Chapter 6 – Wilder
Chapter Six
Wilder
Fury courses through my system at a level that’s disturbing.
Callum knew he wasn’t supposed to engage with Lacey, but he’s always been unpredictable.
He’s really fucking good at his job and terrible at taking orders.
It makes it dangerous to trust him when how a job is completed matters just as much as the desired outcome.
I’m sure he kept her safe, but his instructions were to do so without her ever knowing he was watching.
Callum locks Lacey’s front door, and I sigh, leading the way to the waiting car.
The unpredictable alpha was supposed to meet us at the ring following Grim’s fight. When he didn’t show, it began to tickle at my instincts.
I had a bad feeling, and while patching up my number two, Grim stated he was also concerned. That was enough to force us into action, but for several hours, we simply watched and waited.
The tracker on his phone is highly accurate, though not to the point it could signal his location within the building Lacey lives in.
Callum rarely sleeps at the apartment I rented to make it easier to surveil my stepsister, but he does on occasion.
I gaslit myself into believing he simply fell asleep on the couch out of boredom. Thinking back on it, that doesn’t make sense for multiple reasons.
First, he should never sleep while on duty. It’s become Callum’s responsibility to guard Lacey while Grim and I are at the fight rings. Falling asleep on the job would not only be out of character for him. It would also be a reprimand-worthy offense.
Secondly, his hyper ass almost never sleeps.
We make it out to the car, and I shove Grim toward the back door. He huffs but climbs in first, taking the seat facing away from the front of the car. Once he’s settled, I spin around, grabbing Callum and pushing him toward the still-open door.
“Get in, asshole,” I growl.
My teeth grind together, and I adjust the collar on my button-down before following him into the vehicle.
The door closes behind me, and I turn to Callum, preparing to interrogate him. I need to determine how fully he went against my orders, and if the situation is even salvageable at this point.
“Did you fuck her?” Grim growls the question, jabbing a meaty finger at Callum.
Tact of a wrecking ball, that one.
I swear, he used to be more nuanced before the decay set in. Then again, before I sent him to have sessions with Lacey, he never would have cared enough about anything to ask the single sentence.
“If I did?” Callum asks, grinning ferally.
Sighing, I shove out of my seat, connecting with Grim’s chest with both palms.
“He’s purposely baiting you.” I fall back against the leather as the vehicle finally takes off. Nice of them to notice we’re here. Goddamn, I’m tired. “You’d better not be that stupid.” My hand flies out, thumping Callum in the gut.
Grim would rip him apart, and I don’t have any delusions that I’d be able to stop him.
Callum releases a satisfying oomph and slaps my hand away. “I don’t know why anything I do with Lacey is your business. The two of you are more than capable of making a move if you’re interested. I don’t police your time with her. Don’t try that shit when it’s my time.”
“I’m going to murder you with my bare hands,” Grim growls as his eyes narrow.
“Bring it on.” Callum chuckles. “You might have brute strength, but we both know who’s more efficient.”
Jesus Christ.
It has to be close to six in the morning, and these two are never going to stop.
Not until they both have a bond with Lacey.
My sweet stepsister.
We didn’t meet until I was well into adulthood, which makes it significantly less weird that I want her like I’ve never craved anything or anyone.
Our first encounter was unfortunate, but I learned an important lesson that night.
Three Years Ago
My neck rolls from side to side as I try to determine how much longer I’ll be forced to endure this party. It’s to kick off the wedding rehearsal week festivities for my dads and their fiancée.
I don’t begrudge my fathers their happiness. They deserve to bond and have a life after my mom. She passed away when I was fifteen. It really fucking sucked, but I don’t believe they should have to be alone forever.
My mom loved the hell out of my dads. That’s how I know she would want them to move on and really live their lives.
While I’m not upset they’re remarrying, I’m also not sure I want a front-row view to watching them fall in love.
I never put much thought into what kind of omega I expected them to settle on, but I don’t hate Dawn. She’s a little bland, not accustomed to our lifestyle at all, and from what I hear, she has a daughter of her own.
I’ve met Dawn but not her offspring.
It’s not like we’ll be close or anything.
I’ve been out of the house for six years. The daughter is about to turn eighteen or just turned eighteen—I didn’t care enough to fully listen to that conversation—but either way, she’ll be on her way out too.
No one wants to live at home with newlyweds.
Not unless they have no other option, and I know my fathers well enough to understand they’ll throw money at the problem to gain their freedom.
Likely in the form of paying for her college tuition.
Consequently, the same thing they did for me back when they didn’t even have a brand-new fiancée to fuck all over the house.
Yeah, I don’t see that poor woman lasting long. I’d do everything in my power to escape the happy new couple too. Grabbing my glass of Scotch off the table at my side, I scan the room.
I’m still not sure if Dawn understands what she’s marrying into, but if all goes according to plan, I’ll take over for my fathers.
They’ll be free of the world they’ve been desperate to escape since Mom died, and I’ll be the one to take over fixing the problems of Boston’s most elite crime families.
There were all-out wars between the reigning families thirty years ago.
Only, my fathers proposed a solution. They stepped out of the equation completely, instead taking on a more managerial role.
Judicial? Hell, even I don’t know how to describe what they do, and I’ve been training for years to take over for them.
They settle disputes, broker transactions, mediate between the reigning families, and fix any issues that arise before they can bubble over into full-blown catastrophes.
My currency is secrets. Information keeps me and my family protected, and while it’s a new position, I’m adapting quickly. One day soon, I plan to be the very best at what I do.
My head tilts as a woman stumbles away from the crowd, glancing over her shoulder as she bolts toward the hallway that leads away from the ballroom.
She’s unfamiliar, and I should recognize everyone here tonight. Her gaze moves to her feet as she holds up the bottom of the light bluish-green dress that she’s clad in.
She doesn’t make eye contact or even glance up as she passes me, but my nostrils flare.
If I wasn’t leaning against the wall, I might fall over. That’s how shocking my reaction is to her scent.
She smells electric, like the weather right after a lightning storm, and it’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.
My body tingles, and I shove off the wall, following her down the corridor.
I wait outside the women’s bathroom like a total fucking creep. My head buzzes as my mind helpfully replays that smell.
She’s not just a scent match… She’s something more.
I’ve never been led around by my instincts, but I can’t seem to fight the urge to learn more about her.
She pops out of the bathroom and squeaks when she spots me leaning against the wall opposite the door. It’s like a magnet pulls me across the hallway, and the next thing I know, my hands are on her shoulders as I push her up against the wall just next to the bathroom door.
She would have every right to slap me away or scream for help.
If I was in my right mind, I’d be appalled by my behavior, but all I can focus on is huffing hits of her scent.
It’s truly indescribable.
Those electric notes make no fucking sense, but there are lightly floral and sweet fruity undertones. Whatever it is seems to knock all rational thought from my mind, and I bend, burying my nose in her throat.
“What’s your name?” I growl out the question, barely holding myself back from licking her skin.
Shit.
I’m too far gone—acting like one of those rabid alphas they tranquilize.
“L-Lacey.” Her hands come to rest on my forearms, and she groans, shaking her head. “Why do you smell like that?”
“Wilder,” I murmur, “and I’d very much like to know the same thing. Which house are you a guest of?”
Based on which family she’s associated with, I’ll have an idea of how much scheming I’m going to have to do to make her mine.
There were seven original families in the old days.
With mine removed, there are six, but they often make marriage pacts with one another to secure territory and encourage peace.
Someone is much less likely to attack a rival house that houses their daughter.
At least, if they have even a modicum of decency.
That could be complicated if she’s promised to someone else, but my entire job is to broker deals and peaceful transactions.
“House?” she whispers. “I’m here with my mom. It’s her pre-wedding party thing.”
My lips drag along her cheek as I pull back, my addled mind working double time to catch up.
If she’s here with Dawn…
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, shaking my head and taking a large step back. “How old are you?”
Her eyes widen, and she sputters, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’ll be eighteen in eleven days.”
Way too young for me.
Hell, if she were freshly eighteen, it wouldn’t make it any better. We’re at two totally different stages in our lives. A six-year age difference isn’t much when both parties are in their twenties or above, but I’ve got way more life experience than she does.
“Sorry about”—I wave a hand—“all of this.” I take another step back and offer a tight smile. “Welcome to the family, little sister.” And with that, I spin around and meander back down the hallway toward the party.
I’m going to need a lot of alcohol to make my system forget her electric scent, and even more to be around her from now until the wedding.
Present Day
It’s been three years since that fucking party, and I still remember every note of her complex scent. I’ve given her space to grow into her own, but she’s about to turn twenty-one right after Christmas.
I’ve waited long enough.
We’ve seen each other over the years, and she’s never said a word about how I invaded her space that first night. She’s also never let on that she’s as attracted to my scent as I am to hers, but I have seen the looks she shoots my way when she doesn’t know I’m watching.
She’s attracted to me, even if she thinks she shouldn’t be. There’s nothing weird about the two of us being together. It’s a well-known fact that stepsiblings often end up bonded after their parents. It’s simple biology.
My dads are inherently drawn to her mother’s scent, and I’m unnaturally obsessed with the way Lacey smells.
It may have been taboo fifty or a hundred years ago, but times are changing. Blended families have become more frequent than they once were, thus leading to more cases of scent matches within stepfamilies.
If nothing else, I learned the importance of verifying someone’s age before following my nose to their throat.
The memory of that nightmare replays in my mind, and I grimace.
Not that I’ve had to worry about verifying any ages.
Since that night, my system hasn’t shown interest in a single person.
It’s made it easy to stay celibate, but I’ve also spent the last three years focused on building my empire and solidifying my position as the head of my family.
I’m finally at a place where I feel confident I’ll be able to protect Lacey from my lifestyle, and my patience at waiting has run out.
My fathers are living up their second chance at love in a completely different state and celebrating their anniversary with things like a world cruise.
That means they don’t get to have an opinion on my relationship with their stepdaughter.
Not unless it’s clapping me on the back and saying congratulations.