Rise (41 page)

“Wait—” he said, and took another step toward me.

What if I could wait, putting my life on hold in this moment? What if I stole a little more time and caught a taste of what had been so long forbidden? Would it be so wrong? I would never see this stranger again. What harm could come from lingering here, from holding still and learning whether he would try to touch me the way I wanted to him to?

His scent told me my thoughts weren’t far off the mark, his skin snapping with adrenaline and the musk that belied desire. I’d let this encounter last much too long, stepped well beyond the line of safe conduct. With regret nipping at me, I balled my fist. My eyes moved up and down his body, assessing, remembering the feeling of his lips on my skin. He smiled hesitantly.

Enough.

I caught him across the jaw with a single blow. He dropped to the ground and didn’t move again. I bent down and gathered the boy in my arms, slinging his backpack over my shoulder. The scent of green meadows and dew-kissed tree limbs flowed around me, flooding me with that strange ache that coiled low in my body, a physical reminder of my brush with treachery. Twilight shadows stretched farther up the mountain, but I’d have him at the base by dusk.

A lone, battered pickup was parked near the rippling waterway that marked the boundary of the sacred site. Black signs with bright orange lettering were posted along the creek bank:

NO TRESPASSING. PRIVATE PROPERTY.

The Ford Ranger was unlocked. I flung open the door, almost pulling it from the rust-bitten vehicle. I draped the boy’s limp form across the driver’s seat. His head slumped forward and I caught the stark outline of a tattoo on the back of his neck. A dark, bizarrely inked cross.

A trespasser and trend hound. Thank God I found something not to like about him.

I hurled his pack onto the passenger seat and slammed the door. The truck’s steel frame groaned. Still trembling with frustration, I shifted into wolf form and darted back into the forest. His scent clung to me, blurring my sense of purpose. I sniffed the air and cringed, a new scent bringing my treachery into stark relief.

I know you’re here.
A snarl traveled with my thought.

Are you okay?
Bryn’s plaintive question only made fear bite harder into my trembling muscles. In the next moment she ran beside me.

I told you to leave.
I bared my teeth but couldn’t deny my sudden relief at her presence.

I could never abandon you.
Bryn kept pace easily.
And you know I’ll never betray you.

I picked up speed, darting through the deepening shadows of the forest. I abandoned my attempt to outrun fear, shifted forms, and stumbled forward until I found the solid pressure of a tree trunk. The scratch of the bark on my skin failed to repel the gnat-like nerves that swarmed in my head.

“Why did you save him?” she asked. “Humans mean nothing to us.”

I kept my arms around the tree but turned my cheek to the side so I could look at Bryn. No longer in her wolf form, the short, wiry girl’s hands rested on her hips. Her eyes narrowed as she waited for an answer.

I blinked, but I couldn’t halt the burning sensation. A pair of tears, hot and unwanted, slid down my cheeks.

Bryn’s eyes widened. I never cried. Not when anyone could witness it.

I turned my face away, but I could sense her watching me silently, without judgment. I had no answers for Bryn. Or for myself.

TWO

WHEN I OPENED THE FRONT DOOR
to my house, my body went rigid. I could smell the visitors. Aged parchment, fine wine: Lumine Nightshade’s scent exuded an aristocratic elegance. But her guards filled the house with an unbearable odor, boiling pitch and burnt hair.

“Calla?” Lumine’s voice dripped with honey.

I cringed, trying to gather my wits before I walked into the kitchen with my mouth glued shut. I didn’t want to taste the creatures as well as smell them.

Lumine sat at the table across from her pack’s current alpha, my father. She remained impossibly still, posture perfect, chocolate tresses caught in a chignon at the back of her neck. She wore her typical immaculate ebony suit and crisp high-collared white shirt. Two wraiths flanked her, looming shadow-like just over her slim shoulders.

I sucked in my cheeks so I could bite the insides. It was the only thing that kept me from baring my teeth at the bodyguards.

“Have a seat, my dear.” Lumine gestured to a chair.

I pulled the chair close to my father, crouching rather than sitting in it. I couldn’t relax with the wraiths nearby.

Does she already know about the violation?
Is she here to order my execution?

“Little more than a month of waiting left, lovely girl,” she murmured. “Are you looking forward to your union?”

I let out the breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.

“Sure,” I said.

Lumine brought the tips of her fingers together in front of her face.

“Is that the only word you have to offer about your auspicious future?”

My father barked a laugh. “Calla’s not the romantic her mother is, Mistress.”

His tone remained confident, but his gaze fell on me. I ran my tongue along my canines, which were sharpening in my mouth.

“I see,” she said, eyes moving up and down my body.

I crossed my arms over my chest.

“Stephen, you might teach her better manners. I expect my alpha females to embody finesse. Naomi has always had the utmost grace in the role.”

She continued to watch me, so I couldn’t bare my teeth at her the way I wanted to.

Finesse, my ass. I’m a warrior, not your child bride.

“I thought you might be pleased with the match, dear girl,” she said. “You’re a beautiful alpha. And there hasn’t been a Bane male the likes of Renier before. Even Emile admits that. The union bodes well for all of us. You should be grateful to have such a mate.”

My jaw clenched, but I met her eyes without blinking.

“I respect Ren. He’s a friend. We’ll be fine together.”

A friend… sort of. Ren watches me like I’m a cookie jar he wouldn’t mind being caught with his hand in. And he’s not the one who’d pay for that theft.
Though I’d been stuck with lock and key from day one of our betrothal, I hadn’t thought playing policeman over our relationship would be that hard. But Ren didn’t like to play by the rules. He was just tempting enough to make me wonder whether giving him a taste might be worth the risk.

“Fine?” Lumine repeated. “But do you desire the boy? Emile would be furious at the idea you might scoff at his heir.” She drummed her fingers on the table.

I stared at the floor, cursing the flames that raced over my cheeks.
How the hell does desire matter when I’m not allowed to do anything about it?
In that moment I hated her.

My father cleared his throat. “My lady, the union has been set since the children’s birth. The Nightshade and Bane packs remain committed to it. As are my daughter and Emile’s son.”

“Like I said, we’ll be fine,” I whispered. The hint of a growl escaped with my words.

Tinkling laughter brought my eyes back to the Keeper. As she watched me squirm, Lumine’s smile was patronizing. I glared at her, no longer able to hold in my outrage.

“Indeed.” Her gaze moved to my father. “The ceremony must not be interrupted or delayed. Under any circumstances.”

She rose and extended her hand. My father briefly pressed his lips to her pale fingers. She turned to me. I reluctantly took her vellum-like skin in my own hand, trying not to think about how much I wanted to bite her.

“All worthy females have finesse, my dear.” She touched my cheek, letting her nails scrape hard enough to make me flinch.

My stomach lurched.

Her stiletto heels struck a sharp staccato on the tile as she left the kitchen. The wraiths trailed behind her, their silence more disturbing than the unnerving rhythm of her steps. I drew my knees up to my chest and rested my cheek against them. I didn’t breathe again until I heard the front door close.

“You’re awfully tense,” my father said. “Did something happen on patrol?”

I shook my head. “You know I hate wraiths.”

“We all hate wraiths.”

I shrugged. “Why was she here anyway?”

“To discuss the union.”

“You’re kidding.” I frowned. “Just me and Ren?”

My father passed a weary hand over his eyes. “Calla, it would be helpful if you wouldn’t treat the union like a hoop to jump through. Far more is at stake than ‘just you and Ren.’ The formation of a new pack hasn’t occurred for decades. The Keepers are on edge.”

“Sorry,” I said, not meaning it.

“Don’t be sorry. Be serious.”

I sat up straight.

“Emile was here earlier today.” He grimaced.

“What?!” I gasped. “Why?”

I couldn’t imagine a civil conversation between Emile Laroche and his rival alpha.

My father’s voice was cold. “The same reason as Lumine.”

I buried my face in my hands, my cheeks once again on fire.

“Calla?”

“Sorry, Dad,” I said, swallowing my embarrassment. “It’s just that Ren and I get along fine. We’re friends, sort of. We’ve known the union was coming for a long time. I can’t see any problems with it. And if Ren does, that would be news to me. But this whole process would be much easier if everyone would just lay off. The pressure isn’t helping.”

He nodded. “Welcome to your life as an alpha. The pressure never helps. It also never goes away.”

“Great.” I sighed and rose from my chair. “I have homework.”

“Night, then,” he said quietly.

“Night.”

“And Calla?”

“Yeah?” I paused at the bottom of the staircase.

“Go easy on your mother.”

I frowned and continued up the stairs. When I reached my bedroom door, I shrieked. Clothes were strewn everywhere. Covering my bed, on the floor, hanging from the nightstand and lamp.

“This will never do!” My mother pointed an accusing finger at me.

“Mom!”

One of my favorite vintage T-shirts, from a Pixies tour in the eighties, hung from her clenched fists.

“Do you own anything beautiful?” She shook the offending T-shirt at me.

“Define
beautiful,
” I returned.

I swallowed a groan, searching for any clothes I particularly wanted to protect, and sat on top of my Republicans for Voldemort hoodie.

“Lace? Silk? Cashmere?” Naomi asked. “Anything that isn’t denim or cotton?”

She twisted the Pixies shirt in her hands and I cringed.

“Do you know that
Emile
was here today?” Her eyes moved over the bed, assessing the pile of clothes.

“Dad said that,” I replied quietly, but inside I was screaming.

I stroked my fingers along the rope of hair that hung over my shoulder, lifted the end, and caught it between my teeth.

My mother pursed her lips and dropped the T-shirt so she could extract my fingers from the twisted hair. Then she sighed, took a seat on the bed just behind me, and pulled the elastic from the end of the braid.

“And this hair.” She combed out the waves with her fingers. “Why you bind it up all the time is beyond me.”

“There’s too much,” I said. “It gets in the way.”

I could hear the chime of my mother’s chandelier earrings when she shook her head. “My lovely flower. You can’t hide your assets anymore. You’re a woman now.”

With a disgusted grunt I rolled across the bed, out of her reach.

“I’m no flower.” I pushed the curtain of hair back behind my shoulders. Free of the braid, it felt cumbersome and heavy.

“But you are,
Calla
.” She smiled. “My beautiful lily.”

“It’s just a name, Mom.” I began to gather up my clothes. “Not who I am.”

“It is who you are.” I started at the warning note in her voice. “Stop doing that. It’s not necessary.”

My hands froze on the T-shirt I’d grabbed. She waited until I placed the half-folded shirt back on the coverlet. I started to say something, but my mother held up a silencing hand.

“The new pack forms next month. You’ll be the alpha female.”

“I know that.” I fought off the urge to throw dirty socks at her. “I’ve known that since I was five.”

“And now it’s time for you to start acting like it,” she said. “Lumine is worried.”

“Yeah, I know. Finesse. She wants finesse.” I wanted to gag.

“And Emile is concerned about what Renier wants,” she said.

“What
Ren
wants?” I said, wincing at the shrillness of my voice.

My mother lifted one of my bras from the bed. It was plain white cotton—the only kind I owned.

“We need to think about preparations. Do you wear
any
decent lingerie?”

The burning in my cheeks began again. I wondered if excessive blushing could cause permanent discoloration.

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

She ignored me, muttering under her breath as she sorted my things into piles, which, since she’d ordered me to stop folding, I could only presume were “acceptable” and “to be discarded.”