Casey
I slam the doorof my crappy rust bucket of a truck and grind my teeth, wishing that noxious, sweet scent would disappear from my day and, for once, just once, leave me the hell alone. Why is it that on days with perfectly blue skies—where the sun is warm, not hot, the wind is lifting my hair, urging me to walk to the distant horizon and not look back, those perfect days where anything is possible, and I can almost forget the pain of my life—so why, why can my family always be trusted to show up and make sure to ruin it?
“Sister, you’re here.” Her voice demands my obedience; the pack hierarchy prevents me from ignoring the alpha of our pack, though I desperately want to. But my nature ensures I never have to obey, which is one secret I never want to reveal. I’d never get out of the cage if they found that out. She clicks her tongue to get my attention. Nails down a chalkboard for the rest of my life would be an agreeable trade for not having to do this with her today.
I stare past my reflection, watching as she approaches, knowing that continuing to leave my back exposed makes me look arrogant or ignorant. Weak.
I look wild and half feral, my eyes are hard chips of blue hostility that I smother. The smiling mask I wear for them slips over my expression, and I hate myself a little bit more.
I don’t look like a wolf.
With a prayer for divine intervention—you know, a tornado, cyclone, meteor, anything—I turn around.
She does look wolf-like with her angular face, her gorgeous eyes with long lashes and big pouty lips. Cindel is small and compact, tiny, delicate, with a hand span waist, tits thatguys talk about at the pub and long blonde hair. She’s the perfect alpha, the perfect bitch to lead Pack Foster into the future.
My sister is every damn thing I’m not. I’m what I’ve heard referred to as a ‘solid unit’. I have curves and muscles, but I work hard up on my mountain, and it shows. I’m taller and not at all like the women who seem to have drunk from the same beauty fountain down here in Beacon Falls. But, then again, I wear five layers of shirts, jeans, boots, and can slug a fucker faster than you can blink, and when I hit you, I’m breaking that jaw.
I might not be able to fight a wolf…but I can handle a man just fine.
“Cindel. How lovely to see you. I’d have dropped in to see the family, but I gotta get back home before the storm comes.” Perfectly nice and reasonable answer with no note that can be called hostile. I might get out of this peacefully if I can just keep the antagonism out of my tone.
It’s a hard ask, but I do need to get home, so I try harder today than I normally would.
Her eyes flicker to the truck behind me, and she wrinkles her nose. She even looks cute doing that, too bad she’s evil to her rotten core. Her gaze floats back to me. Assessing. Judging. Trying to figure out what weak point she can scrape open and make bleed today.
“When will you be back?”
She demands as if she has a right to know, and I guess she does, but obedience never did come easy to me.
I shrug. “Spring, maybe.” I hope.
Cindel stares at me, hard. A flicker of evil joy, and I know I’m not going to like what comes next.
“I want you here for the gathering.”
The gathering. It has a connotation of doom around it in my head. The pack gathers during certain seasons to celebrate their mastery and brilliance. It’s really just a fuckfest and a way for the wolves to fight until their hierarchy is established. Completely unnecessary in this day, but my pack hails from the barbaric Stone Age.
I bite back the instant rejection. There is one place I certainly won’t be this month, and it’s at the pack gathering. No way, no how. Never, ever. “I’ll try.”
“No try, Casey. Be there. Alpha orders.”
The alpha command hits me and rolls off. The years of pretending their stupid wolf commands work on a reject like me have turned me into a perfect actress. Since my wolf never made its presence known, I’ve been outcast, shunned, and outright hated. I’ve come to terms with my lot in life, but cutting ties from the Foster pack has been almostimpossible. When I leave, their allies hunt me down and return me to the borders. I have no escape.
Cindel smiles. It’s deadly and full of malice. This is the wolf who slit her best friend and biggest competition’s throat. Her eyes gleam gold, the wolf rising to the surface.
I think that constant inbreeding has made some of the Pack Foster wolves insane, but that’s just based on their psychopathic behaviour and the way they just fuck at random with anyone.
Cindel has wanted me dead since forever. There’s no other reason. She just doesn’t like me. I must never give her a reason to follow the threat through, especially as she’s the alpha now. I’m defenseless against the might of the pack.
“It’s time to find you a mate.”
Blood drains from my head so fast I think I might faceplant the footpath. I manage to keep myself upright as a mocking smile creeps over her lips, curving them delicately upwards. She knows she’s rattled me; rattled is too paltry a word. Ruined me?
A mate? I can’t, won’t mate. Especially within the pack, I’d rather do the tango with a venomous snake and die in agony. Hands down, it’s an easy choice to make. The wolves of Pack Foster are…corrupt, vile pigs who get off on hurting women and treating them like dogs. The women aren’t much better.
“Your dad misses you.” Lies. “And Mother and I were talking.” Plotting, more like. “We think it’s time for you to come back home, to the pack. Have a mate.” Hell no. “Have some children.” Over my dead body. “Jonas has shown some interest in taking you, despite…” she looks me up and down, “well, everything.”
Jonas? Jonas! He’s her mate…which means they’ve decided I’m only fit to be a breeder. Shackled to an alpha by a one-way bond, used for sex and breeding until I’m no good, and then thrown in the fighting pits for entertainment. There is no worse a fate.
