Hungry Like a Wolf (18 page)

Honor swore. “What did you really come here to say, then? That I should just give up and step aside and make way for a man to come forward and do my job for me? If that’s what you’ve been trying to tell me, uncle, just go ahead and say it. I’m a big girl. I can take it.”

Hamish swore right back. “It doesn’t really sound like you can, Honor Strength. What part of what I’ve said sounded to you like I’d rather have some hotheaded, loudmouthed asshole for an alpha than you? Was it the part where I called them morons? Or later, where I compared them to wormy apples? Hell, girl, I’m on your side, but I’m trying to tell you, you need to open your eyes and see what’s coming for you. I know your daddy taught you never to walk into a challenge circle unprepared, but you’ve been walking around here like you’ve already won all the battles. Did you really think you could get away with it being that easy? That someone wouldn’t dig up all our oldest and ugliest traditions, no matter how you—or the rest of the pack, for that matter—really feel about them? Admittedly, the Alpha Mating Rite isn’t the prettiest of our legacies, but it exists, and I guarantee you it’s going to come up at this Howl.”

Not the prettiest of our legacies.

Now that was an understatement to end all understatements. As proud as Honor might be of her heritage at the best of times, the Mating Rite did not qualify as the best of times. It qualified as one of those times when it sucked to be a female in a culture where masculine traits like strength and speed and stubborn stupidity were valued above everything else. It qualified as something out of her worst nightmares.

“It’s archaic,” she felt compelled to point out, but the protest sounded weak even to her own ears. She knew her uncle was telling her the truth, and she knew she had no hope in hell of preventing the future he’d just described. “No one in their right mind could think we should still be carrying on a tradition of condoned rape in this day and age.”

“I hear that the Silverback Clan ran a mate hunt just last year,” Barney threw in, careful to keep his gaze from meeting those of the others. “The alpha and a bunch of other prime males chose mates that day, by running them down in Central Park and fucking them where they caught them. And these were city wolves. It might seem archaic when we talk about it, but I bet that when the males carried their mates out of the woods over their shoulders, it just seemed real.”

Honor shivered. Her arms wrapped around herself as if warding off the cold, but she still hadn’t noticed the ambient temperature. This chill came from the inside.

“This is the modern world,” she said. “Our females are allowed rights equal to those of the males in the pack. They get to vote on issues where the opinion of the pack is weighed. We educate them alongside the males. They live in a world outside their homes, have lives and careers of their own. They’re treated as equal members of our culture. And yet you say that when a female alpha calls a Howl to assume her rightful place at the head of the pack, that pack will refuse to grant her their obedience unless she has a mate to protect her in case she turns out to be too weak? That’s just frickin’ asinine!”

“It’s the truth,” Hamish said.

She pushed out of her chair to pace the length of the small room. She hated to be still when she needed to think. She had to pace and prowl and roam around. Lupines always thought best on their feet. “I don’t agree. I think that things are changing all around us, and it’s time this pack kept pace with the world we live in. We need to change, especially when this is the alternative some of our males come up with. We can’t keep clinging to the old ways like this, especially when the old ways are so entirely repulsive. I won’t let it happen.”

“You won’t have a choice.”

She stopped and met that assessment with a fierce glare, fists clenched on her hips, chin lifted high in the air. “I’m the alpha here, and I lead the pack. When I make a decision, it stands. If I say there will be no Mating Rite, there will be no Mating Rite.”

“If you say there will be no Mating Rite, there will be a riot,” Barney spat out.

Honor turned on the old man, prepared to rip him a new one, but her uncle moved slightly to the side, drawing her attention away.

“It’s not like you to kill the messenger, sweetheart,” Hamish said. “Don’t start picking fights with the man for speaking the truth. Saying no won’t change anything. The pack’s been working itself into a state since Ethan died. They’ve had too much time to be uncertain by now. You’ve been challenged repeatedly, and you may have won those battles, but everyone knows the war isn’t over. They know this Howl is big, and having the Silverback sniffing around and asking questions about you and the pack is only ratcheting up the tension. Everyone knows tomorrow night isn’t going to end without blood spilled, but most of them don’t want to see you dead. They’re hoping—
I’m
hoping—that you aren’t that stupid, but they won’t accept a decree from you that flies in the face of thousands of years of Lupine history and custom. Once you’ve established yourself, maybe, but not now. Now, you need to play the hand you’ll be dealt.”

“So what is it that you want me to do, uncle?” she demanded. “Go along with this stupid, bass-ackwards tradition and let myself be raped? Because I can’t do it. I’d sooner step aside and let the Silverback Clan name Bozo the Clown the alpha of this pack.”

“And you see? That’s why you need to start thinking this thing through.”

“What are you talking about?”

“About the fact that the male sent here by the Silverback Clan is now a great big variable in an already complicated equation.” Hamish braced his elbows on his spread knees and clasped his hands together between them. “Setting aside the fact that he’s already marked you for a minute, it hasn’t helped shut any mouths that Graham Winters felt it necessary to send one of his men here to judge your fitness to lead. It made some folks in the pack who had never questioned you taking over wonder if there might be something to the question.”

Honor swore. “I knew I should have kicked his sorry ass out of my territory before he had time to shut his damned car door.”

Her uncle raised a brow. “Right. Either way, it’s too late for that now. The cat’s out of the bag. Having him here has only made the Mating Rite more likely. You aren’t the only one who finds the thought of it hard to swallow, but having the Silverback question you will make it go down easier for quite a few of them. What really throws a wrench in the works is finding out that he’s marked you for his mate. That’s a hell of a thing to have happen right now.”

“You already told me it wouldn’t be any help. Since I haven’t marked him back, and he can’t put forward a claim to stop the mating hunt, what the hell good does he do me?”

“None. What he does for you doesn’t have a damn trace of good about it. He makes things worse.”

At that, something snapped in Honor’s chest. She threw back her head and laughed, loudly. She felt like a camel hauling straw when that one last blade drifted down onto her back, and the picture of herself as a were-camel only made her laugh harder. As did the look Barney Andrews threw her way. The man couldn’t have appeared more horrified if she’d stripped off her clothes and decided to dance a tarantella on top of her daddy’s desk.

That thought set her off again.

By the time she had to stop or quit breathing altogether, she was wiping tears from her eyes and clutching her aching belly.

“Goddess’ sake, Ham, she’s lost her damned mind,” Barney hissed, as if Honor couldn’t hear him, standing as she was less than five feet away from him. “Not that it doesn’t make the question of her fitness to lead a lot easier to answer, but what the hell are we supposed to do now?”

“Whew.” Honor blew out a deep breath and grabbed ahold of herself. The elder might be looking at her funny, but she recognized the laughter for what it was—a release from the vibrating knot of tension that had been winding tighter and tighter inside of her for days. Hell, maybe even years. “Don’t fit me for a straitjacket just yet, Barney. I haven’t gone off the deep end. Not yet anyway. But you’ve got to admit, at this point saying things have just gotten worse is like saying that when a man’s wife steals his truck to leave him, not only does she run over his dog, she mails him back the bill to get the fender fixed.”

That comparison didn’t seem to reassure him.

Shrugging, she turned back to her uncle. “Okay, Uncle Ham. Lay it on me. What’s the bottom line about Hunter’s impact on the situation? I won’t even question that he makes things worse, but what did you mean by it?”

Hamish nodded, looking unfazed by her outburst. Hell, the man had known her since her first breath; he’d seen her act crazier.

“Logan Hunter doesn’t just undermine your claim to be alpha,” he said, holding her gaze with his own, his age and her affection for him making it possible. “I said before that the males who want to move against you at the Howl, they won’t recognize him as your mate, not with the mark unreturned and him being the beta of another pack, but that doesn’t mean Hunter won’t want to stake his claim.” He pushed his upper body back up straight. “Now, I spoke to the boy, so I don’t think he’s dumb enough or mean enough to try to join in the rite, even if our males would let him, but he’s not going to just stand aside and let anyone try to hurt you, either. So my guess is, when the rite is declared and the first male steps up to challenge you, Hunter is going to try to take him down.”

Closing her eyes, Honor let her head fall back and sighed. Now she could see where this was going—straight to hell, just like everything else in her life. “And when he does that, it will set off all the other males. There really will be a riot. Anyone who doesn’t like me—or who just doesn’t like having an outsider interfering in pack business—is going to try to kill Logan. When the whole thing is over, I’m left with either half a pack, with the rest lying dead at the Silverback’s feet, or a dead Silverback and the beginnings of a war with the most powerful Lupine pack in the eastern United States.”

“That about sums it up.”

Honor was silent for a moment, just letting the irony of it all sink in. Here she stood, a female who didn’t even want to be alpha, faced with a situation that redefined the idea of a no-win scenario. She felt like she was trapped in an episode of
Star Trek
. She had no good choices, and no matter what choice she made, someone was going to die. It seemed like it would be a hell of a lot easier if that someone were her, but her stubborn pride wouldn’t allow it.

Finally, she blew out a breath and opened her eyes.

“So, what do you suggest I do?” she asked, her mouth twisting into a wry curve. “If I shift and start running now, I could be halfway to the Canadian border before moonrise on Saturday.”

Hamish returned the expression. “You’d never get that far. If the pack didn’t track you down, that mate of yours would.”

She shook her head. “We both know he can’t be my mate, uncle. There’s no way it can work. When this is over, if either one of us is still alive, we’ll be going our separate ways. I can’t leave the pack, and he can’t take orders from anyone but his own alpha. That’s just the way it is.”

“One step at a time, sweetheart. First, figure out a way to get through the weekend, then worry about your love life.”

“Right. Survival. Check.” She paused for several long seconds. “Any idea how to make that happen?”

“Not at the moment, but you’ve got forty-five hours left to figure it out.”

“Forty-five hours? Sure. Piece of cake.”

Or not.

Eleven

Logan left Honor alone in her office and ran. He entered the woods in a blind fury, his heart pounding in his ears, rage burning through his veins like poison. He paid no attention to the snow that crunched icily under the callused pads of his feet, or to the scent of more snow coming in on the ozone-sharpened breeze. None of it mattered, and none of it could penetrate the red haze that fogged his mind and kept him operating on pure instinct, the instinct to run or to kill. Preferably both.

He ran for hours, zigzagging through the dense New England woods, letting his sense of smell inform him whenever he got close to the edges of the White Paw Clan’s territory. The first time the scent hit him, it only increased his fury. He should have smelled his mate at those borders, because the edge of a Lupine territory was always scent-marked by the alpha of the pack. Instead, all Logan could smell was an unfamiliar dominant male who must have been Honor’s father. The fact that his mate’s position was still too tenuous for her to go out and mark her own lands made him seethe inside, but gradually, as he expended the adrenaline that drove his rage, he began to take comfort in the lingering traces of her scent he picked up here and there around the forest. Honor might not have scented her borders quite yet, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t left her mark on this territory. She had become part of the land here, just as it had become part of her.

Shortly after sunset, the last of the driving anger burned up in the relentless pounding of his paws against the earth, and Logan collapsed, panting, under a towering pine tree. The dry needles piled beneath it crunched under his weight, exposed where the thick forest cover had shielded the ground from the last light snowfall. Ears back, tongue lolling, Logan took a moment to catch his breath and let the sounds and scents of the forest soothe and calm him.

He had needed that run. Badly. The tension of the last couple of days had piled on top of his already deep sense of restlessness and discontent until he’d come within inches of losing control completely and going on the kind of rampage that made humans write stories about mindless, bloodthirsty werewolves who could only be stopped by the impact of a silver bullet. Logan had always wondered where that thing about the silver had come from. As far as he knew, if you put any kind of a bullet into the dead center of something coming at you, it was pretty much done. Choice of metal really just boiled down to semantics.

Now, with night closing in on the forest, Logan reluctantly began to pad back toward the Tate house and a set of dry clothes. Goddess knew what had happened to the ones he’d been wearing earlier. They had most likely been shredded during his shift, but he needed to shift back to his human form and work through a few things. The humans might be off base with that “mindless beast” crap, but it was easier to think wearing skin as opposed to fur. When the fur was on, the accompanying instincts could get in the way and cloud his thinking.