I roll out of bed. Grumpily. I pull on some clothes and then make my way out of Ty’s bedroom and into his living room, where I sat with him as a young girl so long ago. I can see the ghost of her if I squint—that girl who had been told she was a woman that night. A girl who’d believed what she was told, had been determined to do the right thing, and was so relieved, eventually, when she realized that Ty had protected her from herself that night as well as everything else the pack would have accepted as no more than his due.
Lucky little ghost,I think, and let her go.
I move over to the door, but I don’t open it. The men are still loud out there. And there’s no need to insert myself into situations thatdon’t involve me directly. Not when I can gather information without drawing fire instead.
I can only catch snippets from the other side of the thick door, but I get the gist of it. Actual fights have broken out over the stealing accusations now, and all I can think is that this is exactly what I was telling Ty last night. Territorial wolves are too easily manipulated—and I’m more certain by the moment that the same someone, orsomeones, is behind it.
I just can’t figure out who.
“I don’t care what day it is,” one of the wolves in the hall is snarling. “If I think you’re messing around with my ability to protect what’s mine? I’m ripping your fucking head off.”
“I know you don’t mean my head,” I hear Ty drawl.
In that dark, dangerous way of his that I’m sure sets many necks to prickling.
“Let’s take this into church,” I hear Connor say, always the voice of reason. “Instead of shrieking in the halls like a bunch of fucking banshee bitches.”
That characterization draws an immediate unfavorable response, obviously, but it also gets them moving.
I wait until I hear the voices fade off, presumably back into the tunnel that leads to church, because I don’t want to deal with any pack drama just yet. Not when Ty and I have so much more than meredramalined up for later. When I can’t hear them, or sense them in any way, I slip out of Ty’s den, head for that secret entrance, and treat myself to a chilly morning run.
I loop around Jacksonville a few times, aware of other wolves taking similar solitary runs in the hills. I’m not the only one getting the energy out before a long solstice night. I scent each of them, but nothing stands out. An unmated female from the British Columbia pack. A pair of young males, still mostly cubs. An older mated male and his young.
I give them all a wide, respectful berth so we can all enjoy a little time away from the gathering. Then I make my own path through thefreshly fallen snow in the forest that surrounds Winter’s house. As I go, I keep my eye out for any other tracks. Any hint that there’s someone else out here. Whether guard or enemy, I’m not picky.
But I could be the only creature alive on Winter’s land this morning. The woods are still. Not even the rustling of trees or other animals to disturb the early-morning peace.
It doesn’t feel like peace to me, I’ll admit. It feels a lot more likewaiting. Like a hushed, caught breath.
I head to my cottage and make a trip around its perimeter. I don’t find any new carcasses, though I’m not sure that means they weren’t left here. I can smell the faint hint of blood, not old enough to be the sacrifices I saw myself. I suspect that what new mutilated creatures were left here were cleared away by Ariel’s minions, or even Savi herself.
There’s nothing I can do about that, so I lock myself inside the cottage and sit for a minute on the edge of my bed. I’m going to miss my windows. I’m going to miss the skylight above that lets the stars in. I’m even going to miss my tiny shower that Ty always referred to as a torture device. I’mreallygoing to miss my wall of books, because there are no bookshelves in Ty’s den. The walls are too craggy, having been dug out by the claws of kings long past who all had better things to do than read.
I’m going to miss my little transitional life here. These few, strange months.
“It’s okay,” I assure myself, once and then again. “What’s coming is better.”
What’s coming is going to be the best yet. Or it will be the end of us. Either way, my time here is coming to an end.
I soak in the hot water in my narrow shower, wrap my hair in a towel when I get out, and dress in an outfit that I think best expresses my commitment to Ty and the new order I feel certain he’ll be ushering in tonight. That means a shirt with a low V-neck that shows off my tattoos. Spells and incantations wound around my arms. Ty’s paw print between my breasts that’s marked me for years now.
On New Year’s Eve I’ll get another one, like a hand around my throat. Indicating my claim and my crown at a glance.
I find the very idea makes me feel shivery again.
I pull on my favorite pair of festive jeans, which is to say, kick-ass black. I sink my feet into some motorcycle boots that I think once belonged to my mother and have definitely done some kicking in their day. I throw some shit into my hair to make it wave even more dramatically, and then I study myself in the mirror. He’s going to be the king of everything, and I’m going to be the queen that stands by his side.
Not behind him. Not beneath him.
Not unless I’m naked, anyway.
I shrug on the leather biker jacket that I know Ty likes best. I study myself in my mirror, and I look like a grade-A biker bitch, hot and tattooed and exactly who Ty deserves.
Will I also infuriate a lot of the old guard who like their mates to look soft? Damn right I will. That makes it even better.
Will I irritate a lot of the women, too? So many of them are encouraged to stay home with the babies and let the biker side of things get taken care of by thebittenwomen who are more than happy to ride bitch and suck dick all day long.
Yes,I think. Yes, I will irritate them. But maybe, when Ty—and, hell, my own brothers—begin to show these packs a better way to live, I’ll inspire them, too.
