Ravensong (Green Creek 2)

“You’re pack.”

And I felt the push of it, from him, from the wolf in the alley. It was hot and vibrant, a whisper of WitchPack in the back of my mind. “Funny how that worked out, isn’t it? Our first one destroyed, our second one leaving me behind. And here we are again. Our third. I wonder if other wolves get as many chances. If other witches have had as many Alphas as I have.”

“The first hurt,” he said, taking a step farther into the alley. “The second almost killed me.”

“Didn’t stop you. Thomas whistled and you went running like a good dog.”

A low growl rolled across the brick. “He was my brother.”

“Oh, I know. Get the fuck outta here, Mark.”

And for a moment, he hesitated.

I thought he’d turn around. Leave whatever this was that made my head hurt. The beer felt greasy in my stomach, and I wished I’d never come outside.

But he didn’t.

One moment he was still ten feet away, and the next he was in front of me, the long, hard line of his body pressed against mine. My back was to the brick, his hand in a loose grip around my throat, thumb and forefinger digging into the hinges of my jaw.

I breathed and breathed and breathed.

“You fight this,” he growled near my ear. “You always fight this.”

“You’re fucking right I do,” I said, hating how hoarse my voice sounded. A jolt of electricity was running just underneath my skin, and he knew it. He had to. My neck and underarms were slick with sweat, giving off chemical signals that I wanted to keep secret.

He dug his fingers in tighter, twisting my head to the side. His nose came to my neck, and he inhaled sharply. He dragged his nose up my throat to my cheek. His lips scraped against the underside of my jaw, but that was it.

“There’s anger,” he said quietly. “It’s smoke and ash. But underneath, there is still dirt and leaves and rain. Like there always was. Like the first time. I remember it. I never smelled anything like it before. I wanted to consume it. I wanted it rubbed into my skin so it would never leave me. I wanted to sink my teeth into it until your blood filled my mouth. Because the first one always hurts.”

“Yeah?” I asked. I reached up and grabbed the back of his head, holding him to me. “Then get a good sniff. Suck it in, wolf.”

I felt the pinprick of claws dimpling my skin as he pressed his hips against mine. He inhaled deeply, and I fought to keep my eyes from rolling back. Instead I dragged my hand from the back of his head down to his neck and over his shoulders until I could press it flat against his chest between us.

There was a beat of nothing, the tick tick tick of water dripping, and then the air rippled around us, the raven’s wings fluttering. A wall of air slammed into him, knocking him back against the opposite wall. His eyes lit up, fangs lengthening as he growled at me.

“I hope it was worth it,” I said, voice cold. “Because if you try and touch me again, I’ll fry your ass. You get me?”

He nodded slowly.

I took a last drag of my cigarette before I dropped it and crushed it beneath my boot. The smoke leaked out of my nose. Music throbbed from inside the bar.

And then I walked away, heading toward the street.

But before I could turn the corner, I heard him speak.

Fucker always got the last word.

“This isn’t over.”

too late/wild animal

PHILIP PAPPAS came the next day.

I didn’t trust the people from back East. I never had. They always came with an air of superiority, thinking they knew more than they actually did. They were always watching, taking in everything they could, systematically cataloguing all the tiny details to report back to the powers that be who were too chickenshit to actually come themselves.

Osmond had been the first. He betrayed us to Richard Collins. He had paid for his crimes with his life.

Robbie Fontaine had been the second, though Ox had told me he’d never been anything like Osmond. He was bright-eyed and eager, a pawn in a game he didn’t know he was part of. I would have loved to have seen the look on Michelle Hughes’s face when she realized that Robbie had defected to Ox’s pack. Oh, I was sure she played the part of the understanding Alpha. Everyone knew a wolf—a Beta—had a choice when it came to a pack. Any Alpha who forced a pack member to stay was considered dangerous and dealt with swiftly. Granted, I’d rarely heard of that happening, but the power of the Alpha could be intoxicating. The bigger and stronger the pack, the more powerful the Alpha became. Having Betas leave broke bonds and lessened the strength of a pack.