“You can’t put a time stamp on the healing process. It’s different for everyone,” Blaire said. I nodded, shifting my gaze to Wren. He held himself so still, but there were moments when that granite mask cracked just a little, revealing a small glimpse of pain behind his eyes. I hated knowing that there was nothing I could do to fix it.
At the pulse of a second, the tiny hairs on the back of my neck prickled as though I’d been electrocuted. My chest constricted and I looked up, catching Blaire’s expression across the table and knew she felt it too. Wren lifted his face, his eyes scanning the room until they settled on the far window that had a view of the parking lot.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Werewolf,” Blaire whispered, showing me her hand and the magic ring on her finger that was glowing bright aqua.
“Stay here.” Wren rose from the table in one fluid motion and eased his way to the front door before I could even blink.
I stood up. Blaire caught my wrist, eyes flashing up to mine. “You heard him, Quinn. He said to stay here.”
“Yeah, small chance of that happening,” I retorted as I yanked my arm free from her grip and started for the exit. I heard her sigh and knew she must have been right behind me as I opened the door. I scanned the lot and spotted Wren and another man near the dumpster next to the mouth of the alley. He was too far away for me to make out the details of his face, but I wondered if he was one of the werewolves we’d fought in the Hollow. If so, why had he chosen now to show his face in Silver Mountain?
“You don’t know what yer doin’,” Blaire scolded me as I started towards them. “It might be dangerous.”
“Blaire,” I spun to face her, “we are dangerous.”
Her lips pulled together in defeat, her scowl softening. “I know that,” she said. “But you still don’t know what you’re walking into.”
“I’ve been cautious my whole life and it’s never gotten me anywhere. I’m not sitting back and waiting to see what happens anymore.” I shook my head.
She held my gaze hard, and though I sensed her opposing thoughts, she chose to keep them to herself. “Fine, but I’m going with you.” She stepped in front of me and led the way around the side of the building to the mouth of the alley. The red bricks between the two buildings were crumbling at the base, weeds and grasses had sprouted through the cracks in the pavement, fanning over a stack of wooden crates.
The man standing next to Wren was straddling a big motorcycle. The chrome plates were gleaming in the morning sunlight, and the metal smelled hot mixing with the scent of exhaust fumes and leathers. He looked to be in his twenties with short spiky black hair, high cheekbones, and a square jaw. He was tall and sturdy-boned. Shards of glass from a broken bottle crunched beneath my boot, and the man turned his attention on me. His predatory black gaze dragged over every inch of my body, as if he were committing me to memory. The weight of his look caused a shiver to chase the length of my spine, but I stood my ground, raising my chin in the air.
“Friends of yours?” The man rumbled in a gruff tone.
Wren was looking at me hard, his mouth drawn in a tight line. I almost felt the heat rolling from his skin–saw the tension building in his shoulders. “Yes,” he replied evenly, not once breaking eye-contact with me.
The man swung his long leg over the bike and deliberately made his way over to where I was standing. I heard nothing aside from his heavy boots falling on the pavement. He towered over me, extended his hand, and leveled his eyes with mine. “I’m Ryker Donovan,” he informed me. He was handsome by male standards, but there was something cold about his gaze; I sensed he had an unforgiving nature.
“Quinn,” I replied, taking his hand firmly. “What brings you to Silver Mountain?”
His jaw tightened. A flash of surprise turned into amusement as his lips parted. He was staring at me like he couldn’t believe I’d had the audacity to speak to him. “I’m here on official business,” he decided to answer. A moment passed before he let go of my hand and reached for Blaire’s. Blaire, I noticed, was keeping her eyes averted from his face. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have other matters that require my attendance.” Ryker walked over to his bike, swung his leg over and kicked the stand back. “Remember what I said about tonight, Wren.” His mouth twisted into a leer as he pulled sunglasses out of his jacket pocket and slipped them over his cold, merciless eyes. “Bring your friends.”
Wren nodded once, and Ryker started his motorcycle. The engine roared, echoing down the alley. He swung the bike around and zoomed out of the parking lot. The air was too still. I glanced at Wren and saw that his hands were rolled into tight fists, mouth curling in anger.
“I told her to stay inside,” Blaire said. I twisted my gaze on her, scowling.
“You make it incredibly difficult to keep you safe.” His voice was controlled, but his irises were swirling with an electric current.
“Who was he?” I took a step forward, matching his tone.
“He’s the new Alpha Master of Thornwood,” Wren said, inching closer and closing the distance between us. I felt the heat radiating from his limbs, watched as his muscles rippled and twitched across his forearms.
Thornwood was at least an hour’s drive from here. It wasn’t exactly a reputable town. I’d passed through a few times, (on my way to somewhere else because no one visited Thornwood on purpose) taking note of the rusted chain-link fences and trash that littered the overgrown yards. Storefronts and houses bore the mark of teenage rebellion with tagged graffiti all over the walls. Thornwood had once been nice–one of the oldest towns in the mountains–but now its name was truly emblematic of its prickly atmosphere.
“Thornwood has a pack?” My eyes narrowed. This was news to me.
“Yes.”
“What did he want?”
“There’s not much that happens around these parts without Thornwood knowing. Ryker heard about Niall’s passing and wants to extend his condolences on behalf of the Thornwood pack. They’re holding a tribute service in his name at their Were bar this evening.”
My frown deepened. “Wait–how did Niall know these guys?”
“When I was a kid, the Thornwood pack and the Silver Mountain pack used to run together,” Wren explained. “The previous Alpha Master and my dad were friends.”
I heard what he was saying, but my brain was working in overtime; my thoughts bouncing around like an out-of-control racquetball. “Wren,” I breathed, “why haven’t you told me about them? I mean, what if Thornwood is in league with the Dark Witch?” I looked up at him, searching his eyes for an answer. “The wolves we fought in the Hollow–could they belong to Thornwood’s pack?”
“I don’t think so. The Thornwood pack hasn’t been involved with Silver Mountain in years,” he said. “They had an alliance with Niall when he was Alpha.”
“So what happened when your mom left with your whole pack?”
“Niall claimed Silver Mountain as his territory. That’s why my mother left and we found unclaimed territory in Washington. There’s a lot you don’t understand about my kind, Quinn. You don’t have to be an Alpha Master to claim a territory, but you can be challenged for it. Ryker is the son of Thomas Donovan. Thomas was the Alpha Master when Niall held this territory. Thomas made sure the alliance held after what happened with my mother and Reese,” Wren explained.
“But he’s gone now,” Blaire said in a quiet voice. She was looking at him in a way that made it clear I was missing something. “Which means…”
“That Silver Mountain is an unclaimed territory again,” Wren finished. The muscles in his forearms rippled over the bones.
I squeezed my eyes shut, shaking my head. None of this was making sense.
“Do you think Thornwood wants to claim Silver Mountain?” Blaire asked.
“Maybe,” Wren said.
“We can’t let that happen. The park warden is already on high alert. If other Weres move into the area, they could be killed,” I said. “We can’t risk exposure.”
“I know that. That’s why I’m going to speak with him tonight and figure out exactly what he wants.”
“And I’m going with you,” I said defiantly.
Wren clamped his jaw shut, the tendons bulging in agitation. “It’s not safe,” he snapped. His midsummer night eyes bore down on mine with pious intensity. His irises were enlarging, swirling with the colors of the harvest moon. The Change was coming on fast and I knew he’d Change right there in the lot if we didn’t stop him.
“Blaire–could you?”
“No,” Wren growled, balling his hands into fists as he fought it. “I appreciate what you did for me in the café, but don’t do it again.”
Stubborn assed werewolf, I thought.
“He marked her,” Blaire pointed out, eyes fixed on the ground. The wind was playing with her long spirals of hair, sweeping them back from her face. “You’ll just give him a reason to track her if you don’t bring her.”
A low growl bubbled up Wren’s throat, and when his lips parted, his canine teeth were extended.
“I’ll make sure she’s ready,” Blaire said. “You should go, now, before someone sees you.” Blaire wrapped her arm through the crook of my elbow.
Wren nodded, his summer eyes filled with a lightning charge. He turned for the mouth of the alley and slipped into the shade and melted into the shadows. I knew the forest was just on the other side. I saw the tops of the pine trees hovering over the building and knew he had slipped into the safety of the forest. I hated that he wasn’t in control–wished that it hadn’t been my fault this time.
“What do you mean Ryker marked me?”
“The way you postured,” Blaire said, “he thinks you’re a threat.”
“But I’m not a werewolf.” I looked up into her coal colored eyes.
“I don’t think that matters, lass. You’ve sure made a fine mess now.” There was no malice laced within her voice. Only sadness. I let her turn me away from the alley and back to the restaurant. I expected to feel fear, or anxiety, or a mixture of the two swirling through my gut, but I didn’t. I didn’t regret what I’d done. I was tired of hiding who I was and waiting in the shadows. I wasn’t some damsel in distress that needed saving. No… I was more than that. I was a force to be reckoned with.
Chapter Five
Thornwood
“What has Wren told you about his previous pack?” Blaire asked. She was sifting through the stack of CD’s Annabelle had on her desk (just about piled to the ceiling in height) next to her stereo. We were listening to a Kings of Leon soundtrack while Annabelle sprawled across her bedroom floor with trigonometry homework. I was lying on my back on top of her bed, holding the bent spoon I’d smuggled out of the restaurant up in the air, examining. I tried with both hands to get it to bend back to its regular shape, but the metal was not so malleable in my hands.
“Honestly not that much.” I sighed, rolling on my side. I’d tried broaching the subject of his pack on several occasions, but it was far too much of a tender topic and Wren had a tendency to shift the conversation elsewhere. The truth was that Wren was the first werewolf I’d ever met, and I didn’t know anything about them other than what I learned from Wren or heard in stories and legends. “He doesn’t like to talk about them,” I added, “or himself, really.”
Annabelle snorted. I peered over the edge of the bed and shot her a pointed look. “What?” she croaked innocently.
“Werewolves are pack-oriented creatures by nature,” Blaire chimed in. “It’s encoded in their DNA. You’ll experience that for yourself this evening. It’s best if you mind your own, though I know that appears to be a struggle for you.”
Annabelle snorted again.
“You really think I should have just stayed in the restaurant?” I propped myself up on an elbow. “What if Ryker had been one of the werewolves we’d fought against in the Hollow? Suppose there had been more than one. I couldn’t just let him walk out there and risk his life,” I told her, flopping back onto the pillows.
“He’s just trying to keep you safe,” Blaire said pointedly. She placed the CD she was holding back on the desk and crossed her arms over her chest.
“But I’m not some helpless being that can’t take care of herself,” I countered. “I told you. I’m not willing to sit back and just let things happen when I know there’s something I can do to make a difference.”
Blaire narrowed her eyes. “Did it ever occur to you that perhaps your presence was putting Wren in danger?”
“No.” I frowned. “How could it?”
“Because you don’t know anything about werewolves!” Her eyes bulged from their sockets. “They’re not programmed like humans, Quinn. I don’t know if you realize this or not, but Wren doesn’t belong to a pack which means he is in danger. Out there–” she pointed out the window with a long, sharp fingernail “–he’s the lone wolf, and lone wolves don’t last very long when they’re living in such close quarters to another established pack.”
My brows furrowed and my lips parted. Even Annabelle looked up from her homework and listened intently. “But he’s just one wolf,” I said in a small voice.
“One wolf that belongs to no one,” Blaire pointed out. “The wolves that are part of the Thornwood pack have already established their loyalty to the Alpha Master. He knows he can control them, and loyalty, as I said before, is predominant. It’s already in their DNA. If one of the wolves goes rogue, the Alpha Master banishes it or kills it for breaking an oath. And since Wren belongs to no one, he has no allegiance to the Alpha Master, which means–”
“–That he is a threat,” I finished for her, “because he could challenge the Alpha Master for his position.”
“Exactly,” Blaire said, tossing her hands up.
“But he wouldn’t do that,” Annabelle said. “Would he?”
“Of course not,” I answered.
“That’s not the point,” Blaire said. “Wren needs to be on his game and if he’s worried about you, then he’s not staying focused. Like it or not lass, this is a matter of life and death. He needs to stay sharp.” She leveled her eyes with mine.
I remembered the fight in the forest. It had taken the three of us to conquer the six werewolves that were working for the Dark Witch. I didn’t know how many Weres were in the Thornwood pack, but I knew the odds–even with our supernatural abilities–weren’t exactly in our favor. I squeezed my eyes shut, exhaling sharply as I pinched the bridge of my nose.
“Finally realizing the mess you’ve made, eh?”
“Blaire,” Annabelle snapped, “so not helping.”
“She’s right,” I said. “I screwed up.” Big time. I’d let my anger fuel my resolve and cloud my judgement. I was so tired of watching the people I loved get hurt, so tired of sitting back and just letting it happen. Just because I was powerful, didn’t mean that I was All-Powerful–and certainly not without the help of Blaire and Wren backing the force behind the Trinity. “So what happens now?” I breathed out.
“We need to work on your appearance for one thing,” Blaire said. “You need to blend in and keep your head down.”
I nodded.
An hour later I was dressed in a pair of black slim-fitted jeans, a low-cut white tank, and a sleeveless black vest–we’d borrowed from Caitlyn’s closet. Lucky for me, she’d already left for SMU so as long as I got it back in one piece, she’d never know it was missing. I kept m
y black military boots on, and Annabelle applied a thick coat of black mascara and eyeliner.
“You should keep your hair down,” Blaire said. “It gives you a strong look.” She fluffed my dark ringlets below my shoulders.
“What about this?” Annabelle, who was enjoying playing dress-up with me, held up a tube of red lipstick and waved it like a magic wand.
“I draw the line there,” I said firmly, pushing her hand back from my face. “I don’t even recognize myself with all this heavy eye makeup; the least you can do is spare me the torture of lipstick.”
“How about a compromise instead?” Blaire held up an alternative tube of matte lipstick that was a more earthy-mauve color.
I sighed.
“Tuck in your amulet,” Blaire instructed. “It’s paramount they don’t find out you’re a witch. There. Now you’re ready.”
“And let’s go over the plan one more time, just to be clear,” Annabelle said. “If your dad calls, I’ll tell him you went to the airport with Blaire to pick up her sister, and then you’re staying the night with me to finish a biology assignment.”
“Right.” I nodded.
“And if my parents ask, you’re staying over at Blaire’s to help get her sister settled.”
“But really, I’ll be in Thornwood with a pack of werewolves because I can’t keep my big mouth shut,” I added.
“Precisely.” Blaire snickered and squeezed my shoulders. She was looking at me in the reflection of the mirror on Annabelle’s dresser. “Only speak when spoken to, and keep your head down. Being around a pack is like being in an alternate universe.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Because,” she said, “I once had a Were for a lover.”
My eyebrows shot to my hairline. “What happened?” Annabelle asked.
“The short version–witches and werewolves don’t mix–unless of course you’re the descendants of Luiseach and Conan.” She winked at me.
The Calling of the Trinity (Trinity Cycle Book 2) Page 5
