Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
Winter had one hand on Cara’s shoulder and the other on Cori’s while she waited for Westley to come downstairs.
She hadn’t realized the battle would be right outside this window pane.
Hundreds had already gathered on the farm, and more were making their way up the long driveway.
She glared at them. It was easy to tell which ones were from the Hampden pack—they were wearing layers of black leather. It reminded her of Mellie’s jacket.
After West had bathed, she’d asked him to call off the battle one last time. She’d reminded him that Hardin’s report confirmed Fang was cheating. He’d refused to listen and asked her to leave. Actually, he’d growled in her face and told her to get out like she was Everett.
He’d shut down entirely and pushed her away. He was scared to fight, and it frightened her. So, she’d left his room without a fuss to give him some space.
Mellie waved a drumstick in front of her. “Are you sure you don’t want something to eat?”
“No. I’m not hungry.”
Mellie set the meat back on the plate, handing the entire platter over to someone named Guinevere. She had strawberry-blonde hair and wore a milkmaid dress.
Winter shot daggers at the big-breasted twat, wondering how many times she’d fucked her mate.
“Easy, Winter. Those eyes could kill someone.” Mellie moved beside her, forcing Cara out of the way. “Are you feeling okay?”
Winter rubbed her neck, fighting the pain in her chest. “I’m fine.” The lie sputtered out before she could stop it.
Mellie stared out the window. “I hate this, too.” Her reflection revealed tears brimming her eyes.
“Dammit, Melli, I’m trying to stay positive. You can’t cry on me.” She scratched Cori’s ears a little harder.
“Sorry.” She wiped them away then eyed her knowingly. “You stink, by the way.”
Winter turned towards Mellie, noting the sharp edges of her profile. She looked so much like West from this angle. “If I tell you something, will you promise me you won’t tell him?”
Her hard features softened, exposing her warm smile. “Of course.”
In a room full of nervous chatter, Winter leaned in and whispered her secret.
Winter was falling in love?
Mellie tried to be happy, widening her eyes as if delight, not shock, coursed through her system. “Your secret’s safe with me,” she said, her voice higher than usual.
Winter half-smiled.
Mellie was worried.
West had told her a while ago that Winter—the wolf with witch blood in her veins—was his true mate, but he’d never said anything about pursuing their mating bond. She’d thought he’d come out of hiding to see Keltia before the fight, not Winter.
This was bad for several reasons.
Very. Bad.
He wasn’t capable of love.
Anytime Mellie’s hopes with Xavier had climbed too high, West would always say the same line: alphas don’t love, they take. He would crush Winter’s blossoming heart because that was what her baby brother did—he broke things.
Winter was still petting Cori while watching the incoming crowd. All seventy-seven members of the Sterling Pack were present. The Hampden pack, nearly twice the size, was still filtering in. Any shifter from across the land who wanted to witness the fight had been welcomed on the property as well.
Everything was happening so fast, West and Winter included. Mellie wondered if she should warn Winter to be careful, that her brother was foolhardy when it came to the heart, that it had been his stone-cold influence that robbed her of love. In the end, she said nothing. It felt too hypocritical.
“Are you sure you don’t want any chicken? I can call Guinevere back over.”
“Fuck Guinevere.”
Alright, Winter was definitely on edge. Duly noted. But she would really have to understand that her colorful vocabulary doesn’t translate the same way in this time period. Also, that it’s not polite to borrow someone’s clothing without asking.
The background chatter faded.
Mellie didn’t need to look to hear her brother descending the staircase.
His heavy footsteps gave him away. Bold and certain.
West would maintain his confidence for the sake of the pack, despite being afraid.
Tonight would be his fourth hierarchy battle since taking on the title five years ago.
And this time, the stakes were higher. There were two packs to claim.
She took a steadying inhale before turning around to face him. His hazel eyes were bright, considering he hated fight nights. Winter was to thank for that, she supposed, but it didn’t seem to mellow out his anger. He stomped towards them, eyebrows lowered to his lashes like he was about to yell.
Winter slid behind her, making the window pane squeak. “Hide me.”
“What?”
The floorboards rattled in her brother’s wake. Mellie stepped aside, avoiding his warpath. “I’m not your shield.”
She was expecting West to grab Winter’s throat—the same way he would treat anyone who frustrated him—but he stopped short, tugging on his hair instead.
“I didn’t mean to yell,” he said, his voice breaking.
Where had his bravado gone?
Winter swallowed audibly. “I know.”
Mellie’s eyebrows shot up. Surely, this wasn’t the same witch shouting obscenities about the sweetest omega on this farm just a moment ago. What was going on with them?
West held Winter’s face, stroking her cheekbone. “Thank you for staying.”
“Always,” she whispered.
Mellie watched the pinpoints of Winter’s eyes expand and her body still. It reminded Mellie of a doe—right before her brother would pounce and rip its head off. Oh, dear. Winter would soon be carrion.
Her brother didn’t simply break things, he killed them.
This was bad.
Bad, bad, bad.
Word had spread quickly that he’d dismissed Keltia.
Mellie didn’t understand why until now. An image came back to mind: Keltia crouched on the hay bales, sobbing and distraught with a butcher knife pressed against her inner thigh.
If Mellie hadn’t gone looking for her last night, his favorite omega might not be alive right now.
He should’ve been the one patching Keltia up and wiping her tears.
But once again, Mellie had cleaned up his mess.
She couldn’t even tell him Keltia was upset because she’d promised not to.
If a fifteen-year relationship wasn’t enough time to change her brother’s mind about love, Winter was in serious trouble.
And yet they were kissing like no one was watching.
West braced Winter against the window as she arched into him. He growled, slapping his palm on the frosted glass. It splintered. Unlike the rest of the room, Winter didn’t flinch. She grinned.
West pulled back, catching her lower lip between his teeth and taking it with him. He released her with a grunt then shouted over his shoulder.
“Everyone out!”
Mellie scowled. She’d never seen her brother this flustered before a hierarchy battle. Everyone obeyed, wary eyes bouncing to one another in silent conversation.
“You heard him.” Everett waved his arms, clearing the space for his dearly beloved.
She was leaving anyway. “Ginger, Yarrow, Anise, Pepper, Poppy, Cara, and Cori let’s go. You’re staying upstairs.” The pups whined but followed. “Don’t cry, I have treats.” Their tails fluffed right up as they raced each other up the steps.
Winter couldn’t conjure a coherent thought.
Her brain was rattling off data and statistics about sexual trauma, failed relationships, and cheating partners while her heart and ovaries were beating as loud as drums, refusing to listen to reason.
Who was in charge here? Because she was currently curling her toes as West’s tongue worked its way down her throat.
His hand, the one that fractured glass, was creeping closer to her neckline. Fingers forged to snap were gentle, coaxing her sweater down. His soft lips left hers and worked their way south. Slow, reverent kisses caressed her skin, leaving a tingling trail all the way to her collarbone.
He licked along its length and said, “If I am yours, then you are very much mine.” His fangs grazed flesh.
Run, her legs screamed.
She’d never felt anything this intense before. There was a sharp bang on the window, so loud it made her jump. It sounded like a rock hitting the pane.
She ducked out of West’s grip because that was way too close.
What did he think would happen—she’d let him claim her?
Right now? Here? She turned to check her reflection.
While fixing her top knot, something gold caught her eye.
She squinted for a better view, then saw hundreds of eyes staring back at her.
Shit.
All those werewolves had witnessed West devastate her mouth. Was that why someone had tossed a stone? Suddenly, she was burning up.
Everett stepped around the corner. “It’s time.”
Her mate nodded once, leaving her behind. There was no goodbye. Nothing more. He exchanged a somber look with his second and walked out the door.
That couldn’t be it?
“Wait!” Winter shouted, needing to tell him how much he meant to her.
He didn’t.
She stumbled after him, longing for one last kiss. “Don’t go, West. Not yet.”
Everett stopped her as the door swung shut. “He’ll be okay.”
“You can’t promise me that!”
He snarled at her. “He has to be!” The declaration was raw and unfiltered—louder than hers. The pain behind his teal eyes was vivid. Everett was right: he had to be okay. So many werewolves were counting on him to live. And if West died, Everett died too.
She dropped her head against his wool cloak. “Don’t leave me.”
He wrapped strong arms around her, holding her close. “Lucky for you, I’ve been ordered not to let you out of my sight tonight.”
Winter didn’t need to look to know he was smirking. It was the same way he probably felt her scowling.
“And to not let you use your wand,” he added.
Fucker.
West had already grumbled about her witch-stick before ordering her out of his room earlier, saying it would humiliate him if she were to intervene.
“They don’t even know what a wand is,” she reminded Everett.
He let out an indulgent laugh. “With the way you’ve been waving it around, most of them have a pretty good idea.”
She squeezed him tighter. “Just shut up.” His warmth was what she needed right now, nothing more. She was deep inside a cedarwood forest when the smell of human drifted by.
Why would there be a mortal here on battle night?
If the doctor responsible for helping Fang had come to watch their science project in action, Winter would break their neck as many times as it took to make herself feel better.
“Let’s go,” she said, pulling away. “I need a good seat.”
“There are no seats. Unless you want to sit on my—”
She slapped his chest. “Stop it.”