Of course, neither of them had a shaman — and even though I’d been sort-of allied with Adam for months, that gave me a little bit of pleasure amidst the fear that we were all about to die.
Shock at the Kimballs’ presence whispered through our little group like a ripple in a pond.
I could practically feel the tension rolling off of Ian; he was ready to lash out at the slightest provocation, I could tell, and I hoped Matthew or Nate could keep him in line. We were outnumbered. And I was still fucking manacled, unable to do a goddamn thing about it. Without my magic, I was basically useless. I could fight well enough in my own weight class, sure, but I was half the size of these goons and wasn’t an alpha. I didn’t stand a chance against any one of them.
Parker stopped directly across from Matthew about six feet away, still smirking. His eyes flicked to me for a second, and what I saw in them chilled my blood. If he got his hands on me, my life wouldn’t be worth living.
Without even meaning to, I moved just a little closer to Matthew, craving the warmth and strength of him. He was all that stood between me and the rapes and torture Parker would dish out.
Matthew shifted slightly at my side. What the fuck? Body language was everything to werewolves in a face-off like this. Was he going to show weakness in the very first moment?
But…no, it was on purpose. When I glanced to the side to see what the hell he was doing, I saw that instead of being unable to meet Parker’s gaze, he was…fuck, he was shifting his attention to Tyler. He wasn’t looking at Parker at all. I started to get an idea of what he was doing, and my heart raced with something between fear, admiration, and arousal. It was such an asshole move. Petty, clever, and perfectly calculated to press every one of Parker’s buttons.
“I assume you’re aware that we’re at war with the Kimball pack,” Matthew said — to Tyler. Clearly, and unmistakably, to Tyler. His voice was confident and strong, the alpha in it reverberating in every word. “By bringing them onto my territory uninvited and unasked, you’re declaring hostile intentions. Explain yourself.”
Tyler gaped at him, looked at Parker, and then dropped his eyes submissively to the ground and stumbled back a step as Parker went an ugly shade of brick-red from his hairline to his collar, his fists clenching.
“Why the fuck are you talking to him?” Parker demanded furiously. “I’m Parker Taft, the leader of the Taft pack!”
“Oh, you’re the pack leader? All right,” Matthew said, managing to hit a pitch-perfect note of mild surprise mingled with indifference. Gods, I’d underestimated him again. I was so tired of that. Matthew shrugged. “You explain, then.”
“Of course I’m the fucking pack leader,” Parker snarled, his eyes flashing and his fangs dropping. Oh, fuck, this was beautiful. Matthew was playing him like a cheap violin. “Why would you think — and I can bring whoever I fucking want to get back my mate you kidnapped, you son of a bitch!”
“If I kidnapped him, then what was he doing working with the Kimball pack for months on end?” Matthew retorted. “He came to me unmated, and any shaman would be able to verify it. You have one minute to get off my territory and take them with you, or I’ll consider it a declaration of war and remove you myself.”
“The fuck you will,” Parker hissed, taking a menacing step forward. “I’ll take my mate with or without your permission, and if I leave you bleeding in the road no one would blame me. And no one would know,” he finished, baring his teeth.
Ian and Matthew both took a step to meet him, Ian putting himself between Parker and Nate and Matthew between Parker and me. The councilmembers to Matthew’s right were squaring off, too, and I braced myself. If this came to a fight, did I stay out of the way or stick to Matthew? Either one might fuck up my chances of staying alive.
But…I could run. The thought crept up on me. If they kept Parker and his goons busy, I could run. Get far enough away to find someone to bribe or fuck into getting these manacles off, and then never look back.
“Ahem,” said a light voice from the sideline. Parker spun, his claws sprouting, and his jaw dropped.
Well, I couldn’t blame him. I started too, having almost forgotten Fenwick and Dor were there until they decided to drop their don’t-look-at-me illusion — and they were kind of a jaw-dropping pair.
“I’d know,” Fenwick said cheerfully into the tense silence.
“Oh, shit,” someone said in the background — Colin Kimball, I was pretty sure.
“Who the fuck are you?” Parker demanded. “And who the fuck is that?”
“I’m an impartial observer,” Fenwick said, “who’s going to make sure you’re strung up by your furry little toes if you start another war right now, especially on such shaky grounds, while this neighborhood’s still enjoying the aftermath of the battle a few days ago.” He flicked his cold, too-knowing eyes to the Kimballs and shot them a pointy-toothed not-smile that would’ve given most normal people screaming nightmares.
Bill Kimball stood his ground, although he wavered a little; his son and his men took a step back, looking like they wanted to scramble into their SUV and roll up all the windows.
“That was Hawthorne who took your vamps,” Bill said defensively. “We had nothing to do with it.”
“The hell you didn’t, and don’t think that’s over,” Dor put in. “And since you asked so politely, I’m not necessarily an impartial observer, even though he is. I’d be just as happy as a combatant.” He wasn’t smiling. If he had, I thought I might have broken for one of the cars, and he was kind-of-sort-of on the same side as me, this time around. “Your neck looks like a sturdy target for practicing my swing, Kimball. It’s all in the shoulder for decapitations, did you know that?”
I heard Nate snicker on Ian’s other side. Apparently he was feeling confident in Dor’s willingness to take the Armitages’ side. I wasn’t so sure. I thought he might just be indulging his hobby of fucking with people.
All the color had drained out of Parker’s face, but not in a frightened way: he had that white-around-the-lips look that I knew meant he was violently angry. As I’d suspected, he wasn’t taking Fenwick and Dor seriously. Oh please, oh please, I begged the universe. Please let him keep not taking them seriously and say something truly insulting. I’d regret not having popcorn, but on the other hand, I’d be too busy running for it to really enjoy the show. I could probably steal one of the vehicles before anyone could get hold of me. I might not be heavily muscled enough for this kind of fight, but that made me quicker than hell.
“This isn’t any of your business,” Parker growled. “I knotted and bit this little bitch months ago, and his ass is mine.” He took a step forward, reaching out as if he meant to take me then and there.
Matthew moved a step to put me completely behind him, which was nice and all, except that now I couldn’t see what the fuck was going on.
Ian stepped forward by his side. A low chorus of growls rose up, emanating from nearly every were present.
A slithering, whispering sound interrupted, and I peeked over Matthew’s shoulder. Dor had drawn his sword, and the Kimballs were taking slow steps backward, looking a little green around the gills. Parker and Matthew were right in each other’s faces, staring at each other like no one else existed. Parker’s eyes were glowing. The tension was thick enough to slice through with one of their extended claws.
Maybe they should just fuck? That compromise worked for me. Since they were both alphas, they’d probably kill each other in the process, and either way — well, I really would need popcorn for that.
Bill Kimball cleared his throat. “Taft,” he said. “This isn’t the time.”
“Give me my property,” Parker said, as if Bill hadn’t spoken. “Or I’ll kill you right here. That asshole with the too-big sword doesn’t scare me.”
“Mates aren’t property, according to the pack law amendment of 1807,” Jennifer said, her tone as smooth and pleasant as it had been when she was having a chat in the pack house. I could see why
she seemed to have been put in charge while Matthew was out of commission. “You have the right to petition the Pack Alliance Council for a shaman to verify your claim. You have the right to then petition for a mediator to resolve any differences between you and your mate, should he refuse to —”
“Fuck you and the Pack Alliance Council,” Parker spat. Literally. Flecks of spittle reached all the way to me, and I quickly ducked back down again to let Matthew take the brunt of it. I shuddered all over. Gods, his bodily fluids anywhere near me again…I wanted a bath, a thousand baths, and I wanted to kill him. “The PAC hasn’t been relevant for decades. Go ahead and petition them once I’ve taken my mate and ripped you all to pieces. They won’t do shit, because my pack’s powerful enough to matter.”
Unfortunately, he was right. World War II had been the last gasp of truly international — well, anything, as it turned out. Machine guns? Fine, supernaturals could just avoid them, heal from the wounds, or live in more remote places. Atom bombs? Not so much. A huge coalition of supernaturals of all stripes got together, eliminated the existential threat along with a few dozen world leaders, and reorganized the world in the process. Patchwork local governments had been the result, and larger groups like the PAC weren’t all that helpful if you didn’t already have clout of your own. Not that I gave two shits about politics, but I knew I was on my own in the world — and so were the Armitages.
“And Fenwick’s powerful enough to matter,” Matthew said, his voice a raspy snarl. He was losing his self-control. Fuck. “You can fight me here and now to settle it while he observes to make sure there’s no interference. Or you can fuck off.”
The two councilors both turned as one, protesting — but it was too late. A challenge like that couldn’t be withdrawn.
And Parker was — stepping back? Wait. Alarm bells were jangling so loudly in my skull I was surprised no one else could hear them. He was still furious, but that smug smile blooming on his face didn’t bode well.
“I accept,” he said. “And Tyler will fight for my pack.”
Matthew’s fists clenched. “You’ll fight for yourself, you coward —”
“It’s my right to designate my second,” Parker bellowed over him. “And I’ve chosen Tyler. Have your brother fight for you if you want, I don’t give a fuck.”
He did give a fuck, though. He wanted Matthew to fight Tyler. Those alarms were whooping shrieks now. Something was wrong.
Matthew had let go of my arm somewhere along the way, but I was still pressed up against his back, keeping contact. I wrapped a hand around his bicep and gave it a squeeze. “Matthew, don’t do it,” I hissed as quietly as I could, hoping only he, or maybe he and Ian, would be able to hear. “If he wants you to, it’s the wrong move.”
Matthew shook me off. “If you think you’re too weak to take me, I’ll fight him,” Matthew ground out. “Stand back then. Where it’s safe. You probably wouldn’t give me much of a fight, anyway.”
“Matt, come on,” Ian was arguing. “I’m your enforcer, it’s my job —”
“This isn’t the time for posturing,” Jennifer put in, sounding furious. “This wasn’t the plan —”
“Fighting you is beneath me,” Parker said, with an arrogant lift of his chin. He was pissed, though, I could tell, it was obvious…why wasn’t he rising to the bait? “Tyler, you’re up.”
In a moment of strange synchronicity, I turned my head just as Nate turned too. We stared at each other with matching What the fuck? expressions on our faces. “There’s something wrong here,” Nate mouthed to me. Well, no shit. I grimaced back. There was, but there wasn’t a fucking thing either one of us could do about it.
Matthew stepped forward to meet Tyler, and I hung back by Ian’s side, my heart doing a triple-time jig in my chest.
Everyone else took a few steps back, clearing a circle for the combatants. Fenwick was frowning but relaxed, Dor was leaning on his sword like a nineteenth-century dandy with his cane and looking mildly interested, and Jennifer and Paul were muttering to each other. Paul had his phone out. Probably texting the rest of the pack council.
Ian looked like he was about to explode, but Nate had him in hand, whispering urgently in his ear.
And on our side, that left me, standing by myself like the last kid to be chosen for a game.
Now that Matthew wasn’t right in front of me and Parker had withdrawn to the other side of the clear space between our two groups, Parker had a clear line of sight to me.
Our eyes met. His glowed with rage and lust and avid greed, like he was picturing holding me down and forcing me to his will. And making me hurt for all the trouble I’d caused him by running away. He licked his lips, slowly, and made a gesture with one hand that couldn’t be misinterpreted.
I shuddered and shot Matthew a sidelong glance. He was my hope here — and I had no idea if he could even fight worth a damn. Ian was known as a brutal fighter, and he generally took on the pack’s fights as Matthew’s enforcer and second. Could Matthew hold his own? What the fuck would happen if he couldn’t? If I didn’t need to be alive to keep him alive, would his pack just hand me over?
They might — or they might fight Parker and his goons and then kill me themselves. That would honestly be better, since it’d be quick.
Matthew had to win this fight. He had to.
He stood still, not posturing, not giving anything away. Tyler stepped forward to meet him, baring his teeth. His claws were out but he didn’t show any sign of shifting fully. Most weres didn’t, in fights like this; a half-shift gave a good balance between power and damage-dealing ability and still being able to grapple if necessary. A full shift was better for hunting, or long-distance running, or stealth, than it was for a fight.
There was something wrong about Tyler, now that I looked at him more closely. Something…off. I couldn’t put my finger on it.
Something magical? Maybe. Fuck these manacles. It was like being blind and deaf, being deprived of senses I’d possessed since I was a child.
I turned to Nate, hating that I needed to depend on him for anything but knowing he was most likely to be able to interpret whatever I was not-seeing, but as I opened my mouth, it was already too late.
With a roar of challenge, Tyler leapt forward and slashed his claws at Matthew’s neck.
Chapter 8
Cheats Never Prosper
Almost too quickly for me to follow, Matthew ducked under Tyler’s swipe and came up with his own claws extended, slashing across Tyler’s belly. He connected, but Tyler lurched back quickly enough to confine the damage to his shirt.
Matthew twisted into another attack, more quickly than I’d expected given his bulk, going for Tyler’s shoulder with his left hand. That drew blood; droplets spattered from Tyler’s shoulder, and I heard the faint scrape of claws against bone. Tyler growled in pain and staggered back. Matthew’s claws stuck for a split second, though, and that was enough: Tyler lashed out, raking his claws down Matthew’s extended arm.
Crimson blood soaked through Matthew’s white t-shirt, spreading like ink. Matthew took a step back and shook his head as if to clear it.
When he threw himself back into the fight, his movements were slower. Noticeably slower. And he was still bleeding — he wasn’t healing.
And Parker was grinning, his eyes fixed on Matthew’s blood.
“Something’s wrong,” Ian said at my side. Well, no shit, Sherlock.
He moved as if to intervene, but Nate caught him by one arm and Jennifer dodged in front of me to grab him by the other arm and around his waist. “You can’t,” Jennifer said, quick and low. “You know you can’t. If you get in the middle Matthew forfeits.”
I sidestepped behind Jennifer and closer to Paul to get my view back. Sweat dripped down my spine. Matthew was staggering, keeping his guard up as best he could, but getting his ass kicked. Tyler swiped and swiped again, avoiding getting in too close because Matthew outweighed him by a lot, but doing damage every time. Blood ran in rivulets down
Matthew’s arms and stained the front of his shirt.
His reaction time was fucked. Someone was using dark magic to cheat, and if my life and freedom hadn’t been on the line I might have respected them for it, because it seemed to be working like a charm.
“Finish him off quickly, Tyler,” Parker drawled. “Show some respect for the Armitage pack leader.”
Gravel flew as Ian tried to shake Jennifer off, and then Dor lunged forward and caught him by the back of the neck. The Kimballs were smiling, Parker was laughing, and I was poised to run, to try to seize my last few moments of liberty on my own terms — and then Matthew stumbled back out of Tyler’s reach and looked up.
Our eyes met. I’d have expected fear, or rage, or pain. But he looked at me levelly, calmly, like he had it all under control. And then he smiled, just a little bit, and slumped, his arms falling out of a guard position. Like he was too weak to hold them up for even a second longer, or like he was — playing it up for effect.
Tyler fell for it, howling his triumph and diving right into Matthew’s trap, going for Matthew’s neck with his descended canines. Matthew’s right arm came up like lightning, and as Tyler grappled him and bent to his neck, Matthew sank his claws so deeply into Tyler’s side that half his forearm was embedded in Tyler’s guts.
It was one of the grossest, most wonderful things I’d ever seen. For a moment they froze like that, their faces inches apart. Matthew was smiling, a bloody baring-of-teeth. I couldn’t see Tyler’s face, but he started to convulse, and he choked blood all over Matthew’s front.
Matthew jerked his arm free with a hideous squelch, with something that had probably been important to Tyler’s bodily functions clenched in his hand. He stepped back. Tyler toppled like a tree. Matthew dropped whatever he was holding — I wasn’t particularly squeamish, but I also didn’t want to look too closely — onto Tyler’s prone body.
Captive Mate (Mismatched Mates Book 2) Page 7
