Chapter 9
Asoft knock comes at the door, and I open it to find Jocko.
His smile lights up when he sees me, and he eyes the headpiece a bit. I cut a section of the curtain into a square, folded it into a triangle, and tied it beneath my hair. It covers my roots, and the tip of the triangle stops at the back of my head.
“To hide the bruise,” I say, then eye what he’s wearing—a pair of dress pants and a button-up, his curls gelled back. “You sure did your part.”
He eyes me right back. “Let’s see a spin.”
My make shift curtain dress doesn’t do me the same justice. I wrapped the dark-red fabric around the back of my waist and up around my neck before bringing it back down to a tight twisted knot in the center of my stomach. A large gap of skin is exposed between my breasts, and my back is left open.
It hugs me as I twirl. He claps, and I start to laugh. Slowing my spin, I step toward him; he hooks his solid arm into mine, and we take our time heading down the hall.
“Warn me if you’re going to panic tonight, please. I haven’t told Stark we’re still missing checkers.”
Redness flushes my cheeks as we step into the main room, and I cover my mouth while laughing. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m kidding.”
I glare at him. His arm drops from mine, and he takes a wide step over, leaving a deliberate stretch of space between us.
Even Jocko can’t fight pack expectations.
I’m an outsider. The air in the room is less than before.
All eyes are on us—including a glaring Stark.
His hand is going white, gripped around a knife at the kitchen island.
There are close to two dozen people in the room, including Nikki, Hudry, Kiya, and Mitus.
The rest of the table is filled with gray- and white-haired men.
That tightness is back in my chest.
The Elders’ Council.
It’s made up of Elders who manage all four cohorts—four sections of land the Toridge territory is divided into, following the compass: North, East, South, and West. Some are involved in the day-to-day, like Graden or Otis. The others step in only when necessary.
I don’t know if the rest of the world runs things this way. Our species has shrunk across the world thanks to the active missions of humans. But we still exist. We drift in hidden places like this—the northern Ontario woods of Canada.
Graden stands from the end of the table and waves me over. “Welcome, Aloka. We thought this was overdue. We’ve all met you before, but you likely don’t remember. You were quite small then.”
Someone coughs.
“Thank you for including me.” I give a polite bow of my upper body to the Elders at the table. Maybe I can convince some of the other council members to let me go home.
I keep behind Jocko as he moves over to the kitchen and starts bringing dishes filled with food to the table.
Nikki does the same. She’s in a long navy dress angled across her legs, touching the floor on the one side.
Though she doesn’t wear a headpiece. With the council here, I’m happier to look a bit out of place than questioned for my hair color.
Once the table is full of most of the guests, I take an empty seat closer to the middle, rubbing my clammy hands on my dress.
Stark walks over to the table with ease, dressed in a black dress shirt.
He pauses and looks over at me, then back to the chair I usually sit in.
Nikki takes it with a wide grin, and my heart calms to a regular rhythm.
He looks more than okay, despite an entire council of Elders here and whatever Jocko hinted at earlier.
The Elder next to me shifts and takes my hand. “I’d just like to offer my condolences for your loss. Pratt offered an immense amount of support to the pack, and without him, we notice greatly.”
“Thank you. I miss him.”
He gives my hand a squeeze and turns back to the table.
“Let’s eat.” Stark’s voice consumes the room.
Towers of well-cooked steak, piping-hot potato dishes, and salads fill the table. I avoid most of it, heaping my plate with green once again.
“Steak dinner? Aren’t we spoiled? Thank you, young man,” an extra-Elder-looking fellow says down the table. The skin around his eyes is in permanent folds, his gray hair closer to white.
I pierce a piece of lettuce, and the itching intensity grows within me.
All other table members are talking away about things I have no interest in, like turning while at a run, except Stark, who is boring his gaze into me.
I squint at him, and his stare sharpens.
He lowers his eyes to my plate, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he grips his fork, his knuckles whitening.
I shrug at him, and the fork in his hand bends in half.
He looks like he wants to plan my murder.
Maybe that’s why the council let him off easy or he blames me.
Nikki’s hand shoots across the large table but just reaches his fingertips.
Heat builds across my chest—and good thing this dress has lots of air to breathe. I refocus on my own food.
“You need anything?” Her soft voice comes through.
Maybe he’ll let me stay over tonight.
There’s no way he didn’t hear that, or anyone else.
I slide back from the table and go to top up my already-full water glass.
“Can I get anyone anything?” I ask in a normal voice, not dropping to the flirtatious level of Nikki.
I can’t believe in my body’s reaction. He wants to murder you and is practically a forced chaperone.
Get over yourself. You know you’re alone for life now.
But the beautiful darkness of his coat floods my senses.
Five hands shoot up, all holding glasses, and I take my time filling them.
Well, at least the girl has manners despite her being a useless human. The old man’s voice rings in my head—one of the Elders—and the glass in my hand slips and shatters across the mahogany floor.
Spoke too soon.
I don’t get why they think it’s so funny to talk about me to everyone like I’m not even here. I should just tell them to talk to my damn face.
I take a careful step over a large glass shard. One dropped thought in the pack’s connection and I could make them all realize I’m not just this useless human—it’s just that I shouldn’t.
Stark comes up behind me with a broom and I do a double take at the domestic side of him sweeping across the floor.
“Here. It’s my mess.” Tingles shoot up my arm when I grip over his hand.
We both let go, and the broom bounces off the counter to the floor.
I step back without thinking and a pain sears up my foot.
I lift it, sliding over to grip the counter to get a look.
A small amount of blood drips from my heel.
I glance up at Stark. Did he feel it? That same look he had earlier today is in his eyes. Those wide-set shoulders rise with a deep breath, and I keep my eyes away from my hand despite the sensation.
Nikki steps up next to him and grabs the broom still on the floor. “I’ll clean up. You go back to your dinner.”
“Wow, you are breakable,” Nikki says, watching the blood drip from my foot.
“Seems like it lately. Excuse me.” I sidestep her to grab a cloth to wipe up the blood. Meanwhile, Stark seems to be in his own world, frozen. I make a hop toward the bedrooms, avoiding making a blood trail.
Jocko steps in like a wall and grabs my arm. “What’s got into you?”
“Glass, in particular.” A light laugh erupts from me and tears start down the sides of my cheeks. I messed up.
“There’s nothing funny about you being hurt.” Stark’s voice stops my laugh short.
“Sure. Anyway, I’m going to go bandage it.”
“I got you,” Jocko says.
“You should get back to the Elders.” Stark places a hand on Jocko’s shoulder.
Jocko shifts away and drops my arm, causing me to wobble. “Yell if you need me.”
I nod, and he winks behind Stark’s back before leaving us to help Nikki. I have no idea what he’s winking about.
“You two seem friendly.” Stark places his own hands where Jocko’s once were. Light pins and needles form right under his fingertips. I don’t want to squirm and draw attention to it.
“We’re panic buddies now, so I’d say pretty close.”
Stark’s eyebrows raise in question, his grip tightening on my arm. He helps me all the way down the hallway and into my bedroom, balancing on the chair next to the large bookcases.
He picks up my foot to look, and my dress rides up to the tops of my thighs.
“Um, can I have my foot back?”
It takes a moment to register, and he drops it.
I lift it up onto my thigh, and my dress slides all the way up again, only covering the important things.
Stark’s breath hitches, and the blue in his eye glows.
He pauses, then grabs the medical kit next to scraps of red fabric on my dresser.
That mouth of his forms back into a hard line.
“I had nothing nice to wear. I’ll buy you new curtains.”
“It’s fine.” He takes in my dress, dropping his head as his eyes trace the fabric between my breasts. I don’t breathe until he looks back at my foot. The bleeding seems to have stopped but the glass shard still sticks out. If I pull it at the same time as mending it, the blood will clot.
Stark lifts gauze and a white tape roll to it.
“Shouldn’t you be at dinner too?”
“It’s fine.” His favorite two words today. And he wonders why I don’t ask him questions.
“Could you do me a favor?” I know last time I asked, he was less than pleased.
“What in the spirits could you want right now?” His voice is low to keep the others from hearing, but it doesn’t take the intensity away.
“I just wanted water, remember? Could you grab me a glass?”
He gives me a nod and stands.
I rip the glass out the second his footsteps go down the hallway. Letting heat pour down, I bite my cheek hard, forming blood in my mouth. The heat builds, burning through my foot, and I watch as the deep cut lightens in color.