Chapter 2 #2
Tobias did laugh, then. One hysterical giggle that made Alexander’s indignant face twist in confusion before settling into a look that was far too arrogant for a hunter who was being pinned to the wall by a werewolf.
Tobias let Alexander go and stepped back.
Alexander caught himself easily. His frown deepened, his hand flashing toward his pocket.
“No need,” Tobias assured him. “Come on, let’s go.”
He headed for the door. Not the main one to the hallway, but the other one that led through the barracks.
“What’s the catch?” Alexander called.
Tobias sighed. Then he pulled his tattered hoodie sleeve over his hand and walked to the other side of the room, stooping down to pick up Alexander’s jawbone knife, covered in its owner’s blood.
The bony hilt glinted in the dull light. Tobias paused, turning it over. It had a small diamond carved into the bone. Double-lined, one of them so thin you could barely see it.
Tobias was hit with another wave of impossible truth.
This stray wasn’t from just any hunting family. This was from the White family, a lethal and particularly vicious group based in Kansas. Mainly, anyway. That family tended to go wherever the hunt called them.
Tobias forced down a surge of disgust and held out the knife, still protecting his hand with his sleeve.
Alexander stared at him suspiciously.
Tobias sighed again, making this one louder and more obnoxious. “Alright, if you’d rather I have it—”
He moved like he was going to put it in his pocket.
“No,” Alexander barked.
Tobias smirked and handed it over.
Their fingers brushed through Tobias’s sleeve. Even with all the intimacy they’d just shared—jeering, stabbing, holding him against a wall—Tobias had to hold back a shiver.
His wolf reared up inside of him, exhausted and pained and ready to claim.
Down, he told it.
He led Alexander through the barracks, which were thankfully empty at this time of evening, and through the back entrance.
“I don’t even know what street we’re under at this point,” Alexander whispered as he followed him up another dark stairway.
“You’re about to find out,” Tobias assured him.
They emerged into a parking lot, lit only by a single flickering streetlight.
Alexander squinted at the stores on the other side. “Is this…are we behind the sporting goods store on Haberdash Street?”
“Good eye,” Tobias said, strained. He was stretching, the movement pulling on his aching muscles, his scar tissue, and his slash wound all at once. “Are you a local?”
“Hardly,” Alexander said. He spun his jawbone knife distractedly, the same way Tobias’s sister would toy with her bracelets when she got nervous.
Tobias blinked. He hadn’t thought about that in a long time. He was starting to forget little things after so many years without her.
“So,” Alexander said stiffly. “What’s the catch?”
Tobias swallowed. Then he dragged up his most charming smile, the one that got people to swoon even after he got the scar across his mouth.
“That,” he said, pointing at the knife in Alexander’s hand, “is the crest of the White family.”
Alexander looked down at it, tightening his grip. He looked torn: part pride, part annoyance that he outed himself.
“If you want to hide that, maybe don’t carve their crest into your weapon,” Tobias advised Alexander. He circled him, keeping his steps slow and even so he didn’t betray the wailing eagerness pounding behind his ribcage. “Where’s the rest of your pack?”
“Family,” Alexander corrected. “Not a pack.”
Could’ve fooled me, Tobias thought. He was annoyed with himself for not noticing sooner: Alexander had not only the trademark cold blond hair and chiseled features, but also the arrogance and dangerous intensity of the Whites.
“You look too old to be out on a Proving,” Tobias continued casually. “But that’s what you’re doing, right? Proving yourself.”
Alexander stiffened. If he tensed any further, he would snap like a twig.
Tobias had seen this guy behind a fast-food counter, mopping floors, hunched in a corner eating a meticulously neat salad on his break: tense seemed like this guy’s natural state.
Maybe the rest of his family was the same.
Tobias didn’t know. He’d only ever seen them once.
If they were tense, they were too busy killing wolves to show it.
“They kicked you out, didn’t they? Now you’re trying to make up for it.” Tobias clicked his tongue admonishingly. “You must’ve fucked up pretty bad, Alex.”
“Alexander,” Alexander snapped, and strode away. “Thank you for the help, Tobias. If you aren’t going to tell me what the catch is, I’m going to take my leave.”
Take my leave, Tobias mouthed, incredulous. His mate was kicked out from a hunting family, despised nicknames, and said shit like ‘take my leave’? Obviously, Tobias had pissed off some powerful forces in the universe.
“I helped you,” Tobias called.
Alexander didn’t even slow down. “And I didn’t kill you. You’re welcome.”
“You couldn’t,” Tobias reminded him. “Not when I’m awake. Not when you don’t have a crossbow and some distance.”
“I’ll go rectify that, shall I?”
“Shall I,” Tobias muttered. He reluctantly took off after Alexander, his aching body sending up an immediate protest.
Alexander whirled, his knife raised. “Don’t come near me.”
Tobias jogged to a stop in front of him. “We want the same thing.”
“We really don’t,” Alexander said darkly.
Tobias grinned through the pain. It was everywhere: squeezing his joints, pulsing along bones that had been much longer ten minutes ago. Every scarred cut and bite mark lit up like they were fresh and oozing, not white with age.
“Oh yeah?” he said, leaning forward. “What do you want, Alex?”
“I want to rid the world of every foul creature like you.”
“Spoken like a true hunter,” Tobias said lightly. “Good thing I’m here to help.”
Alexander’s face did that thing again where it scurried through a dozen different expressions in not enough seconds. It was thoroughly entertaining to watch, especially when Alexander tried to pull his face back to stormy stoicism.
“A werewolf wants to help?” Alexander repeated.
“I do.” Tobias stepped closer, watching Alexander sway back with the movement. “I want you to kill my alpha.”
Alexander stilled. Those pale brows drew in so severely Tobias had to stop himself from reaching up to smooth them out.
“You’d kill your own pack?” Alexander said disgustedly.
“The whole pack? No. Some of them are unlucky assholes who got dragged into this as unwillingly as I did. But my alpha…” Tobias grimaced. “He’s evil. I don’t even believe in evil, but he’s evil.”
With that, he smacked Alexander in the shoulder and strode past him.
“Come on,” he said, pretending he didn’t notice Alexander visibly think about stabbing him. “I can explain the rest at my place.”
“Your place?” Alexander echoed.
“Yeah. Or do you like walking around with an open wound?”
Alexander scowled. It was a very expressive scowl. It suited his face the way some people suited smiles.
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” he declared.
Tobias paused at the edge of the parking lot. “That sucks! I was about to tell you everything. Layout of the barracks, arena, alpha’s office. His secret insta-kill weakness—”
Alexander cut him off. “How do I know you’re not tricking me?”
Tobias blinked. There was something underneath Alexander’s question, harsh and oddly sensitive. Like he’d been tricked by a werewolf before. Which would be a shock, except Tobias was willing to accept anything tonight. Maybe he had been tricked by a werewolf. Maybe that was how he got kicked out.
He stepped closer. Alexander did the same, knife still clenched beside him.
They met face-to-face under the flickering streetlight.
“I could have killed you a hundred times. I can’t do this on my own, and neither can you.” Tobias turned. He didn’t look back over his shoulder as he called, “You coming?”
He kept walking, heart in his throat. He knew he should have been waiting to hear a knife sail through the air, or footsteps racing off in another direction.
But there was something small and stupid in his chest insisting that Alexander had to follow.
He was his mate, this was how it worked: fate conspired to help the two of you together, or whatever the hell those fairy stories said.
He didn’t feel relieved when Alexander fell into step beside him. Just a sense of rightness, something clicking into place for the first time.
“Good boy,” he said unthinkingly.
Alexander glared at him, then averted his eyes.
But not before Tobias caught his pupils swelling. Alexander would swear it was loathing, but Tobias knew what it really was. It was mirrored in his own eyes every time he looked at his mate:
Desire.