by Tanya Chris
He licked over the claiming bite, helping to heal it. The action kept his mouth busy when he couldn’t find words. Daisy’s hands covered his where they rested on his abdomen. For once, he seemed to be speechless too. They lay together, silent and awed, under a pile of satiny bedding in a four-poster bed in the master suite of a bordello. Happy.
Daisy canceled his evening appointment the next night so they could walk over to the town hall together. He was twitchy, his cheeks unnaturally bright and his eyes glossy. Quoitrel inspected him, concerned that the claiming was already interfering with his ability to do his job, but Daisy insisted he was fine, just a little hot. He refused to even wear a coat, despite the temperature being well below freezing. The thick blanket of snow that’d fallen last week had been trampled into submission in high-traffic areas, but it still lay thick around the buildings and between the trees, a sign that winter was here to stay.
The throne room at the palace was packed. Seemingly every wolf in town had come to participate. Angel and Devin were up front—Devin on his mini-throne, Angel standing on the steps talking to his husband and Gillis. He waved when he caught sight of them. Quoitrel would’ve liked to check in with him, but he worried about leaving Daisy alone. He put a hand on Daisy’s forehead.
“I’m fine,” Daisy insisted. “It’s just too hot in here. Too many wolves.”
“You’re going into heat.”
“Oh Goddess, you’re right.” Daisy brushed Quoitrel’s hand away to touch his own forehead. “This wasn’t supposed to happen for another week. I’m usually very regular.”
“It’s the claim.” He couldn’t help giving the claiming bite a fond lick. He didn’t want to mess with Daisy’s schedule, but he liked the confirmation that the claim had taken.
Up on the platform, Angel tapped the side of his neck, then flashed Quoitrel a smile. When the council filed in, he took a seat in the chair to the right of the throne. Head Alpha Marta swept into the room, and everyone went silent, eager to hear what was going on. She remained standing to deliver a summary of the situation they faced: a Western Pack army at their doorstep, additional troops arriving from the south, the Eastern Pack’s refusal to get involved.
“What about the Central Pack?” someone in the crowd asked.
“They’ve never been militarized, and they’re small—highly decentralized with a large at-risk population. Though they fully support what we’re trying to do, we can’t count on them to fight if it comes to war.”
“Then why should we fight?” another wolf shouted. “Why should we defend a bunch of foreigners if the other packs won’t even help?”
“Because it’s the right thing to do,” Marta said simply. “When we changed our laws to give all our citizens—alpha, beta, omega, Northern Pack or naturalized—equal rights, we agreed to give them equal protection.”
“I don’t remember voting for that,” a bitter voice said from way at the back of the crowd. “You’re asking our opinion now, but you didn’t ask it then.”
Marta flashed a look at Angel. He joined her at the edge of the platform.
“We’re trying to move toward a more democratic model, but allowing other packs to dictate to us is a step in the wrong direction. I know some of you would like to see my brother on the throne, but is this really how you want it to happen? Through outside interference? Marta intends to fight for us—for all of us—which is why I’ll be fighting with her.”
“And I say this isn’t our battle to fight.” That was Cyril, Devin’s right-hand rabble-rouser. He made his way onto the stage, taking a spot one step lower than the royal family. “There’s no need to have a war when all Head Alpha Harrod is asking us to do is respect the laws of his pack, which give alphas dominion over their omegas, and to enthrone Crown Prince Devin, who our own laws say is next in the line of succession. How is any of that worth a war?”
“You would allow our pack to be governed by Harrod and Lisol?” Gillis asked angrily.
“They just want us to stop interfering with their subjects—to allow other packs to enforce their own laws. Where’s the harm in it? Most of you won’t even notice the difference, but you’ll notice the difference if we go to war.”
The crowd murmured agreement, exactly as Quoitrel had feared. People were inherently selfish. They were bound to think of themselves first. And Cyril had done an excellent job pointing out where their interests lay. But Quoitrel couldn’t allow it to end like this, not after all the work Marta and Angel had done. If Cyril could make a speech, so could he. He pushed through the crowd and mounted the stairs, taking a spot at the same level as Cyril but on the opposite side.
“I’m an alpha,” he reminded his neighbors, “and my omega”—Great Moon, he liked saying that—“is from the Eastern Pack. We wouldn’t be directly affected by Harrod’s demands, but I stand with those who would be. I’m a wolf, not a coward, and what strength I have, I offer in service.”
“But did you see how many alphas they brought?” a shrill voice asked. “And how big they are?”
“We have Western Pack alphas too,” Ryker called out from the floor. He made his way onto the stage so they could be visually reminded of his size.
“As if only Western Pack alphas count.” Lars jostled Ryker good-naturedly as he took a place next to him. Lars was as Northern Pack as they came, and his roommate-slash-sex partner, Shade, represented the Southern Pack. The three of them standing side by side formed a rainbow of solidarity.
“Besides, who says alphas are the only ones who can fight?” Macy made her way onto the stage to join them. She might be a beta, but she’d had the fortitude to chew through her own leg when she’d been caught in a trap, and she was showing that same fortitude now. She gestured for her mate—the Southern Pack omega Donovan had been hired to kidnap—to join her. “According to Southern Pack law, Carmen and I aren’t mated. You’ve all smelled our bond. Is it less any valid than yours?”
“I’ll fight for you,” Benjy announced. The declaration coming from one of North Leland’s smallest and sweetest omegas sparked a laugh. “I will,” he said with fierce determination. “I don’t care how little I am. I have claws and teeth, and I’ve been training.” There was another laugh, but it was good humored, indicative of the affection they all had for the diminutive young wolf who’d arrived from the Hinterlands cowed and naïve then blossomed before their eyes. His mate, JT, pressed a proud kiss to his cheek.
“Omegas aren’t the only ones who’ve come here seeking sanctuary.” Donovan climbed the stairs with his alpha mate, Tarek, in tow. “I came to North Leland to enforce Southern Pack law, but you taught me better. I may be one of your newest citizens, but I’m also one of your most ardent. Head Alpha Marta, I go where you lead.”
“What do you say?” Marta asked the crowd. “All those in favor of standing firm together—”
“Your Excellency.”
Quoitrel let out an aggrieved breath. They’d been so close to a vote in their favor, but now the Senior Member of the council stepped forward to command the crowd’s attention. “The council has not yet had a chance to state its position.”
Marta acquiesced with a nod, and everyone shuffled around to make room for him. He gave Marta a deep formal bow, then made another to Devin who was the only one on the stage still sitting—all in a sprawl, as if he were already sulking over having lost. He straightened up when he realized everyone was looking at him and gave the Senior Member a nod as though his permission were needed.
“These displays of fidelity are, of course, inspiring,” the Senior Member began. “But they’re only half the story. For every foreign omega in North Leland who seems happy in an unorthodox mating, there’s a jilted mate or worried family back at home. Head Alpha Harrod came to us as a father—a father whose omega son has disappeared to who knows what fate. All he asked for was information—information which the royal family has but won’t share. If you look behind the noble spin and lofty speeches, what do you find? A father seeking justice and t
hose who would deny it.”
“Lies,” someone yelled from the back of the crowd. A Western Pack omega strode briskly through the opening the crowd made for him, trailed by Fortis and Keesh. Which meant this must be Owen.
“I realize most of you don’t know who I am, even though I lived here at the palace for a few weeks. I’m Owen, the one whose father is threatening war. And these are my mates, Keesh and Fortis, who I guess you know them already.”
Keesh gave a bright wave that was out of place in the heavily charged room. The crowd laughed nervously in response.
“Anyway.” Owen took a deep breath, as if only now realizing how many wolves he faced. “We just came from my father’s camp. He knows I’m okay, and he knows North Leland hasn’t been harboring me, but he’s still camped out on your border plotting war because this was never about me. But since he dragged me into the middle of it, I think you should hear my story.”
A ruffle of robes on the other side of the platform drew Quoitrel’s attention. At least Devin had the decency to look guilty.
“Okay, so like I said, I lived in the palace for a few weeks. My father sent me here to be claimed by Prince Devin, except it turned out Prince Devin didn’t really want to claim me. He just wanted to fuck me.”
There was a disapproving rumble from the crowd.
“He did fuck me,” Owen said, making the crowd grumble louder. “He knotted me. And then he told me he wasn’t going to claim me. After. And that’s who my father wants to put in charge of your pack. My father doesn’t care whether or not I’m happy. He only cares about controlling me. He thinks I’ve been ruined, but I think I’ve been saved. And the ones who saved me were wolves like you, who believed in omega rights and were willing to back up their words with their fangs.”
The crowd burst out in excited chatter, everyone explaining to each other what they’d just heard and what they thought about it. Marta stilled them by raising her arms.
“It’s been my honor to serve you these many years. It would be my shame to leave you in the hands of my son Devin. The wolves you see in front of you intend to fight. Who’ll join us? All in favor, say—”
The chorus of ayes came so fast and loud they drowned out her call for a vote, but the vote wasn’t unanimous. Quoitrel canvassed the crowd, cataloguing those who stood quiet and seething. The Northern Pack had a war ahead of them, and some of their opponents stood in their midst.
Chapter 13
Quoitrel struggled to work his way off the platform to get back to where he’d left Daisy, but Angel snagged him before he could break free.
“Marta’s quarters,” he shouted over the din.
“I need to find Daisy.” Quoitrel couldn’t see him, but he could smell him—that extra sharpness that foretold his coming heat. He never should’ve walked away from him.
“Bring him. The more heads the better.”
Quoitrel ducked away without making any promises. Fighting for his pack was important, but so was taking care of his omega. His nose led him across the room to where Daisy sagged against the wall, talking to a female omega with spiky blond hair.
“You okay?”
“It’s holding off so far.” Daisy’s sweaty hairline, revealed by an impromptu messy bun, told a different story. “This is Alice. She was on the fence about coming to work with me, but after that vote of confidence in favor of omega rights, she’s decided she’s definitely on board. And she’s willing to handle any gender, so she’s going to be super helpful.”
“Are you one of our customers, Sheriff?” Alice made suggestive eyes up at him, but before he could figure out how to respond, Daisy did it for him.
“He’s not a customer. He’s mine. Can’t you smell the bond?”
Alice wrinkled her nose. “Honey, you smell like heat. But message received. I’ll keep my paws off your alpha.” She made a mock clawing gesture, then sidled away.
“Sorry,” Daisy mumbled after her. “Sorry,” he repeated to Quoitrel who rushed to hook an arm around him when he started to slump. “We haven’t even talked about that. You would have every right to—”
“I don’t want to.” As if he could think about sex with anyone else while Daisy was in his arms smelling of heat. Or ever. “And it’s not my job, so no, I wouldn’t have the right. They’re completely different situations.” He paused. Daisy was only holding up about half his own weight. “I should get you home.”
“I’m fine, and you need to be here. We only have a couple of days to strategize.”
“You’re not yourself, little one.”
“You mean because I was a bitch to Alice over nothing? All right, guilty as charged. My emotions are running high. But you do need to be here, and I need to be with you, so just take me wherever you’re going.”
“Sweetheart.” Quoitrel kissed his omega on the forehead, feeling the heat of his fevered skin against his lips. Daisy was being brave, but the truth was that Quoitrel needed him to be brave, so he swept him up into his arms and shouldered his way through the dwindling crowd into the corridor that led to the residential section of the palace.
By the time they reached Marta’s quarters, her living room was already full, but Angel and Leo scooted over so he could keep Daisy in his lap. Owen was across the way with his two mates, and everyone else who’d spoken up was there too. Marta sat in an armchair she made look regal while Enid distributed drinks and Owen told JT, who was reclining on the floor near him, what it’d been like to live in the palace. JT kept asking questions about clothes and jewels and servants, and Owen kept trying to explain that none of that was worth it.
“It’s like living in a cage. Gild it however you like, it’s still a cage.”
“My cage was more like a cave,” Benjy said. “But it was still a cage.”
“Someone should lock them up,” Carmen said grumpily. “Let them try living in captivity and see how they like it.”
“We could lock them in the brothel.” Everyone laughed at Daisy’s suggestion. “No, really,” he insisted. “It’s a fortress, specifically designed to withstand alpha abuse.”
Quoitrel made eye contact with Angel. The idea had potential, and they needed a strategy beyond brazening it out. Despite the courageous do-or-die attitude in the throne room just now, anyone who’d read the scouting reports knew they were at a disadvantage, and though he’d never fought in a war personally, he remembered what he’d learned in History class. Shifters healed quickly, which meant they lived to fight again and again, which meant wars were long and gruesome and often won through an accumulation of atrocities. Towns were burned, omegas were kidnapped and raped, unprotected pups died. If there was a chance of ending this fight without bloodshed, they should take it.
“We could do that,” he said, addressing himself primarily to Angel. “Lure them into the brothel and lock them in there until they’re ready to negotiate.”
“Lure them in how?” Gillis asked.
“Engage and fell back. Let them think they’ve got us running.”
“And how do we avoid being locked in there with them?”
“I had an escape tunnel put in.” Daisy’s answer explained those displaced floor tiles Quoitrel had noticed on his first visit to his office. “I’ve been in this business a long time, and raids are a thing.”
“Good thinking.” Macy gave Quoitrel a hard look, even though he’d never raided anyone. “So we get them to pursue us into the brothel, making sure to stay far enough ahead of them that we have time to escape. Secure the tunnel behind us, and we’ve got a cathouse full of Western Pack alphas.”
“I don’t see how we’re going to catch more than a handful of them that way,” Gillis protested. “They’re not going to send their entire army charging into a brothel.”
“They might if they were chasing me,” Owen piped up. “I’m what they’re here for.”
“Me too,” Leo said.
“And me,” Daisy added.
“Why you?” Angel asked. “You’re not Western Pack.”
“Because he’s going into heat,” Leo answered for him. “Don’t pretend you can’t smell it. There’s a reason you’re sitting on your mother’s sofa with your dick hard.”
Angel crossed his legs. “If he’s going into heat, he ought to be somewhere safe.”
“I’m the best bait we’ve got.” Daisy’s insistence sent a shot of fear through Quoitrel’s chest. “Those alphas haven’t had a sexual outlet in weeks. They’re teeming with adrenalin. Put an omega in heat within smelling distance of them, and they’ll follow. Every last one of them.”
“Sweetheart, no.” It was a good idea. A brilliant idea. And a terrifying one.
“One day he claims you, the next he thinks he can stop you from getting yourself killed,” Daisy joked.
“The three of us, then,” Leo said. “Me, Owen, and Daisy. We’re the bait.”
When Angel nodded, Quoitrel’s stomach sank. He couldn’t argue. Angel was risking Leo; Fortis and Keesh were risking Owen. He had to be willing to risk Daisy. But he sure didn’t want to.
After a quick discussion, they decided the plan would be executed with only the people in the room—the ones they felt sure they could trust—and that they’d strike tonight while they had the advantage of surprise. Marta had been letting them hash it out between themselves up to that point, but she jumped in to take the lead in devising a specific strategy, using empty glassware to represent makeshift troops on the battlefield of her coffee table.
“Maybe this would help.” Enid appeared with what looked like a large sheet of plywood balanced in her arms. With Daisy blocking his view, Quoitrel couldn’t begin to guess what she was carrying until she placed it on top of the coffee table, which was hurriedly cleared to make room for a wooden construction nearly as large as the table itself.
