Chapter 14 Dakota #2
That . . . made sense. The lines of the spell were kinetic and mental, and built like a small cage. Those, in different configurations, could mean almost nothing, or they could kill a person.
For some reason, I believed him.
No, not some reason. Because of the disgusted way he was looking at her. He might not like werewolves, but hating pedophiles was universal among decent people.
So without thinking another second about it, I closed my eyes and sketched out the lines of magic, then snapped them shut around the woman.
The woman who almost immediately lost her balance as she tried to sit in her chair, and ended up landing on her ass on the floor.
Everyone stared. Jillian giggled around her margarita. Jax’s shoulders relaxed just a tiny bit. My ancestor, standing behind her, looked up to meet my eye and nodded approvingly. “Well done. You’re a quick study.”
Jax looked over at me, interest in his gaze, like he knew I’d had something to do with the fall. I didn’t even try to pretend otherwise, just shrugged and smirked.
This time, it was his turn to stink up the room with his lust.
Dinner was a tense affair, to no one’s surprise.
The woman, whose name was Giselle, had quite the rough go of dinner. Apparently nothing tasted quite right.
I’d have felt bad about torturing someone like that, but next to me, Jillian—strong, brave, amazing Jillian—was drinking one margarita after another, clearly trying to drown out the demons of this terrible, shitty pack and what they’d put her through.
I hoped Giselle’s hair fell out and she had inexplicable, painful acne on her genitals for the rest of her life.
Grant was trying to pretend that the whole thing was simply what everyone had been expecting for years.
Of course Jax and his “strays” would come back to the fold, and this whole situation was merely a formality.
Jax continued to tell him, oh so kindly, that he was a fucking jackass and that wasn’t going to happen.
I was calming down, though. Because seriously, this Grant guy? Couldn’t take Jax out if Jax had one hand tied behind his back. Even as a human, he wasn’t all that coordinated. I doubted he’d magically be graceful as a wolf.
He was smaller than Jax, and weaker than Jax, and just . . . nobody.
Toward the end of dinner, I’d slipped off to the bathroom, but before I could return to the table, the huge blond guy slipped into the room behind me, and leaned against the door, holding it closed.
He glanced at the stalls, taking a cursory sniff, then curling his nose in disgust, which .
. . fair. Public restrooms were gross even when you didn’t have a werewolf nose.
When you did? It didn’t get better, that was for sure.
“I do not know how wolves can live in city like this,” he said, shaking his head, and that was what made me pause instead of shrilly insisting he let me out of this bathroom right now. His voice was low and rough, and weirdly, he had a Russian accent. How had I not noticed during dinner?
Because he hadn’t said a word at the table with the others.
He shook his head again, this time as though trying to clear it, then turned to look at me. “Cash. Cash is . . . is alive?”
Huh.
“Why?”
His face twisted up, looking literally pained, and I realized that was what he had been searching for earlier. Cash. The smell of Cash’s blood was still sitting in the front hall, still seeping from his slowly-healing wounds. He’d been looking for Cash, because he could smell him.
What was more, he seemed to give a damn about that.
“If . . . if Cash wishes to leave us, then . . . is his right. Right, yes? There are too many rights in English.”
My hackles started to rise, then I realized . . . context. He hadn’t said there were too many rights in America. He’d said too many rights in English. Because “right” had so damn many definitions in English, and it didn’t seem to be his primary language, so he wasn’t sure he had the correct word.
“Yes,” I agreed. “It’s his right if he wants to leave.
But he didn’t come asking into our pack.
He just came to warn us that your people were planning to attack us.
But . . . he’s not well, but he’s alive, and he’s healing.
Slowly, but we think he’ll be okay, thanks to some quick work by my mentor. ”
The young man’s handsome face twisted in anger, but he wasn’t looking at me. He set his jaw and closed his eyes, taking multiple deep breaths before looking at me once again. “This is trick.”
I frowned at that, because that seemed like a weird thing to say.
Did he think I was trying to trick him by saying Cash would live?
Or was he saying the challenge was a trick?
Why would Cash try to trick us? Hell, Grant wasn’t even suggesting that Cash had been wrong, he was just acting like it was normal that he planned to challenge Jax to a fight and try to steal control of our pack.
My doubt must have shown on my face, but the giant guy didn’t growl or glare or anything I expected from someone enormous and . . . okay, I could admit my own bias. I had assumed he wasn’t very bright because he was enormous and muscley.
Instead, he looked mildly frustrated and huffed a sigh, the way Jax did sometimes when he didn’t know how to say what he wanted to.
The language barrier, I realized, was probably the biggest thing getting in the way.
“I don’t imagine you speak Japanese?” I asked.
He glanced up at me in interest, cocking his head. “No. Only Russian.”
“Sorry, I can’t help with the language barrier, then. I’ve only got Japanese and some German.”
He smiled at that for a second, but then it dropped, and he shook his head again. “My English isn’t so bad, only frustrating. You are alpha mate, yes?”
“Yes. You know that.”
“No. Is . . . this is not normal. Most alphas do not make their mate alpha mate. You are alpha mate. Equal.”
For a second, I just stared at him.
Alpha mate.
Equal.
I sucked in a breath and stared at him. “That fucker. He’s not going to challenge Jax. He’s going to challenge me.”
Without a word, the blond man jerked his head in a nod, and left the bathroom.