11. Avery
11
AVERY
As if last night wasn’t bad enough, Caden’s standing proud in front of my house for some unknown reason, every inch of his carved body giving off an undeniable vibe of raw Alpha power. Every inch, because he’s stark naked.
A noise sticks in my throat when I catch myself staring at his huge—I snap my gaze away with a huff. He has every she-wolf in the pack panting after him whether he notices their rapt attention on him whenever he’s around or not. I won’t be lusting after him, too.
He’s fixated on the cottage. I watch him until the sky begins to lighten with the impending sunrise, frowning when he remains a still, muscled sentry.
The broken bond is less raw this morning. I’ll live with it. It just means ignoring the twinge of what I imagine a hot poker to the chest would be like every time I look at him.
This is fine. Totally fine.
An absolutely manageable pain screaming in every movement.
I’ve survived the worst things imaginable, what’s one more gash to my heart at his hand?
I first spotted him through the window when I got up with the sun to check on Lena, not liking the hacking sound of her cough. His surly growling must be what made the windows rattle in the early hours before dawn. I’m so used to the wind knocking the loose panes around in the rotting frames, I wrote it off, too drained from my first shift to bother stuffing rags against them to muffle the noise.
My wolf seems pleased by his presence, though she’s content as she is, stretched out and licking her paws. The only indication she gives that she’s aware of him are her pricked ears poised to listen for him.
Rolling my eyes, I pretend he’s not there. He’s ridiculous, probably suspicious enough of me suddenly finding out I have a wolf and the ability to shift, that he’s come up here himself.
A thrill swoops through me. I have a wolf. I bite my lip around a smile, marveling at the new sensation of my connection with her. She preens, tail wagging.
I’m so lost in thought over it, I drop the pot of honey I want to add to Lena’s tea on my foot. Cursing, I bang my fist on the counter.
An answering growl sounds from outside, loud enough to wake my sisters when it grows closer, as if Caden took several strides towards the cottage. I glare at the wall as if I’ll be able to burn a hole straight through it.
“Go bark up some other tree,” I mutter while picking up the sticky, broken pieces.
This was my last jar. I got a whole crate of it in town from a beekeeper the baker knows because the price is too high at the commissary on the ground floor of the bunkhouse. For the likes of me, anyway. It was a big enough pot to last us through winter.
Lena’s scratchy cough draws my attention. She rolls over with a feeble murmur and Beatrix automatically rubs her back in sleep.
The kitchens have honey in their stores. If I butter old Alma up with an anti-inflammatory paste for the arthritis she’s developed in her hands, she might look the other way. I’ll have to hope the head cook is feeling as doting as she used to when I was a pup, or that her hands are beginning to ache more with the cooler weather.
I salvage what I can of the spilled honey to add to the rusted tin kettle, then clean away the rest. By the time I’m finished preparing the girls oatmeal with dried wild raspberries I foraged over summer, the sun has risen above the trees, shining through the narrow windowpanes. Dust motes dance in the spotlight.
With my enhanced senses, my vision is sharper, allowing me to see much more detail than I previously could. I thought it was only last night while I was running in fur for the first time, everything appearing so new and vivid. If I concentrate, I can hear a bird making a nest beneath the eaves of our roof, a family of mice chittering in my herb garden, and the rasp of mucus in Lena’s chest. I swallow, hoping it’s not turning into pneumonia again.
This is the full strength I was born to have as a shifter, and it means I’ll be able to use my heightened senses to forage better for plants that can be difficult to find.
A thump at the door startles me out of my thoughts. My wolf lifts her nose with an interested sniff. I smell it, too. Cedar, though the warm comforting scent is more like it’s been heating for too long over a fire. Caden, and he’s not happy.
“Let’s get this over with,” I say with a resigned sigh.
I open the door, steeled to face the alpha along with the pain of rejection all over again. The overpowering scent of Caden all around the cottage weakens my knees. My wolf rolls on her back, mewling.
Except he’s not there. I blink, searching the sloping meadow.
He’s left a deer on the stoop. My mouth hangs open when I realize it’s the same one I tracked and failed to take down on my own last night.
I scan the area again, wondering why he’d bother bringing me meat. Especially after he made it clear last night by rejecting me in front of the entire pack that he wanted nothing to do with me.
Hesitation stops me from kicking it off the porch to the ground. Meat’s hard enough for us to come by. I can’t afford to be picky about where it comes from just because I would rather ingest poison foxglove and chew on the rusty nails holding this place together before eating anything Caden provided me.
Good mate , my wolf pipes up. Provider .
I bare my teeth at nothing since she’s inside me. She’s wrong. I’m the one that provides for my sisters. I don’t need his charity handouts.
I don’t know what she’s in such a great mood over. By rejecting me, it means he rejects her, too. She gives a nasty yip, snapping her teeth. Whatever, she’s on her own to figure it out.
Still, I’m not turning down the offering. Meat is meat, and to get it I didn’t have to listen to vulgar suggestions about how I could earn an extra helping of food from pack males like Lorne and his brothers, Dane and Weston, trying to show off their superior rank to the cohorts that hang around them.
I just needed my fated mate to reject me, and then, I don’t know, feel guilty enough about it to leave me with this consolation prize. Sorry I don’t want you, the least I can do is offer you a meal. Asshole.
My lips thin into a line before I haul the carcass into my arms, mildly appeased by the fact I’m strong enough to do it now.
Once I take care of the deer, I grab my clipping shears and a basket before strolling the rows of my herb garden. I reach the candleflower, glad it’s still in bloom thanks to the tricks Jade the traveling witch taught me to make my herbs last past their blooming seasons in the high altitude of Silver Mountain. This will help soothe Lena’s coughing and hopefully open her lungs.
Beatrix is up when I come back inside. She prods at the oatmeal with a wooden spoon.
“Do you ever get tired of oatmeal? I’d much rather have bacon.”
“It’s good for you.” I pull her hair from her sleep-mussed braid and redo it for her. She allows it, swatting me off only when I fuss with the ends. “They don’t serve anything this packed with nutrients down in the dining hall. Only greasy bacon, eggs, and sugared cornbread.”
She mumbles a complaint, rubbing her stomach. “But it’s bacon.”
My lips twitch. “Fine. I’ll snag you some if Alma has any left. I have to go down there to talk to her. Make sure Lena finishes the whole teapot, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Thanks.”
She snatches my hand before I move away, pulling me back in with a curious sniff. “You smell different. Wait, no, not different. More you, but also something else.”
My stomach clenches, worried her stronger nose can pick up remnants of Caden from when he had me in his arms before he shoved me away.
“I shifted,” I explain. “I’m not sure how it happened so late, but I have a wolf. Is that what you smell?”
“Avery!” Her eyes widen and she throws her arms around me. “This is amazing. What was it like? Is she beautiful? Tell me everything.”
“Later,” I say with a laugh.
I lay out the candleflower on my workbench and make quick work of stripping the yellow blooms to brew in tea, the leaves that are still perky with life to make a syrup with, and save the stalks to dry out by hanging them from the rafters overhead with the rest of my dried herbal collection. When I’m finished, I set it aside and mix up a paste for Alma’s arthritis.
The routine brings a moment of normalcy to ground me. Lena and Beatrix chat softly while I work, sharing a bowl of oatmeal. It allows me to push down the ever-present ache in my chest until it’s bearable. I don’t know how long it takes for a rejected bond to fade since there’s no one in recent memory in our pack to compare this experience with, but I hope it’s soon.
I give both of my sisters a kiss on the head before leaving for the commons. The dining pavilion is packed outside the hall. Small pups chase each other between the outdoor seating and two stone fireplaces with excited squeals, much to their tired dams’ annoyance as they call after them to come eat. Fresh brewed coffee and the delectable scent of bacon makes my mouth water.
For a moment, I’m struck by a pang of longing to be part of the laughter over shared baskets of steaming cornbread and platters of fried eggs.
Shaking it off, I bypass the doors between the fireplaces that lead inside to head around back. The kitchen is bustling with the morning rush for breakfast by the time I poke my head in.
Alma’s barking orders while mixing the next batch of cornbread batter. I hurry over with a full pitch prepared, only to be cut off by her before I open my mouth.
“Oh! Good, you’re here,” she says.
“Uh, yes?”
Is she psychic in her old age, too? She’d better watch it, or the pack will start calling her the next witchling. I fight to keep a smirk off my face.
She waves me off. “Well, don’t just stand there, pup. I need someone on bacon at the far burner. Don’t gape at me, go before it burns.”
I open and close my mouth, brows pinched. I want to point out to her that I haven’t been a kid in a long time, but she’s dismissed me, groaning when she bends to load a pan of batter into the oven.
“Welcome to kitchen duty,” Taryn says as I pass her.
“What?”
“I know. It sucks the most, definitely more than maintenance or laundry. At least on those rotations you get breaks. The kitchens are grueling work.” She frowns, waving a spatula. “Liam knows I hate cooking because it’s so much standing around waiting, so naturally I get assigned here every time I’m caught. That uptight bastard thinks it’s funny.”
I shake my head. “I’m still not following. Why does Alma think I’m also here to work? ”
“You didn’t see the new rotations posted this morning at Alpha Blackburn’s lodge? You’re on it.”
“Great.” Air gusts from my lungs.
Caden can take that deer and shove it up his perfectly toned ass. This is yet another way for him to punish me for things that aren’t my fault. I didn’t pick for us to be fated anymore than he did.
I’m usually left off the shared job duties. In the first few months of Caden’s reign after Alpha Dempsey passed away, every job I was put on ended up causing a disruption because people either didn’t want to be around me or they got aggressive to assert their dominant rank over me so I’d known my place was at the bottom of the hierarchy. I didn’t dare go to Caden to tell him how the workloads were dumped on me or that I never received my cut of payment. Eventually, my name stopped appearing on the roster.
“Enough yapping, get to work or you’ll be explaining to Alpha Blackburn why breakfast is delayed,” Alma grouses.
I sigh, taking over the abandoned pan of sizzling bacon. When the rush slows down, I’ll talk to Alma about the honey I want. Taryn chats my ear off. Despite being one of the few packmates to remain friendly, it’s more than she’s spoken to me in seven years. I don’t hate it.
“You’re burning that,” I point out.
She spares the charring eggs an uninterested glance. “Feed them to Tobin. He’ll eat anything.”
“Can I just—?” I take her spatula and scrape the well-done eggs into a serving dish.
Unlike times in the past where it was clear all the work was being forced on me, this isn’t so bad. She’s still helping, I just take over when she loses track of the task.
“Avery!” Alma calls after I’ve cooked two platters and saved Taryn’s batches of eggs from getting too crispy.
I turn off the burner and jog the last few steps when Alma beckons me impatiently. She shoves a large serving tray packed with food into my hands .
“Take the cornbread to the head table for a refill, then these other dishes go to the elders’ tables and this one can go to the unmated males and females at the back.”
Despite my best efforts to keep my face neutral, my expression gives me away.
“No pouting, now. Serving’s part of duties here. Get used to it.”
She nudges me and returns her attention to a male leaning against the counter talking to Emily, a she-wolf who usually comes to see me after she’s fooled around with whoever’s caught her fancy. She hasn’t acknowledged me once since I’ve been here.
“How many times do I have to remind you not to stand around? If you’ve got time to stand, you’re not working hard enough,” Alma blusters.
If either of them had time to idle, they could’ve served this food instead of me. I glance at Taryn and she gives me a thumbs up. She’s not the one who has to go serve her jerk of an alpha fresh off a mate bond rejection.
Rolling my shoulders back, I brave the swinging double doors with my chin held high. The din of chatter pauses. Caden’s blue eyes snap to me for a beat, then slide past me as if I don’t exist. Callie and Liam glance from me to Caden between them, then to each other. Everyone else resumes eating, but I feel the weight of their gazes following me as I make my way to his table first.
The closer I get, the more the bond acts up to remind me it’s there, throbbing in my chest. As though proximity will somehow magically knit the spurned connection back together.
He’s deep in conversation with Liam while I plop the cornbread baskets in front of him. He doesn’t pause, though the corners of his mouth turn down. A sharp pain twinges in my nerve endings and I stifle a gasp, refusing to allow him to see me hurting.
My wolf’s not impressed with the ignoring act. She also wants to steal the bacon off his plate, and I need to focus on standing still instead of darting my hand out. My mind stutters over the division of my own complex emotions and her baser impulses .
Liam clears his throat when I linger. I jolt, ignoring the snickers from Lorne and his brothers at the other table full of Cormac’s side of Blackburns nearby.
Lorne’s grating laugh cuts off when I move to the other table of elders before serving Cormac’s. He strides over, leaning over me to grab the platter of bacon I set down.
“That goes to my father’s table,” Lorne corrects.
A cup slams down on the head table hard enough to break something, possibly the table going by the violent crack of wood echoing through the room. It’s followed by a harsh snarl from Caden that makes Lorne stiffen. He steps out of my space, but still blocks my way once I’ve given the table the other plate.
An irritated rumble sounds in my chest. I should shift. Charge Lorne and knock him down. Make him submit to me with my teeth around his neck. I pinch my thigh to anchor myself before my wolf makes this situation worse by challenging him.
“There’s an order to these things, little witchling. Get it right.”
Rather than take the food he wanted first so badly, he dumps it on the floor. The room is silent except for Cormac’s husky chuckle.
Lorne lifts a brow. “Well? Clean it up.”
His brothers can’t contain their laughter any longer. I don’t dare look to Caden, though his presence suffocates me from several feet away, eyes boring into my back.
“Enough. Sit down, Lorne,” Caden bites out.
He ignores the order for a few seconds, holding my gaze. Then he backs away, tracking me as I finish handing out the remaining dishes on my way back to the kitchen to look for a broom and dustpan.
The whispering’s worse when I return. I set my jaw and silently clean up Lorne’s mess as my stomach burns. Part of me wants to dump it in his lap. It’s what he deserves, but I’d rather not paint a bigger target on my back than there already is.
Without a word, I leave the hall and almost collide with Taryn. She eyes the dustpan in my hand curiously .
“What happened out there? The alpha sounded pissed. We heard it over Alma’s barking.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Yeah, okay. That’s why your face looks like that and your eye is twitching.”
“Nothing,” I repeat. “It’s fine. Just male posturing. Lorne always making sure I don’t forget my place.”
She tosses an unimpressed look through the small window in the door. “I hope a witch curses his dick. That’d take him down at least twenty pegs.”
“I’d pay to see that.” I stifle a surprised smile, not used to having anyone take my side other than my sisters.
“He deserves it.” She flips off the door with a gesture I’ve seen the humans in Ashbury use when they’re angry with each other.
A snort escapes me. It helps chase away the indignation upsetting my stomach.
I keep busy enough that Alma doesn’t make me go back out there again, sending Emily when she catches her flirting instead of cooking. It works great to keep me off serving responsibilities, but by the time the breakfast shift ends Alma’s nowhere in sight.
“Where did Alma go?” I ask Taryn.
“Home for a nap. Martine manages the kitchen for lunch,” she answers.
“Oh, I wanted to talk to her.” I thumb the tin of paste shoved into my pocket.
“Good luck. She’s grouchy with anyone who tries to wake her up before she’s snoozed for at least three hours.”
There goes my plan. I’ll have to try to catch her later to bribe her for letting me access the honey stores.
Taryn balances two plates of food and nudges me through the back door. The others on kitchen duty are eating together. She leads us to a shady patch of grass and plops down.
“I put some extra on yours. I didn’t see your sisters and thought you’d want to take some back for them,” she says.
I chew my lip, peeking at her. “What’s up with that? ”
“With what?” She’s tearing into her food, stacking her eggs and bacon on her cornbread to make a sandwich.
“Talking to me. Being…nice.”
She shrugs. “You’re pack. Why wouldn’t I talk to you?”
A lump forms in my throat. I pick at the food on my plate.
“You haven’t talked to me in a long time. I mean, not like this. Like it matters.”
Taryn stops eating to level me with a look. “Part of that is because you stay pretty secluded. Since—you know.”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t have any problem with you, Avery. You’re the girl who would braid my hair so that I didn’t get it all tangled while I played with Callie because I told you it hurt when my mom brushed it. You taught me how to swim. And the time I ate those wild berries I shouldn’t have, you were the one to run all the way back to the commons to get the healer.”
I nibble on a piece of bacon, closing my eyes to keep the emotion clogging my throat at bay. If I hadn’t made a point of making myself scarce, would I have kept some of the friendships I believed were lost?
She bumps her shoulder against mine, and I don’t move away.