Clearly I was wrong.
What, all of a sudden you have nothing to say? Andrew said, breaking into my thoughts. Thats certainly new.
So is your attitude. I picked up the phone and held it to my ear, unsure what I was going to say until the words came out of their own accord. Andrew? I asked, the gears in my brain grinding almost audibly as I tried to reconcile this bitter, sharp-tongued man with my Andrew, who was sweet, and funny, andnice. I couldnt do it.
So you do remember me? His sarcasm was every bit as sharp as my own claws.
Of course I do.
I havent forgotten you, either. He didnt sound very pleased by that fact, and at the moment, the feeling was mutual.
Before I could reply, a harsh rustling sounded in my ear, as if hed covered up the phone on his end of the line. Then I heard indecipherable angry words, and the line went silent. No static, and no breathing. Hed hung up.
The words end call, printed across the screen on my phone, confirmed it.
At least a minute later, my bedroom door swung open to smack against my knees, and Marc stuck his head around the edge to see what hed hit. He found me still staring at my phone, my robe gaping open across one thigh. You have to push the buttons to make that work, he said, his expression completely serious.
Thanks, smart-ass. I shook my head to wake myself up. Fatigue and the shock of hearing from Andrew had pulled me past the end of my energy reserve.
Marc offered me his hand as he stepped into the room. I took it, and he hauled me up. He would have pulled me into an embrace, but I aimed a pointed glance at his grime-covered clothes and stepped back, banging my hip on the corner of my desk. Something wrong with your phone?
Nope. I was just checking the charge. I trudged over to my dresser and dropped the phone next to my watch, going for nonchalance as I opened the top drawer and grabbed underwear at random. But my faux casual gesture was pretty much ruined when I realized I already had a clean pair waiting on the bed.
I couldnt tell Marc about the phone call, because hed assumed from the beginning that Id ended things with Andrew properly. I hadnt lied, exactly. I just hadnt corrected his assumption. And really, was it my fault hed made an ass out of us both?
Oh. Marc pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it on top of my pile of clothes.
You have your own shower. I crossed my arms over the front of my robe to hold it closed. I couldnt concentrate on being irritated while he was half-naked, and he damn well knew it.
Marc gave me a sly grin and kicked the door closed with his foot. Im borrowing yours. Its the least you owe me after leaving me to sweat to death in that crematorium of a car.
I shoved the extra pair of underwear back into the drawer. Serves you right for sleeping through the entire trip.
Ill make it up to you. His jeans fell to the floor, and my eyes trailed after them helplessly, hypnotized by the goldenbrown color of his skin. No fair tempting me while I was too weak to resist.
Fortunately, I knew how to play that game, too. I let my robe fall open, framing my body with lavender terry cloth. Marc came forward with his arms outstretched, lust in his eyes and impatience in his step.
I held him at arms length. Not while you smell like an enforcer.
He groaned and backed toward the bathroom, his eyes holding mine captive. Ill be back in two minutes. Time me. Two minutes.
I laughed. Two minutes, or youre out of luck. I let the material slide off slowly. The shower was running by the time my robe hit the floor, but I was too tired to chuckle as I pulled a nightshirt over my head and stepped into my underwear. I slid beneath my covers with thoughts of Marc in the shower, slick with soap and water, and scented by my shampoo.
Id already forgotten about Andrews phone call by the time I fell asleep, and the last thing I heard before surrendering to exhaustion was Marcs groan of frustration when he opened the bathroom door to find me already curled up. Without him.
Four
Faythe, watch out!
I whirled instinctively toward the sound of Ryans voice the instant I heard it. I should have known better. In the far corner of the basement, my second-born brother stood gripping the steel bars of the cage, staring over my shoulder with his eyes wide in warning.
Shadows shifted on the wall in front of me. Clothing whispered behind me. A foreign heartbeat echoed in my ear. Hot breath stirred hairs on the back of my neck. I spun to face my foe. I was too late.
My eyes found his as his foot hit my ankle. He swept my feet out from under me. My ass hit the thick blue mat with a muted thud. My teeth clicked together, one side of my cheek between them. Sucking on the wound, I glared up at my opponent.
Ethan grinned down at me, peering through green eyes a shade brighter than my own, and my frown melted. Id never been able to stay mad at the youngest of my brothers; he was too damn cheerful. But such was not the case with the black sheep of the family.
Damn it, Ryan, I snapped, twisting to glare at him over one shoulder. Your stupid warnings do me more harm than good. Quit trying to distract me and keep your worthless mouth shut next time.
Fine. Ryans hands fell from the bars, and he slid them into his pockets, where they usually stayed hidden. Keep practicing in total silence. So long as the bad guys mute, youll be prepared. He seemed inclined to say more, no doubt with a healthy dose of sarcasm, but a single look from our father silenced him. Thin lips pressed firmly together, Ryan shuffled across bare concrete to the cot in one corner of the cage.
My father turned from his prodigal son to face his lifes true challengeme. Ill admit Ive considered muzzling Ryan, but this time his interruption raises a good point. He strolled across the floor toward me, smoothing down the front of a pressed white dress shirt as he walked. In spite of the heat and the grimy, unairconditioned basement, my father looked unruffled and flawlessly well pressed, as usual.
And that point would be? I left my question hanging as I accepted the hand Ethan offered. He hauled me up with no visible effort, then smacked me on the back. I glared at him, irritated to realize that though I was soaked with perspiration, he had yet to break a sweat. It didnt seem fair that he was both older and stronger. Okay, he wasnt really that much stronger than I was, but he definitely had more endurance, in spite of our fathers best efforts to stretch mine to its limits.
My father stopped with the tips of his polished dress shoes touching the edge of the mat. Yes, Ryan is arguably worth less to the Pride than the money it costs to feed him
At that, my incarcerated brother growled deep in his throat, but another glance from the Alpha shut him up. Ryan might have been vocal in his dissatisfaction over his meager accommodations, but he wasnt about to make his situation any worse. He was wise in matters of self-preservation, if in nothing else.
however, his interruption is typical of the kinds of distractions youll face in a real fight. My father adjusted his silver wire-rimmed glasses and stared hard at me through the lenses. A lecture was coming. I could feel it. You can hardly expect a confused, out-of-control werecat to oblige you with silence just so you can concentrate on putting him out of his misery, can you?
however, his interruption is typical of the kinds of distractions youll face in a real fight. My father adjusted his silver wire-rimmed glasses and stared hard at me through the lenses. A lecture was coming. I could feel it. You can hardly expect a confused, out-of-control werecat to oblige you with silence just so you can concentrate on putting him out of his misery, can you?
I frowned, unhappy to hear that wed dropped any pretense of these lessons being about self-defense. I was hired muscle for now, whether I liked it or not. Sighing, I repositioned the wide shoulder straps of a black sports bra I no longer completely filled out. No, but
He held up one thick, worn hand to silence me. You have to practice as if every fight is real, as if the danger is not only to you, but to those under your protection. You owe it to the rest of the Pride to give everything you have. All the time. You cant win a real fight if youre easily distracted.
Grinding my teeth together, I fought the urge to remind my father that Id been out in the real world, that for the past three months, Id been chasing down interlopers, handdelivering warnings, and patrolling the territory boundaries. Id been supervised, of course, but not two days earlier, Id apprehended Dan Painter on my own. I wanted to say that and more, but I didnt, because I knew how hed answer. Hed ask why, if I was capable of more, was I not showing it now. I didnt have an answer for him. So I kept my mouth shut.
That was one lesson Id learned well over the summer. And since it was apparently the only thing Id learned, I nodded curtly, sending my ponytail into a harsh bob behind me.
Try it again. With that, my father backed into a dark corner of the basement, his clothes fading into the shadows as the darkness seemed to consume him, but for the shine in his bright green eyes.
I took a deep, calming breath, ready for round four. Or was it round five? I couldnt remember, but it didnt matter, because Ethan was already coming at me again.
This time I was prepared.
I squatted, feet and knees spread, so that my center of balance was closer to the ground and my stance more stable. Ethan loped toward me, impossibly nimble. He lunged the last few feet. I bounded to my left and out of his path. He skidded past me. I whirled around to keep him in sight.
Ethan spun in midstep, showing off a lithe feline grace and flexibility. He landed on his knees facing me. His hand shot toward my leg. I darted out of reach and kicked out with my right foot. My sneaker connected with his jaw. His head snapped back.
He growled as I backpedaled, and both his depth and volume put Ryans puny attempt to shame.
Ethan rubbed his jaw. I smiled sweetly. Fresh sweat glistened on his back in the light of the bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. He dropped to all fours, fingers splayed on the mat. His back arched. My smile vanished. He was going to pounce.
I barely saw him move. Beads of perspiration hit the mat. Ethans sweatpants were a black blur as he flew toward me. I dropped to the pad, rolling onto my back. I tucked my elbows in at my sides and pressed my knees into my chest. Feet flexed, I pointed the soles of my shoes at the ceiling. Ethan landed exactly where hed aimed: on me. His weight crushed my legs into my torso. Air burst from my lungs. Fingers scrambled for a handful of my hair. Grunting, I shoved my legs away from my body.
Ethan flew backward across the basement, still several feet off the floor when he passed the edge of the mat. He twisted in midair, like a house cat falling from a fence post. His scuffed sneakers hit the ground. His hands followed almost instantly. Ethan hissed in pain as his momentum drove him forward, skinning his palms on the rough concrete. He jumped gracefully to his feet, his back to me, shoulders hunched. When he turned to face me he was smiling.
Damn, Faythe! he cried, rubbing two angry red shoeprints on his bare chest. Whered you learn that?
Standing, I opened my mouth to answer, but my first syllable ended in a string of vowels as something crashed into my left shoulder, driving me to the mat. I landed on my right side, pinned by something hard and heavy. Air whooshed from my lungs for the second time in as many minutes. With the first of my recovered breaths, I took in the scent of my new attacker, even as I recognized his laugh.
My temper flared. I hadnt even heard him come downstairs. Why couldnt our basement steps creak like everyone elses? Stupid high-quality construction. Thats what comes of being born to an architect.
Get I paused, shoving at the form draped over me as I twisted onto my back off. Get the hell off me.
Marc smiled down at me, propping himself up on his palms as his knees moved to straddle my hips. Give me one good reason.
Frowning, I stopped struggling to glare up at him. What Ill give you is five seconds to get up before I end what little possibility you have of ever siring childrenwith me or anyone else.
Instead of heeding my threat, he laughed again and leaned down to steal a kiss. I hissed and lunged off the floor with an ugly grunt of effort, my palms shoving on the front of his dark T-shirt. I didnt make it to my feetin fact, I barely moved Marc at allbut anger must have been obvious in my eyes, because my father cleared his throat, and we both stopped to look up at him. Marc, get up.
My mouth opened in surprise and my hands fell to rest on my stomach. The Alpha was backing me up? Instead of Marc? Were the roads of hell slick with ice? Had pigs taken to the skies? I smiled at my father, pleased by his support, even though I didnt need it. I could throw Marc off on my own. Id certainly done it before.
But then my father had to go and ruin what might have been an unprecedented father-daughter bonding moment. He met Marcs eyes, a smile claiming the lightly wrinkled corners of his mouth. I want grandchildren.
Of course. I rolled my eyes in frustration. Just because Id lost sight of the big picture didnt mean he had. Or that he ever would.
Marc took one look at the exasperation on my face and slid onto the mat on my right side, between me and my father. The gesture, though clearly unconscious, was more than appropriate. Marc was always coming between us, though it was hard to tell which of us he was trying to protect.
Grandchildren, huh? I said, sitting up in a single jerky motion. My fathers joke wasnt funny, because it wasnt really a joke. It was yet another reminder that no matter how good an enforcer I became, I couldnt escape my primary duty, and no amount of sugarcoating could make that pill go down easily.
I gained my feet, and Marc took a step back. Ethans smile vanished, his hands dropping to hang loose at his sides. On my left, Ryans shoes shuffled away from me on the floor of his cell, and I could almost feel the tension in the room spike. They thought I was going to start yelling; I could see it in their faces.
I met my fathers eyes and forced a laugh. You dont even know what to do with Ryan. What on earth would you do with a bunch of grandchildren running underfoot?
Our Alpha smiled, and Marc exhaled in relief. He was a big fan of my new effort to be agreeable, because as my fathers right-hand man and my potential other half, he was usually caught in the middle of our fights and forced into the role of moderator. And Marc was a rotten moderator, which was just as well. Alphas typically got their own way, and thus had little need for lessons in compromise.