Chapter 7 - Liv
CHAPTER 7 - LIV
Trigger warning: violent fight.
What in the actual fuck just happened? One minute, Heather’s mate comforted her, the next he started World War III of the shifters. The brutality of it called to my shewolf, and she bounced on her tiptoes at the sidelines, desiring to have a go at TJ myself for disrespecting my sister.
Father taught me how to fight and roll with the best, and Archer and I went through many rounds as kids and teens, in both wolf and human form. My younger and dumb brother kept trying to prove himself top dog over my shewolf, though we never used lethal moves like the Lumbrys.
Alpha instincts alerted, I dragged Heather from the circle, protecting her from the fray. Blood dripped from her forehead where TJ hit her. The bastard would pay for that. Balls sliced off one night in bed. Throat slit while he slept. Creative thoughts rushed through my mind as I bent down and tore the end of my dress off with a sharp rip. Material bunched in my palm, I dabbed her wound, then pressed hard as a compression bandage.
I split my gaze between my sister and Dash, his movements sluggish compared to his agile men, taking a few fists to the chest and face that urged my wolf into the ring with him. Muscles quaked with strain as he military style choked one man and flung him aside. Between his strikes, he panted and bunched his shirt with his fist, clutching something.
Heather watched the battle waged in her honor, wincing at first, then braving the violence, a smile playing on her lips that her mate defended her. This was the stuff of her romance novels.
“No one’s done this for me before,” she whispered.
“Hey. I punched Tommy Turner twice for teasing you.” My shewolf prowled beneath my skin, longing to lick Steele in appreciation. The same pride roared in my heart at Heather slapping my asshole of a fiancé for belittling her.
Fatigue suddenly drained my strength and slackened my hold on Heather. Sharp aches stabbed my temples. Heaviness in my chest restricted my air and I gasped, clutching my throat. Legs weak, I leaned on her. What the hell was wrong with me?
“Liv? What’s wrong?” Heather’s arm secured my waist, struggling to hold me upright when I was taller and weighed more than her.
“I don’t know.” Sweaty and itchy, I swiped at my throbbing forehead.
Ten feet from us, Dash hunched over, palms on his knees as he caught his breath. Swings from a drunken Malice dick snapped him back to his feet to fend off blows. Vigor flooded my muscles and they twitched, regaining potency, allowing me to stand without assistance.
“I think I’m okay,” I muttered.
A stray punch collected Dash’s jaw and he stumbled. Dizziness swayed me from my position as if I suffered the strike too. What the hell? Shared fatigue, breathlessness, now pain. Why did we bond like that? Pack links shared emotions and feelings between related wolves. Except Dash and I weren’t connected that way… oh, no… my gut hardened. Unless we were Lunar mates, our union stronger. My wolf yipped with glee, and I went cold all over.
No, it couldn’t be.
I was not putting myself through that again. Months of hopelessness and crying. Endless hikes with my headphones to escape my thoughts. Avoiding dating or casual sex for two years until I was ready again.
Blood-red shadows cast down on the scene, and I glanced up at the reddish hue of the moon. Battles within the goddess’ circle desecrated her sacred space, and by the angry crimson shade of our revered mother, she was pissed.
“Dash, stop!” I cried out, desperate to earn his attention, those savage, stormy eyes on me. “The moon is turning red.”
Fuck. Why did I warn him? Why did I care? He scorned me.
Disappointment squeezed my chest that the Lumbry males didn’t end the Malices, terminating my betrothal to TJ.
Steele crossed back to Heather’s side, brushing her hair, a finger skimming over her cut. “He won’t hurt you again. I promise.” Her very own knight in shining armor.
His chest rumbled like a chainsaw, slowing down, volume lowering, her presence dulling his rage, the picture of them together beautiful and comforting.
Steele’s actions said a lot about the man, the lengths he went to protecting his pack, family, and mate. Warm fuzziness clouded my chest, knowing how well he’d care for, love, and treat my sister. A perfect fucking fairy tale ending.
Silver replaced my sister’s hazel eyes. The scent of cinnamon apples spiked the air, her wolf showing gratitude. Steele, the lucky guy, looked forward to one hell of a mating ritual as reward for standing up for her.
Twisted emotions spiraled through my heart and mind. Happiness that she found a mate willing to fight for her. Sparks of loneliness, knowing I’d get less time with her. The green fucking monster of envy scratching at my ribcage that I didn’t get my happy ending.
He lifted her wrist to inspect her Lunar tattoo, an exact match to his. A wolf showered in stars. Beautiful. Perfect for my romantic-at-heart sister. “My mate?”
The rest of his words fell away at a single touch. Bloodied, beaten hands braced the sides of my face, burning like a brand on my skin. Dash, his touch liquefying my ribcage.
“Are you hurt?” I shivered at his voice, rough, sharp, and dark as sin. The swipe of his thumb as harsh as his voice.
Previous angst faded into the background and butterflies flipped in my belly. “Thank you for what you did for my sister.”
The dark storm on his face faltered, and he rubbed his mouth. “I protect my pack. What’s mine.” My toes curled at his deliciously dark rumble claiming ownership of my soul.
His gaze licked at my skin like fire. One look enslaved me to the heat in his eyes. Heat warming the chill that set in my blood from the conflict. His scent stalled my heart. Turbulent and raw, the first hint of a summer storm, the sweet, crisp scent of rain, backed by the darkness of burnt amber.
My heart picked up its pace at his possessive growl and scrutiny of my Lunar branding. Shooting stars over a wolf. Lifting his arm, he exposed the identical symbol. Long lost dreams crashed in my chest. My shewolf yipped at our mate returning to us. Horror scratched the back of my mind, but she banished it.
Fingers indented my arm, echoing the pleased purr in his chest. “Mates,” he growled, his voice rife with the need to mate.
Silver in his eyes deepened. Fangs extended to deliver my mate bite.
“Mates.” My shewolf tilted her head.
One of the Lumbrys whistled behind us and said, “Kept man now, Dash,” prompting amused laughter from the rest of his men.
Dash let out a soft grumble, his wolf still in charge. My shewolf responded, nudging me, keen to spring free and mate.
A semblance of reality trickled back into my mind, releasing her hold on me. Dash broke my heart once. Paired as lunar mates changed everything. Protective instincts to save Heather propelled me into that circle against Father’s order. I rubbed my forehead. He would be livid. Would he nullify the betrothal to TJ the way he tried with Chase? The chest in my heart where I buried any hope of escaping my arranged marriage creaked open, allowing light and anticipation inside after being slammed shut for four years.
The rest of my thoughts fell away at Dash’s soft strokes of my upper arm. Memory surfaced of the last time we held each other like this. The night after the fundraiser to launch an animal shelter that ended up becoming the shifter sanctuary. His lips trailed down my neck, scrambling my brain. A burning palm on my hip and another on my bare back. The scorch in my throat as my wolf released soft, pining keens. Lines blurred between my duty and the man I gave my heart to. For once, I wanted to be wild like Dash, and disregard the strict parameters of my life.
Unspoken words and stifled emotions floated heavily between us. The way he promised me everything and left me with nothing. Whispers of bitterness jaded my soul the day I became nothing to him. Heartless. Unattainable. Elusive. Untrustworthy.
Resentment snapped me back to full sense. Dash didn’t get to touch me like that when he left me alone at the Harvest Dance, waiting for him for hours, betrayed and humiliated. No text or call from him to explain his absence.
I closed off my emotions and freed myself of his grasp. My cautious gaze split between him and Heather, ready to retreat if he tried to reach for me again. Whatever spell he held over me would not work a third time. Heartbreak ruined me the first time, and I refused to go through that again.
Steele’s furious breaths evened out and the red blotches of fury on his neck and throat slowly vanished. Flames in his eyes banked out the more he doted over Heather, holding her, stroking her back, although something smelled off about him beyond the stringent blood of the Malices on his knuckles. Hesitance, restraint, and doubt.
Shit. Maybe it was me. Unease wrapped around my throat after the quarrel. That, and my heart was wary, head guarded because of damn Dash.
Steele leaned back, relaxing his grip on Heather’s back and hip. “Moonshine? Can we talk?” His voice came out a dry, ashy rasp.
The adorable nickname made me buzz all over, and our bond shimmy, cutting through my caution. She deserved happiness and a mate who left her giddy and smiling deliriously.
Her little fingers held onto his arms as if afraid to let him go. “Sure.” She worked her lip with her teeth. By the behavior displayed moments ago, something as minor as her knees wouldn’t deter him, and I sent a pulse of encouragement to her.
He took her hand and led her into the forest beyond The Grove. Dash’s men whistled and cheered behind us, silenced by the solemn glare Steele cut them.
Stomach acid burned in my mouth at the hint of something wrong. Wolf instincts warned me of impending trouble, and they were rarely wrong.
High on his victory, leaving for his mating ritual, he ought to be smiling like a wolf who got his rabbit, not glum like a man heading to the gallows. Bells tolled in my mind, warning of the crumbling of the happy ending my sister dreamed of.
“Heather,” I got out, crossing the grassy meadow to go after them and protect my sister from more heartache.
Someone stepped between us, blocking me from reaching for her.
Father.
Fear snapped my spine straight and alert, waiting for the disappointment in his tone, the scolding, the promise to lock me up for the remaining thirty days of freedom before he gave me to TJ fucking Malice.