Chapter Two
Polaris
Stewart and Typhoon argued with each other for hours, with Stewart not backing down one smidgeon, before Typhoon finally burst into laughter, called him a real Cyclone and agreed to let him attempt to become a shifter. “If that’s successful, then I’ll see about letting you join the Brotherhood. Not sure why the tattoo is so important to you, though. You’ve got plenty others.”
Frieda traced her own tattoo, the wolf’s head that marked her as part of the Brotherhood. She’d had it for, oh, ten years now. Ever since she joined the Brotherhood as a teen. It seemed like a lifetime ago before she had been involved in all this fighting and death and crime. Not that she wanted to go back to the girl she used to be, always terrified, always uncertain. There was a certain loneliness, though, an aching for the brother who always took care of her.
She sighed as she glanced around the room. There was no time for those thoughts today.
The attempt to turn Stewart into a shifter was taking place in Hurricane’s country house. It seemed fitting, given that Hurricane was Stewart’s brother-in-law and there was a large patch of forest outside, perfect for running in. Not to mention the Brotherhood often used this space as a hideout when things got a little rough. It was charmed against vampire attacks, and Hurricane was rich enough that the cops didn’t like to bother him unless they had something big.
Hurricane and Roxy were here, as were Twister, Guinevere, and Daniel. Stewart talked with them quietly, and Frieda dropped her arms to her sides. Given her and Stewart’s relationship, it had been decided that she was going to be the one doing the riskiest part of the ritual—the biting. Twister refused to try again, and Stewart had decided not to put Roxy or Hurricane through that. But he wanted someone he trusted, someone who cared, and so Frieda had volunteered herself.
If something went wrong, though…
It won’t, she told herself firmly. And if it does, which it won’t, then Dr. Mia is here.
Typhoon’s mate stood by him, hands clasped lightly before herself. Her expression was calm and smooth, and she nodded toward Frieda when she saw her looking. Typhoon touched his mate’s arm, then strode to the middle of the room, where the candles were already in place and the runes drawn in chalk on the floor.
“Frieda.” Typhoon gestured to her.
She repressed a sigh. Frieda. Always her name. She knew the gang was largely a boy’s club—after all, it was called the Savage Brotherhood—but it irked her when her chosen nickname wasn’t used. It wasn’t like she could tell the alpha of the whole gang to shove it, though. Still… she bet that Shadow didn’t have this problem, even though she’d semi-retired from the Brotherhood.
Then again, Frieda mused as she joined Typhoon in the center of the ritual circle, Shadow’s fucking terrifying. Girl’s a berserker along with everything else she’s got.
That utter loss of control was not something that Frieda would take in trade for being called Polaris. She clasped her hands behind her back and nodded to Stewart as he stepped into the circle as well.
“We all know the risks involved in this.” Typhoon glanced from one to the other before sweeping his gaze across the others in the room, lingering on Daniel before turning back to Stewart.
Frieda had to wonder what that was about. As the only half-vampire, half-shifter hybrid in existence, Daniel was an interesting case. Looking at him, you’d think he was Andy’s slightly younger brother, not his son. The fact was, though, that Typhoon was against Andy and Guinevere’s relationship from the start. She could only guess that it meant he was keeping an extra eye on Daniel. It had made her nervous, too, even though she didn’t want to admit it. Still, Daniel was a good kid… well… ‘kid’ was pushing it a bit. In some ways, she wasn’t certain he’d been a kid at all.
“Stewart,” Typhoon said slowly, a furrow in his brow, “Have you given thought to what you want if this doesn’t work?”
“If you mean if I die,” Stewart said slowly, “I already have my will written out and final goodbyes put on tape and all that jazz.”
Typhoon frowned at him. “I was more thinking along the lines of if it doesn’t work and you’re too close to death to remain human. Have you given thought to Guinevere turning you into a vampire?”
Frieda’s eyes widened. She attempted to stifle her gasp, though it did little good. It was almost as shocking that nobody else seemed surprised at this line of questioning. Stewart didn’t even blink as he nodded.
“I thought about it. Guinevere and I discussed what it means to be a vampire and what the first years are like. I have decided not to pursue that option, if it comes to it.”
Why would he choose to be a vampire? Even if death was the only other option? Frieda kept her expression smooth, so that her thoughts couldn’t be read on her face. She hadn’t spent a lot of time with Guinevere, but one of the things that she did say, over and over again, was how much she missed being human.
It was time for the ritual. Stewart removed his shirt, the tattoos on his chest and shoulders rippling as he did so, and then knelt before her. Frieda swallowed hard, not daring to let herself second-guess this decision now. She pressed a single finger to his forehead; not part of the ritual, just a touch to calm both of their nerves.
Then she shifted. And without letting herself think about the consequences, she snapped her jaws around his neck. Her teeth punctured his jugular as the candles flickered and the runes seemed to glow. Stewart let out a half-strangled cry of pain. Frieda drew back, shifting into her human form, and grabbed the blood transfusion tube on the floor. While she chanted the words she had memorized, she quickly connected herself to the tube, letting the blood flow through it before sticking the other end into Stewart’s arm; Mia hovered on the outside, but Frieda didn’t look at her. She didn’t care if she didn’t do it exactly as the tiger had said; this would suffice.
Blood pumped into the air as Stewart clasped a hand to his neck. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as Frieda finished the chant. A ripple of power wafted through the air; not quite electricity, and not quite magic, either. As he collapsed to the floor, his blood staining the wooden floor red, Frieda lunged forward and caught him. Her heart crashed against her ribs again and again as she lowered him gently to the floor.
She didn’t need to find his pulse to know that it was all out of order. She could hear his heart, the beat irregular. Her hands started to shake as she bent over him, one hand on his chest.
“Let me,” Mia urged, suddenly there beside her.
Frieda allowed the doctor to nudge her aside, though she felt like snarling, hunching over him, preventing anybody from going near him. Beyond the circle, Twister and Roxy clung to each other while their mates watched with tense shoulders. Daniel’s hands were clenched as he bounced slightly on the spot. Typhoon watched with hard eyes that didn’t quite conceal his worry.
“Hold him,” Mia cried as Stewart started to convulse.
“No,” Frieda moaned, throwing herself on Stewart. She pressed his limbs to the floor, taking special care that the tube giving him her blood didn’t disconnect. Tears started to fill her eyes, even though she tried to push the awful, empty feeling in her chest away. He wasn’t dead yet! “What do I need to do?”
“Just hold him.”
Obeying the doctor, Frieda increased her hold on Stewart. His cheeks were pale, the blood flow starting to ease. Mia worked on him, keeping one hand pressed firmly to his neck. His heart stuttered—Frieda nearly cried out. It gave a lurch, was still for far too long, and then started to beat again.
Relief washed over her so powerfully that she was left trembling as she kept holding him, even though his seizing had stopped. His heartbeat was strong and steady now. Mia pulled her hand back, checked his neck, and a smile curved her lips. She wiped the blood from her hands and pulled back Stewart’s lip, checking his color, then lifted his eyelid and shone a light into his eye.
“Watch it,” he slurred, pulling weakly against Frieda. She let him go and he batted at Mia’s hand. “What’re you doing, trying to blind me or something?”
Cries of happiness rang from around the room. Mia checked his vitals as Stewart’s family crowded together. Mia unhooked the transfusion tube, then nodded at Frieda. She withdrew, standing beyond the circle with her arms wrapped around her waist. He was alive… that was good. Now it only remained to be seen if the ritual worked… if he was a shifter or it had just been her blood to heal him.
“God!” Stewart twisted his head and stared at Guinevere in shock. “You stink!”
“Hey.” Twister slapped his arm even as he started to laugh.
Frieda grinned. That Stewart was smelling that god-awful rotten fruit scent was a good indication… But she still held her breath.
Until Stewart threw back his head and let out such a deep, rich howl that her wolf responded at once. Heat flooded her body at the sound. Her breath caught in her chest as snow-white fur sprouted across his body. Her eyes widened as his clothes tore from his body. His muscled body shifted shape, and within seconds a white wolf, almost as big as Typhoon’s wolf form, stood in the living room.
Frieda couldn’t help it. She leapt forward, adding in her howl as she shifted back to her wolf’s form. Hurricane hurried to the door and opened it; together, the two of them bounded onto the large manicured lawn. Stewart leapt and rolled and danced in circles. Frieda’s tail went in wide circles as she dashed after him. She pounced on his back, nipping at his shoulders, and he quickly turned. With a great roll, he turned her over his shoulder and then pinned her to the grassy yard.
Roxy and Twister bounded over, also in their wolf forms. They circled them, and together the three siblings bounded around, howling in unison and yipping with happiness. Frieda panted as she rolled to her stomach, watching while her tail continued to wag. She had never seen Stewart so happy. Her heart was so full of warmth that she couldn’t take it.
This was the first step. He’d gotten what he wanted, but it didn’t mean that he was automatically going to get the rest of what he wanted. These first few weeks would be crucial in establishing his control over his wolf. They were powerful beasts and wonderful allies, but they did have a tendency to react to everything in the immediacy. Not much for thinking ahead of circumstances.
After some time, the siblings calmed. They rubbed heads and licked each other’s cheeks before trotting back to the porch where Typhoon waited with the rest of them. He had a pleased smirk on his face. Guinevere looked relieved, whereas Daniel had his arms wrapped around his chest and looked like he was struggling to be happy for his uncle.
Frieda watched him, her brow furrowing. Andy and Stewart always kept her up-to-date on what was happening with their family, and she’d attended more than one family dinner. She knew what Daniel’s look was about… he could feel his beast inside of him, but it remained hidden in such depths that he was uncertain what it was, and he had not yet been able to shift.
They thought maybe it was because he lived in the vampire kingdom, and was surrounded by vampires all the time. Frieda couldn’t help but think that maybe he was less shifter than vampire… and that the vampire side of him was going to win out in the end. She couldn’t help but flinch at the thought. Especially after Stewart had just said that he’d rather be dead than be a vampire.
She shook her head and approached, trying to push those thoughts from her mind as she joined the others to hear what Typhoon had to say.
The alpha spread his arms open wide, the smirk on his face growing to an all-out grin. “Welcome, Cyclone, to the Savage Brotherhood.”
Cyclone? Frieda’s nostrils flared. Why was it that Stewart got a nickname right away and yet everybody refused to call her by hers? Her lip pulled back over her teeth, a snarl of disconnected disgust rolling through her. Well, maybe she should start telling everybody to call her Frieda—maybe then they’d actually call her Polaris like she wanted!
Her tail cricked in annoyance as nobody even paid attention to her irritation.
“You’ll be placed on Frieda’s crew,” Typhoon continued, and Frieda’s exasperation only deepened. “But understand that this is only a trial basis. You have to prove yourself a valuable asset before you are officially accepted into the Savage Brotherhood. Only then will you be given a rank, a designation, and a tattoo. Do you understand?”
Stewart barked and danced on the spot. Both Roxy and Twister shifted back to their human forms, laughing. Typhoon rolled his eyes and let out a deep growl, which froze Stewart in place. Even so, Typhoon was grinning when he spoke.
“When I ask a question, I don’t like to be barked at in return,” he said.
Stewart’s tail wagged in low, embarrassed sweeps until he shifted back to his human form. His muscular body was coated in sweat from the exertion. He bowed his head slightly toward Typhoon. “Thank you for this opportunity. I will do everything I can to prove myself a valuable member of the Brotherhood, and to get that designation as soon as I can. Before you know it, I’m going to be alpha of my own chapter.”
The bold statement made both Frieda and Twister snicker, but in truth, it was something that Frieda could see happening. Stewart had involved himself in the Brotherhood for years now, not letting his humanity stand in the way of helping out every way he could. People liked him already, and he had a powerful presence. The only thing that held him back before was the fact that he couldn’t shift.
That wasn’t a problem anymore.
Typhoon rolled his eyes. “I decide who becomes alphas,” he said, the growl in his voice deepening. “And I don’t know if I like your attitude. One could easily take it to be challenging my authority.”
“You know that’s not what I meant,” Stewart started anxiously.
Frieda started to laugh. She clapped her hands and shook her head, then pranced over to stand beside Stewart. She elbowed him in the ribs as she grinned up at Typhoon. “Don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll whip this pup into shape before you know it.”
“See that you do.”
Typhoon turned to Mia, clearly finished. Frieda jabbed Stewart in the ribs again and jerked her head toward the tree line. “Want to go running?”
He turned to her, and she didn’t miss the way his gaze skimmed up her body, nor the way he hardened visibly. Perhaps that was the reason he didn’t answer—just shifted right back into his wolf’s form and took off, yipping over his shoulder as he headed for the forest.
Frieda grinned and followed him.