s seal, which meant he was in their service. He was a brute. A bodyguard. The Rossi killing machine, I’d heard some of my pack call him.
And a moment later, I saw why he had come.
The leaves rustled unnaturally in the still air. The hush turned to a vibration of expectancy. The vampires, in particular, watched with upturned faces, red eyes sparkling.
The brute moved aside in deference as Prince Owen himself stepped into the clearing.
Chapter Thirteen
Charlie
