Chapter 12 - Dash
CHAPTER 12 - DASH
This was a dumb idea. Dangerous as hell and likely to fail. Try getting that through my father’s thick skull. Backed into a corner, I had no other option but to go along with it, but not without taking precautions to protect my pack and lunar mate.
Liv’s broken face played over in my mind the entire night. I felt like a bastard for cleaving our Lunar bond. My wolf fought me at every step to take control. In the end, it had to be done.
It didn’t take a genius to spot her prickle at the mention of Whitney. I exploited Liv’s flicker of jealousy. Better to have her hate me and think I longed for my VP’s sister than drag my Lunar mate into my mess.
Everything I did was for her and my pack. Fostering feelings for me and owning Liv’s heart put her safety at risk. If we went along with the Umbras’ plans, that Malice mutt would read it on her face and harm her before we got to the wedding. We lost Whitney to those cocksuckers, and I wouldn’t lose Liv as well.
I hated lying to her and being a fucking dog that pushed her away. My feelings never went away despite staying away from her all this time. Winning this war and eliminating the Malices required keeping my priorities in order, and not getting distracted by Liv and her enticing beauty.
Dawn woke me and I bathed, scarfed down sausages and baked beans, and dressed in grey to blend in with the environment. Departing the sentinel cabin, I rode my Shadow to Steele’s place, where he waited for me on the stairs, yanking riding gloves on his massive mitts when I pulled up.
Wood creaked at his descent down the stairs. “Morning,” he grunted, throwing his leg over his rumbling, warming bike.
I flicked up my helmet visor and examined him. Swollen face, heavy, red eyes, and worn lines around his mouth. Rough night by the look of it. Tormenting himself for rejecting Heather. Same rough night I had. Give him one moon and he’d come good.
“Looking beautiful, princess.” I winked, snapped my visor closed and took off before he got the chance to tackle me from my bike.
The middle finger saluted me in my side mirror, and I laughed. Poking fun at each other was how we handled difficult situations we’d rather not get into. Conversations involving his dead mate were a no-go zone, and last night I took liberties in addressing the subject. This morning, I respected his privacy. If he wanted to talk about it, the ball was in his court.
Out on the freeway, my bike’s tires skidded on black ice, and I slowed for our safety. Steele followed suit, knowing the roads as well as I did. Forty minutes later, we rolled into Bathurst, grabbing bacon and egg sandwiches and coffee for breakfast before parking outside BeWitched, and setting our helmets on the handlebars.
Hester turf. Jackals’ territory. A late-night call to Slade requested permission to enter their region. Pack business with a side of pleasure. I didn’t get into details, and he didn’t ask, granting us permission.
Steele grunted as he wolfed down his food and coffee. The youngest of two brothers, he learned young to eat his food fast or else lose it to his siblings. It was the complete opposite in our home. Manners, shirt pressed, hair clean and brushed. Elbows off the table. Say a prayer before eating. Conversation without a full mouth.
A weight leaned on the back of my bike and rocked the suspension. Darkness and suffocation crackled in the air. Black magick, the kind I needed to repel an enemy.
“Back again so soon?” a dark voice purred, drawing my gaze to the lithe man resting a palm on my Honda.
Pale skin, raven hair and brows, grey eyes like mine with a haunting, dark beauty that sucked me into his vortex of sinister power. Dark jeans, ankle boots, and a buttoned shirt completed his look. Crimson lips and the silver bracelet and necklace with gemstones were the only hint of color on his body. The snake tattoo peeking out from the cuff of his worn black leather jacket signaled past allegiances to a despicable master.
“What can I say?” I shrugged. “Your sexy face draws me back.”
Gable smirked. “Sorry, mate. I’m a taken man.”
Me, too. Fuck. Rewind and delete that thought. I wasn’t fooling myself that things between us could work out. I fucked up everything good in my life. My brother’s future. Pack Lumbry’s sovereignty. I refused to ruin Liv too.
Gable jerked his head at my meal. “Hope you got me one.”
I snorted and nudged my extra breakfast sandwich on the leather seat in his direction. “Hope this gets me friend’s discount.”
I owed Gable a favor for opening his shop early. It paid to keep on the good side of the best warlock in the region. Breakfast came cheap compared to the spell I needed prepared. Monthly visits to his shop recharged the spell in my amulet and kept the moon’s power somewhat at bay. Without it, I’d be in bed for three days, one either side of every full moon, alerting my father to bad debts. I’d lose my balls or worse, if he ever found out.
Dark brows wagged at me, and roguish lips curved into a cocky smile as Gable unraveled his food and took a bite. “Best in town,” he groaned, his grey eyes fluttering, making Steele and me share a smile.
I stole a quick glance at my watch. 0700. Plenty of time until my next appointment. Settle in early and get the best vantage point. Fuck. I even sounded like my father talking strategy. Maybe if I did things his way, I might finally do something right. Doubted it.
Armed with his classic, smug smile, Gable crossed the pavement to his shop, opening the door, holding it open for me. “Come in. Tell me why this is so urgent I had to get out of bed before 10AM.”
I chuckled. Wolves rose with the sun, napped throughout the day, and hunted at night. We didn’t need long stretches of sleep like humans.
The warlock provided magical services for all the shifters in the area. Protection wards, curses for rivals, sexual performance herbs, pregnancy tonics, and general magical spells. Pricey but worth it when few breeched his magick.
Steele remained at the bikes to guard them and keep watch. Three breakfast sandwiches and cloudy skies ought to keep him happy.
Herbs, oils, incense, parchment, and the scent of candle wax overwhelmed my senses. Two glass cabinets displayed jewelry, amulets, necklaces, bracelets, and rings, as well as expensive ingredients for spells.
I braced my palm on the glass. “I need a protection spell.”
Gable tapped his lean fingers on the glass cabinet. “You’ve got one. Bought it off my competitor.”
Ouch. He never failed to remind me of that. Biggest regret of my life.
“Don’t worry your pretty little face.” I lightly scraped my knuckles along his sharp jaw. “My business is yours.”
This man saved my life. I wish I heard of his services before I made a stupid deal with another witch. Shifty bitch tricked me. Wolves had no business with magick.
Gable sniffed, pleased. “What type?” He gestured to the grimoire on his counter locked down by spelled chains securing it to the floor. Magick sizzled at the motion, called by its master. “Location? Prevention of shifting? Wards from evil spirits or invaders? Camouflage? Bad luck or weather?” His devious grin made my hackles rise. “Protection from performance issues.” His gaze dipped to my cock, and he winked.
“Fuck off.” I crushed my wrapper and tossed it at him, making him laugh harder and knock the rubbish into his waste basket.
“Don’t be embarrassed.” He lazily scratched his chest and yawned. “You’d be surprised how many people buy that spell.”
Didn’t have an issue in that department. “Want me to kick your ass?”
Gable gave me an easy smile. “You wouldn’t make it behind the counter before I had you on the floor.”
Smartass goaded people into a fight. That mouth would get him pounded into the floor. I pushed that aside to focus on the reason I came here.
We couldn’t afford another war with the Malices. The last scuffle took out half of our pack and weakened our best fighters, me and Father included. Wards established along the pack’s borders to repel invaders came at a heavy price: my strength drained every full moon. Hence why I wore Gable’s counter spelled necklace… among other precautions. Breaking the spell risked killing me, unless I got to the witch who screwed me. Conveniently, she vanished and left me with little confidence in her protection spell, which was why I came back to Gable. Mounting pressure ached in my ribcage from trying to fortify everyone I loved and avoid screwing it up again.
My grip on the counter tightened, anticipating the cost of Gable’s services and the depleted pack funds. “Repelling invaders stretching over land from Bathurst to Lithgow.”
Back-up plans if the two Umbras proceeded with their foolish strategy. Spells on Liv’s lands too, if the Hesters didn’t already possess them.
Gable clicked his tongue. Cocky asshole was gonna nail me on price. “That’s an hour of land in every direction.” Necessary to safeguard both packs if the Malices retaliated for slaying their Umbra. “A spell like that’s going to cost you.”
Anticipation of the fee spun me off balance as I removed my wallet. “Don’t give me a fucking heart attack with how much you’re going to sting me for.”
Gable reached forward and thumped my chest. “It’s okay. Your healing will take care of that.”
“Not funny, asshole.” I nudged him with my elbow, hinting to go gentle on ripping my heart out.
“Thirty grand.”
I choked at his answer. Money the pack didn’t have. I expected him to demand a cool five. Thirty?
“Fuck, that’s extortion,” I growled.
The warlock tapped his book. “A spell like that requires twenty-three ingredients, three of which are rare, and five hours of my time to prepare, minus time to deploy.”
Pride prevented me revealing Pack Lumbry’s financial difficulties. That and Father’s militaristic, need-to-know basis bullshit.
Never reveal the pack’s strengths or weaknesses to anyone, he drilled into us when young. Information is a weapon used to ruin or defeat you.
In times like these, where we faced retaliation and revenge, we couldn’t be too careful.
I didn’t trust Gable when he used to run with the snakes. Death was the only way out of the Brotherhood of Serpents. Somehow, he and his girlfriend managed to escape and survive. Judge a book by its cover. Fuck, yeah. For the right price, anyone could be bought, and I’d take the pack’s secrets to my grave.
Breath punched out of me at realizing I fought a losing war here.
“What about special discounts if I sleep with you?” At this point I was desperate, and Gable enjoyed flirting and a good fuck, from what I heard. Sex with another man was worth it for my pack’s survival. No one but me had to know.
Gable crossed his lean arms. “Like I said, mate, taken man. I don’t provide that service anymore. I’ll lose my balls if you drop your jeans.”
I tugged at my hair, running over our finances and potential scenarios. We might get away with pretending the bar had slow nights for a few weeks, but anything beyond that would tip Father’s suspicions. Same deal if I pinched from our other businesses.
The Jackals invested two hundred thousand in the new club, paid in installments for wages, rent, fuel, utilities etc. I wasn’t risking defrauding them and ruining the best thing to come into my life in years.
My body temperature climbed as I palmed the envelope in my grey jacket. Two thousand from the pack’s bar takings last night. Half owed to the staff. A quarter for the rent. The rest for stock. Using half of the money set the bar back two night’s income, which we needed to feed and nurture our members and stock up on supplies if the Malices declared war. Taking the cash was selfish and unfair. Desperate times called for desperate measures, if we stood a chance or emerging from this war alive and victorious. I wasn’t at the level of stealing yet and released the envelope and my pocket.
Gable must have sensed my hesitance and banished all trace of smartass from his voice. “You’re a good customer. Can you pay in installments?”
Sweat trickled down my nape and I swiped it away with my palm. I mentally calculated how long it would take to repay that kind of cash. Four months, and that was with consistent good weeks. Fuck. Gable wouldn’t go for that.
I pinched my mouth, the heat of desperation breathing down my neck. “What time period?”
“Four weeks, tops.” The furious throb in my temple shouted no . Leave. Don’t come fucking back.
Desperation cornered me. I scrubbed the back of my neck. Last night, I thought over potential retribution from the Malices. Poisoned water and food supplies caught us off guard last time, tricks we wouldn’t fall for a second time. We had to prepare stocks for a potential siege. Magical protection around our entire region allowed us to go about our business, but it meant we’d be trapped in our towns, unable to leave. Difficult when the club was contracted to deliver shipments for the Jackals. Another goddamn problem to solve. The list felt never ending.
I employed all restraint to hold a mask of calm. “I can’t do that, Gable.”
The warlock smirked and leaned on the counter. “What if we come to an agreement?” This sounded like a deal where I got fucked up the ass a third time. “You get me some of the Lycan flowers you’ve got growing up in your grove and I’ll do it for free.”
“Out of the fucking question.” The Lycan plants were sacred and not to be shared with humans. For use in rituals only. Beautification for the Grove. Guarded by the priests at all times. “I can’t get near them.”
A sample like that could be worth millions. More if he found a way to grow them and sell them. If I was found to be the one to supply him, I’d be dead.
Gable’s back snapped straight as he stood. “Bro, you’ve got bigger shit coming than a rival pack.”
I caught onto his meaning. The Guild. His girlfriend, Luna, was a member, and gave him a heads up that they prepared to come after shifters—or gantii as they called them—and eradicate them. Gantii crossed into Earth when the veil was weak, bred with humans and created half breeds like werewolves, which were forbidden under their law. Knowing this was coming was another reason I paired with the Jackals. The Guild didn’t mess with demigods.
“Get me a sample and I’ll do it for free.” Gable drove a hard bargain. “Then I’ll have magick the Guild don’t possess to fight them and save your asses.”
Big fucking decision. Brokering peace was a long-standing issue for the shifters and Guild members. Shifters of all types employed witches for spells to hide from the Guild’s eyes, protection that might be stripped from us if I didn’t fortify my alliances with a man like Gable.
“Let me think about it. I can’t make that decision for my kind or others.” I threw up my hand for him to shake. “Thank you, though, for the offer. I’ll be in touch.”
Gable folded his fingers into my palm and shook hands. “Pleasure doing potential business with you, wolfie.”
“This would be much easier if you still accepted sucking your dick for payment.” I winked, backed away facing him, blew him a kiss and left. Had to maintain appearances and throw him off any fear he might have sensed.
“Asshole.” He tossed a sprig of nightshade at me, and it hit the side of the door I swung open.
Outside, I put space between the shop and my bike, walking fast, rubbing the back of my neck. Time wasn’t on my side for making a decision. I had to get advice on this. Make alternative plans if necessary. After all my previous bad luck, the last thing I wanted was for this to come back and bite me in the ass.
Steele hurried after me, catching up outside the green grocers, grabbing my arm and swinging me around. “What happened?” His cool, whisky-brown eyes heated into a light amber. Worry. A color reserved for me these past few years.
I lifted my arms overhead, linked my fingers behind my head and sucked in air. “He wants thirty grand. That’s what happened.”
“Fuck. That kinda money will sink the pack, asshole.” Steele thumped me in the chest with his fist. He only reserved the asshole title for when he was really grumpy. “How are we gonna pay that back?”
I thrust his arm away. “We can’t. Maybe in a few months, when the club’s up and running.”
Steele shoved me with both palms this time. “Don’t touch that money. It belongs to the club.”
Shock pinned me to the spot that he thought I’d lower myself to that.
I raised my palms to lower the tension flowing like molten lava in my veins. “I didn’t touch the Jackals’ investment fund for the club.” The back of my neck heated up again, and I backed away to get space.
Steele jabbed a finger at me, reminiscent of the way Father always did. “I was about to kick your ass if you said you did.”
This was the most animated I’d seen my best friend in a while when he shut himself off to stop from feeling. Last night really got to him. Knowing Steele, he dragged himself over coals over and over, punishing himself.
I held back a smile, feeling lucky he stood by me. “The warlock proposed an alternative.”
Steele smirked and thumped my chest, the unsettled darkness in his eyes returning to cold brown. “You gonna suck his dick?”
I cracked a grin. “I offered. Sadly, he declined.”
“His loss.” Steele snorted. “Word around the club is you suck good dick.”
I thumped him back, and we laughed. The change in both our moods relieved the frantic throbbing in my temples and chest. Fuck. I hadn’t smiled in a long damn time. Months, maybe. Hadn’t partied with the boys. Avoided most social contact, excluding the opening party for the Jackals’ Wrath MC Lithgow chapter. The stress of making myself worthy to my father and club wore me down.
“Listen.” I needed to tell Steele everything. Get his opinion. Cover all damn bases before I made my decision. He was the one man I trusted completely in this world not to go running to my father. “Gable said he’d do the spells for free if I get him a flower from The Grove.”
“Fuck.” Steele dragged his massive fingers along his beard and jaw. “You know the punishment for that.”
“Yeah, I do.” I tugged at my hair again.
“What are you going to do?” It was clear from his defeated tone that he didn’t have another option for me.
I sighed. “Find another way, I guess.”