“That was incredible. You’re incredible,” he murmurs. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” I whisper.
He draws away, and I miss the warmth of him at my back immediately. The mattress shifts, and as Dare and Archer help me maneuver my limp body off Trystan, Ridge returns with a small towel.
All four men help clean me up, not missing the chance to press their lips to my skin over and over as they do. Then Ridge tosses the rag away, pulling me toward him as he settles onto the mattress. “Come here.”
I nestle in against his side, and Dare presses in against my back, his arm around my waist. Trystan and Archer each have a hand on me, and Archer strokes my hair with gentle fingers. None of us speak, but we don’t need to. There are no words more powerful than the feelings that float between us. I’m surrounded on all sides, cocooned by my mates.
Content.
Happy.
My whole body feels quiet and warm, and I can ignore everything happening outside these walls for the moment. No matter what happens tomorrow, I can do this. We can do this.
I’m stronger than I ever thought I could be, and I’ve been loved more thoroughly and deeply than most people are in a lifetime.
I’ll never regret a minute of it.
26
Dare
I’m awake on watch the next morning before the sun has risen, and I swear I can feel an electric current buzzing in the air.
Sable and the other guys are still sound asleep, each of them sprawled out around me, breathing deep and even. She’s a tangle of limbs and soft breaths against my side, my gorgeous fucking ray of moonlight. But beyond the silence and comfort of this bed, I can sense that the village is already up and moving. Preparations are underway for what’s about to come.
There’s a strange feeling churning inside me. I want to stay here. I want to close my eyes and go to sleep where it’s warm and life is easy. But another part of me is raring to go. I could bound out of this bed in a heartbeat and race wildly into the vast unknown, ready to draw blood.
It’s useless to try to fight the inevitable march of time. And our time has come. That low level hum of activity, that sense of anticipation and fear on the air? It speaks to my wolf and tells me to get ready.
This is it. This is the day we either make shifter history—or we die.
On the other side of Sable, Ridge stirs and stretches, then glances over to find me staring at him. He sniffs the air, and I can tell he’s sensing that same haze of anticipation coming from the village. He reaches out to prod Archer awake with his foot. I follow suit and nudge Trystan with my elbow.
It’s go time.
I don’t bother with dressing fully. A pair of jersey basketball shorts that hang low on my hips, and I’m ready to go. I don’t intend to be in human form for long today.
We eat a quick breakfast of cereal and toast, and between the five of us, we down two pots of coffee. It’s a quiet, subdued meal, all of us lost in thought. Worry lines mar Ridge’s forehead, and Archer’s doing a lot of staring out the window. I think it’s pretty clear his mind is on his dad.
Or at least, maybe it’s clear to me since my mind is on my own losses. On the pack I once led.
I’ll fight for them in this battle as much as I fight for the East, West, and North Packs.
When we reach the large open area outside the meeting house, the place is packed with not only those who will be heading out to fight with us, but with those who are being left behind. I catch sight of the witch standing with three of our extended pack’s matriarchs, the four women speaking in low voices.
I feel a twinge inside my chest. Part of it is my ingrained disgust to see a witch among us, but the other part, the newer part, is excited for a future where maybe our kids won’t grow up with the same fears and prejudices that we did.
A future where maybe witches and wolves can live in harmony. Even as friends. It might take some getting used to—scratch that, it will take some getting used to—but if we can make that future happen, we’ll all win.
Once everyone’s assembled, we climb up on the rickety portable stage that’s been erected since the packs came together. Sable falls back to stand with Amora and a few of the elders, while I join Archer, Trystan, and Ridge at the front of the dais.
Archer raises his hands for silence, and the effect is immediate. I like that about the guy—he built such a comfortable, kind leadership with his pack that they respond to nothing more than hand gestures or facial expressions. And the other two packs have followed suit in learning to respond as well.
It’s almost like we were all meant to work together. Like this is how things should’ve been from the start.
Archer’s face looks grim as he stares out over the sea of shifters. I get the feeling—again—that he’s wishing Malcolm were here to help, or hell, even just to be his shoulder to lean on. But then Archer glances at the rest of us.