chapter three
Sasha waited for Tabor to stalk off to the dinner line, but he had an unnerving way of sticking around and sizing her up.
“That’s twice in one day I’ve had to save your skin,” Sasha said.
She waited for one of his snarky rebuttals, but he continued to stare at her before lifting his arms in a lazy shrug.
Naturally, he’d brush her off even after she’d stopped him from doing something stupid. If he’d managed to strike down Garrick with his powers, even Sasha wouldn’t have been able to prevent the council from banishing Tabor.
Even though he was a major pain in the ass, he was still a member of her tribe, as was Zackary.
Sasha placed a hand on her hip. Tabor’s eyes followed the movement before his gaze returned to her face. She cleared her throat. “You know, it might help if you weren’t always reminding the pack that you’re a wizard.”
Tabor sniffed. “Doubtful. You don’t go prancing around rubbing it in that you’re a pureblood, but the pack doesn’t forget that either, does it?”
“That’s different,” Sasha said.
Tabor leaned forward on his toes. “How?”
Her muscles tensed. She couldn’t tell if he was goading her or truly curious.
“I have certain duties I must fulfill because of my heritage.”
Tabor took a gliding step toward her, his tall, toned, muscular body moving with ease. Green eyes shining, he leaned in close enough to steal Sasha’s breath. “But what if it’s out of your control? We all know Wolfrik isn’t coming back. Good riddance to him,” Tabor scoffed.
“Wolfrik suffered a terrible loss when his parents were killed.” Sasha swallowed past the thick lump in her throat.
Tabor’s eyebrows slanted. “So did you, and you didn’t lose your mind and abandon the pack.”
Sasha’s eyes went out of focus. The greens of Tabor’s irises blurred into the foliage, leaves falling from the branches, decaying on the ground where she crouched beneath a maple tree, hugging her legs that fall day Wolfrik disappeared. She’d been the last to see him. The last to hear his scathing words, each one rising from the shadows of her mind with haunting clarity.
“They forced us together and we rolled over like obedient dogs.”
Muscles cording, Wolfrik paced alongside the Forest of the Ancestors where, early that morning, they had buried what was left of their parents’ mangled bodies beneath evergreens. His shoulder muscles bulged against the narrow straps of his gray tank top. He lifted his arms, so powerful, so beautiful, and scooped the air in his palms, head bent, glaring into his fingers.
Tears streaked down Sasha’s face. She craved his comfort, a kind word, but Wolfrik refused to look at her as he continued his rant.
“I respected my parents and yours—they were purebloods—but Jager, Garrick, and Palmer are a joke. Palmer wasn’t even there.” Wolfrik’s lip curled. “They dare tell us to make a claim tonight, to boost morale—” A nasty laugh ripped through Wolfrik’s lips. His chest expanded, afternoon light reaching through the trees as though unable to resist the perfection of his body, a touch of light defining the sculpted muscles of his arms and softening his deep brown close-cropped hair. “Purebloods don’t take orders from urban wolf descendants,” he snarled, his beauty sharply contrasting his spiteful words. “I’d rather wander the forest alone than stick around to see those mongrels assume leadership over Wolf Hollow.”
“Wolfrik.” Sasha choked out his name. “We need to stick together.”
Finally, he’d looked at her, but it would have been preferable if he’d kept his blistering glare on his palms.
“There is no ‘we.’” His words were clipped, jagged shards deepening the cuts inside her punctured heart.
She could barely take air into lungs that had turned to bedrock.
Wolfrik ripped his top down the middle, the pieces hitting the dirt, jeans swiftly joining the heap at his toes. He left her on the ground while she choked on a sob, offering no goodbyes as he stormed into the forest never to be seen again.
The memory clogged her throat. She cleared it, blinking rapidly and bringing the present moment, along with Tabor, back into focus.
Tabor studied her. “All I meant was, you’re strong, and I respect that. We all do.”
He stepped over to her cautiously, eyeing the ground one moment, then raising his head the next and piercing her with his gaze. “The council can’t force you to remain single, can they?” he asked. “Even those old coots must know it’s better you take a mate. Any pups of yours would still be stronger than the rest. Even the offspring from a half-breed,” he said, lowering his voice.
Heat flamed up Sasha’s neck, filling her face and warming her ears. Her arms slid down her sides, fabric bunching in her fingers as she clutched at her dress.
“The council is looking out for the pack’s best interest,” she stammered.
A smile crept over Tabor’s lips. “Undoubtedly,” he said, “but that still doesn’t answer my question. Are you interested in claiming a mate, even if he isn’t a pureblood?”
Why did she feel flustered all of a sudden? Why did Tabor have to stir up all these feelings to begin with? She would have been angry at him if he’d been taunting her, but he looked genuinely curious.
Sasha’s breath came out rapidly. “I have no wish to remain single,” she said, feeling frustrated at how breathless she sounded. The thought of Aden, of being his mate, sent her heart rate skittering all over the place.
Tabor smiled cryptically after she’d spoken. His whole face seemed to light up, which further confused Sasha. He stood taller, looking at her with a shimmer in his green eyes.
“We should dish up before all the food’s gone,” Sasha said hastily.
It was Aden, not the food, that made her eager to join the group. Ever since they’d been partnered, they’d taken to eating meals together. It happened a lot when shifters were paired. Patrolling formed a natural bond between shifters during the duration of their partnership. Sasha only had two short days left with Aden, unless she was lucky enough to be paired with him again.
She took a step back from Tabor and his unsettling smile.
“Enjoy your dinner,” he said. “I’m going to take mine with Heidi and Peter.” Tabor’s grin widened. “They’re trying for a pup in a few days.”
Sasha didn’t know how to respond so she nodded before walking away.
Conversations and laughter caught her ears as she approached the group gathered in the glade.
Community meals were a longstanding tradition that went back as far as Sasha could remember. Patrolling as they did, broken into pairs, meals were about the only time their pack gathered in large numbers to socialize.
A fire burned bright beneath the community cauldron. Three young men got up from their shared log and dipped their bowls inside for seconds.
Sasha looked around, spirits dropping when she spotted Aden sharing a log with a blonde shifter named Lacy. Soft-spoken and sweet, Lacy was one of the pack’s darlings. Apparently Aden thought so too. He couldn’t stop smiling at her, or talking, or gesturing with his hands, while Lacy listened raptly. Whenever Aden stopped talking to laugh, Lacy laughed too. Her smile filled her face and reached her eyes.
If only Tabor hadn’t picked a fight with Zackary right before dinner and waylaid Sasha. This was what she got for doing the responsible thing and stepping in. If not for Tabor, it might have been her seated beside Aden sharing a laugh, shoulders brushing, thighs touching . . .
She swallowed back a frustrated growl.
Next time she should let Tabor and Zackary beat each other to bloody pulps. It was a good thing she had happened by, though. Garrick was overstepping his bounds more and more. Sasha would speak to Jager about it. The whole point of forming a council was to vote on pack issues as a group. Their council consisted of five shifters: Sasha, Palmer, Jager, Garrick, and Garrick’s son, Raider. Palmer, Jager, and Garrick were the only remaining elders in all of Wolf Hollow. If any female elders had survived, Sasha would not have found herself the lone woman on council. She and Raider were inducted as council members a month after Wolfrik disappeared. Ironically, Wolfrik would have served on the very council he bemoaned if he hadn’t abandoned the pack. She would have liked his input and support in both personal and pack matters. Instead, she’d lost her parents and closest friend all in one fell swoop.
Sasha leaned her back against a tree, having lost her appetite.
She surveyed the group, trying to look anywhere except at Aden and Lacy, but her traitorous eyes kept returning to them. A surge of pain spiked inside her chest every time she saw the pair smiling at each other.
Palmer sat cross-legged on the ground beside his young, pregnant mate, Francine. She rested on a log above him, belly large and rounded beneath a loose dress that settled over her knees.
Palmer grinned when he noticed Sasha. He lifted his bowl over his shoulder and handed it to Francine then got to his feet.
Palmer made his way to the middle of the clearing.
“Attention, everyone! Attention!” he called out. “I have good news to share.” Palmer’s winsome smile quieted pack members almost instantly. “Two vulhena were disposed of today. Good work, Aden and Sasha, and Tabor and Olivia.” He led the pack in a group applause.
Over half the pack turned to face Aden while clapping. Lacy’s grin widened and she touched his arm, putting a blush on Aden’s cheeks.
“Way to go, Aden!” someone yelled over the applause.
Palmer waved his hands down for silence.
“As you know the full moon is in another two days.”
The group howled and laughed.
Palmer’s grin widened. “And as you know, it is tradition for all single wolves to attend the full moon ceremony.”
This time, the howling increased in volume, mostly from the single male wolf shifters. The full moon ceremony took place before the actual full moon. It was a longstanding tradition for the single shifters in the pack to attend the ceremony in which chosen members performed a mating dance believed to bring luck to the couples trying for pups.
If there was one thing the mating dance was good for, it was working the single wolves into a frenzy. That and Jager’s special brew made for a wild night.
Sasha always performed in the mating dance, but she did no mating afterward. She knew the dance so well she went into a trance when she performed it. Afterward, she snuck off alone and slept soundly knowing all the single wolves got a night to enjoy basic pleasures before the mated wolves had their turn.
The howls among the pack went on long and loud. Palmer allowed it to die down on its own. When it did, he raised his arms dramatically.
“For tomorrow’s full moon ceremony, we have the great honor of welcoming Hector from Glenn Meadows, and his cousin, Alexa, as our guests.”
Sasha gave a start.
There were soft murmurs and stunned whispers of, “Hector!”
The council had tried for years to bring Hector over to Wolf Hollow. They’d invited him more times than Sasha could count. They’d practically begged him to at least attend a full moon ceremony and meet her.
Hector was a pureblood from the Glenn Meadows shifters tribe, a five-day journey on four legs.
“Hector and his cousin, Alexa, arrive tomorrow,” Palmer said. “I trust everyone will make them both feel at home in Wolf Hollow.”
Cheers of consent went up.
It made sense Hector’s cousin would join him rather than his sister, Hailey. The Glenn Meadows shifters wouldn’t want to risk sending two purebloods at once.
As the merriment continued, Palmer’s chest lifted. “Tomorrow’s ceremony will bring extra luck to our mated couples with Hector taking Sasha as his partner in the mating dance.” Palmer looked around the crowd, smile widening when his eyes landed on hers.
She gave nothing away, none of her anguish or outrage at learning this news with the rest of the pack. Palmer was neither as barbaric as Garrick, nor as crusty as Jager, nor was he her friend, despite the sociable smile always ready on his lips. She couldn’t count on a single council member to offer her the common courtsesy of consulting her first.
Sasha’s legs turned leaden. She felt like invisible ties bound her in place as she stood rooted to the ground, both stoic and sacrificial, she thought bitterly.
Cheers went up.
They all wanted her to mate with a fellow pureblood.
They wanted her to breed, as Tabor had so crudely put it earlier.
At least he didn’t beat around the bush. She found she preferred Tabor’s bluntness to the pack’s offhanded jabs and pokes.
They continued to chatter gleefully. Everyone had given up on Wolfrik returning. Hector had been their remaining hope, and Sasha had been prepared to claim him if he joined their pack and if she found him acceptable.
That was before she’d formed an attachment to Aden. It especially disheartened her to see him cheering with the rest of the pack. That was what Sasha would always remember. There wasn’t a trace of regret on his face. He turned to Lacy and they smiled at each other until both their cheeks turned rosy and they broke eye contact with bashful grins.
Sasha had to fight control to keep from shifting. Anguish crashed over her like the roaring waters at Skyler Falls after a heavy rain, the onslaught threatened to pull her under before she could catch her breath. She needed to break out of her skin and run free.
Old Jager limped over and slapped her on the back. He still had a lot of strength for a man permanently crippled. Even shifting was too painful for him. He’d chosen to remain in human form, probably to make full use of his tongue with his daily grumblings.
That evening, his brown eyes shown with rare gaiety.
“No need to thank me,” he said.
This was one of the few occasions when Sasha would have welcomed his typically foul mood.
“I am making a special batch of my most potent brew to honor Hector’s visit to Wolf Hollow,” Jager said.
Over the smoky fire, Sasha caught a glimpse of Raider’s dark hair. Females giggled as he made his way over. Raider had rugged good looks and broad shoulders, toned muscles, and a thin, dark bit of scruff over his chin, but he didn’t strut or preen. He never gave any indication he noticed the way in which the opposite sex fawned over him. It happened with such frequency it had probably become like birdsong in the background as far as he was concerned.
He lifted his chin as he walked up to Sasha and Jager. “Big news,” he said.
“Indeed,” Jager said, nodding enthusiastically.
“And you didn’t think to share it with us at the last council meeting?” Raider asked, eyes narrowing.
The tightening in Sasha’s stomach lessened. At least she hadn’t been singled out completely.
Jager grimaced and coughed. “No, well, we didn’t want to get everyone’s hopes up.”
Raider shrugged it off the same way he dismissed the hollow’s single lady shifters. “I will be performing with Alexa then?” he asked in a matter-of-fact voice.
“That’s right, my boy,” Jager said with a sly wink. He followed it up with a slap to the back, very much like the one he’d given Sasha. “And I hear she’s quite the beauty.”
Raider gave a blasé nod.
Usually he performed with Sasha. She’d once, very briefly, considered him as a potential mate before dismissing him as too reserved.
Sasha couldn’t detect much wit in him, which wasn’t a big surprise given he had Garrick for a father.
Some might say Sasha lacked zest as well. They’d never seen her and Wolfrik tease each other in private. If only Aden could see the love she had yet to give, that she, too, could laugh and smile if only he’d give her a chance.
But even now he leaned closer to Lacy and brushed stray strands of hair away from her face.
Sasha tried to console herself that the council would have never allowed her to take a werewolf for a mate anyway. The elders believed they needed the advantage of pure-blooded pups with their ingrained abilities to thrive in the wild and defend the pack. She would have let down the entire hollow if she put her own interests above theirs. She tried to think of all the reasons it would not have worked rather than the feeling of rejection howling from the depths of her wounded soul.
If only she’d said something to Aden when she had the chance. She’d never given him any reason to see her as more than a patrol partner.
What would have happened if she had joined him at the falls earlier? Sasha’s heart sank. What would have happened is the second vulhena might have succeeded in killing Tabor and Olivia. And it wouldn’t have changed the fact that Hector was visiting Wolf Hollow at long last.
Maybe she’d find him agreeable. Perhaps he was full of humor and warmth. It might even be a relief to choose a mate from another pack. It could be a fresh start.
Why then did the thought freeze over her like an arctic wind?
Bowls clattered together as Francine and her work partner, Amber, gathered them into woven baskets to transport to the river for rinsing off. Francine’s large belly had yet to slow her down as she bustled around the glade.
When Amber headed toward them, Francine cut her off with a snarl.
“Garrick’s finished eating. See to his dish,” Francine snapped, sending Amber scurrying away.
With a triumphant jerk of her chin, Francine marched over and took first Jager’s, then Raider’s bowl.
Not long after Palmer took Francine as a mate, she had established herself as one of the hollow’s dominant she-wolves. Palmer was the only elder to claim a mate since losing his first mate in the vulhena attack.
Sasha and Francine had once been friends, but Francine had shifted her alliance to Palmer and turned a cold shoulder to Sasha in the process.
Francine raised her eyebrows. “Where’s your bowl, Sasha?”
Sasha glanced down at her empty hands. “I wasn’t hungry.”
Francine frowned. “Hopefully soon you’ll have a reason to eat a double portion.”
Jager rubbed his hands together and grinned. “It’s been too long since we’ve had a pure-blooded pup running around.”
Sasha forced a smile. “Let’s not jinx it before Hector’s had a chance to arrive.”
Jager’s hand flew up to his mouth. The old coot was as superstitious as he was old-fashioned.
“You’re right,” he said, wagging his finger at Raider and Francine as though they’d been the ones to talk.
Raider lifted his eyes skyward before walking off with a swagger that set off another round of swoons from every female he passed. Francine balanced the basket on one hip and placed a meaningful hand on her belly before walking away.
Through grinning teeth, Jager said, “This is going to be the best full moon ceremony in ages.” He patted Sasha on the shoulder then limped away.
With nothing better to do, Sasha slumped onto a log and watched the pack members who lingered. They all looked carefree talking and laughing together.
She loved her pack. She’d do about anything for them, even during moments like these when she felt like an outsider with no one left to turn to for comfort.