To the crowd at large, I shout, “Within this water is our blood. Our promise to protect and defend you and these lands. In return, we require your loyalty and oath to follow me as your Alpha.” My gaze pierces through the crowd, and in that instance, I feel how bone tired I am. I realize that whatever they choose, I’ll always have Callie and the guys. Fuck everyone else. “Refusing our offer? Leave now. Don’t care why.”
Sam chokes as I pretty much continue to wave a middle finger at tradition—refusing to allow those that won’t recognize me as Alpha their opportunity to say why and potentially bring other members of the pack to their line of reasoning. It’s not that I fear what they will say. I really just don’t give a shit.
Outrage pours from the outskirts of the crowd, those that feel the Call gathering to the center, eager to be the next in line to pledge their oath if only to get a taste of Volkov spirit witch blood. I’ll have to ask Callie if there’s anything more about the Call, and what exactly it means to the wolves that feel it, in that diary from the last Volkov high priestess spirit witch she’s reading.
As members of the pack kneel before me, promise their loyalty, and sip from the bowl, some of the outliers stomp off, filled with rage. Some shout and scream their hate, but are met with the warning growls of those that feel the Call and flee before they’re torn apart. Others look dumbfounded, focusing on the fact that my half-brothers, one of which they believe should be the true Alpha, fall in line to drink from the bowl.
I’m not dumb enough to believe the twins won’t try to find some way to undermine me or betray me, but it’s best to hold my enemies close. Though empty, their pledge to me will go a long way in quieting some of the dissent in the pack. I’m also stronger than they care to acknowledge. Assuming, again, that Callie doesn’t murder them for looking at me wrong.
Watching more and more of the pack kneel to me—even the female shifter from earlier comes before me to drink from the bowl—those that didn’t immediately stomp away or were chased away, reluctantly follow the others. Their attachment to home is stronger than their dislike of me, even when a witch comes with the package.
When Bayne and Daveth reach the front, Callie inhales sharply, and my nails scrape against the bowl as Bayne winks at her on his way down to his knees.Just get through the fucking ceremony. I can kill them later if I need to.My wolf is way too happy about the idea, bristling with the need to protect what is ours. Our mate.Mierda, I’m so screwed.
I hustle them along as fast as I can, my gums starting to ache again. Tipping the bowl too far forward, some of the water drips from the rim down the twins’ faces, darkening the asphalt below. My irritation must show, because looking up at me with the same amber eyes we inherited from the bastard that sired us, Bayne smirks, runs his hand along his chin, and licks the blood tinted water from his palm as if each drop is too precious to waste. His expression makes it clear that it’s Callie’s blood he savors, even if it must be tainted with mine. Daveth quickly mimics his brother, but every action is off because the meaning beneath them is lost on him.
With each pledge of loyalty, the power of the Alpha grows within me, and I can sense each of them like tiny glowing lights in my mind’s eye. They burn with varying intensities, fueled by the strength of their vow. It makes me wonder if the Alpha knew all along the moment he no longer controlled me, and he simply enjoyed toying with his power to twist my free will against me. My stomach turns as I remember how I willfully drank water tainted with silver nitrate because he ordered me to, and I’d wanted to hide my secret. Though not brilliant lights, Bayne and Daveth are brighter than expected. Is it the Call or do they really see me as the rightful Alpha?
Once everyone else has made their vows and sipped from the bowl, Sam takes her turn to kneel before me. As my second, her promise is more than simple loyalty or recognition as her Alpha. She pledges her life to mine. To stand in my stead and enforce my will. To lay down her very life for mine without hesitation. For that reason, the naming and vow of the second is always last.
Recognizing what it means that after all of this she is still willing to stand at my side, this time I follow tradition. Placing the bowl back on the hood of my car, I retrieve the knife. The second’s pledge is to not the lands or the pack, but to the Alpha alone.
Sam’s bright blue eyes follow the knife as I press it flat against my palm, ready to cut after her pledge to me, showing no hesitation to accept her as my second.
With her shoulders back and chin jutting forward, in a proud, even tone, she promises, “I offer myself to be your second. Your will is my will. I promise to stand for you. To use everything I have, even my very body, to protect you, until the goddess sees fit to take my last breath. This I vow, my Alpha.”
Next to the shallow cut from earlier, I cut my palm deep, blood immediately dripping between my fingers, and hold my hand out to her. “I accept.”
As I did with Callie, Sam seals her mouth around the cut and drinks in the blood that will bind us together, the torn flesh stinging from the suction. In my mind’s eye she glows the brightest, a shining star in the tapestry that is the pack.
When she finishes, I partially shift to close the wound. Sam stands and dusts off her knees. For better or worse, it’s done. No turning back now, not that I really expected I could. Not when Callie’s life was in jeopardy if I didn’t.
Callie shivers from the cold winds that cut through her red hoodie, dusk having fallen during the ceremony. She has a peculiar look on her face, mostly blank except for her furrowed brow, but she comes easily into my embrace, burrowing into my warmth.
Her scent has always been intoxicating, but now as she fills my lungs, my desire for her zips through my veins, a burning trail of need that leaves me hard and desperate to complete the mating bond.
¡Mierda!¡Mierda!¡Maldición! I’m so fucked.
Blinking rapidly and fighting for control, I rasp, “Start the celebration.”
Chapter 11
Callie
It’s late in the evening, the celebrations lasting for hours, and I’ve spent most of it sitting on Connor’s lap. Technically, it isn’t different than any of the other times I’ve done it, but everything about this night feels different. He’s always been warm, but tonight it feels like he holds a brilliant inferno in his chest that’s so intense, that even though the night is cold with a fall chill, I had to take off my hoodie to keep from sweating to death.
He’s also been very affectionate. Not necessarily doing anything he hasn’t done before—his face always close to the top of my head, breathing in my scent, his hands stroking down my arms, his fingers laced with mine—but the way he’s doing it is different. Slower. More precise in his touches, while his entire body seems to be a kind of protective cage around me. In case anyone gets any funny ideas about getting too close to me. Not like that’s been an issue. While Sam has been running around like a Border Collie tending to its flock, a not so subtle bubble of space around Connor and me has been enforced by the shifters from school.
Can’t challenge the Alpha if they can’t get to him, I suppose.
The thought of anyone attempting to harm Connor causes my hands to tighten, my fingers unintentionally digging into Connor’s forearm. I appear to have developed more of a hair trigger when it comes to Connor’s protection. Might have something to do with the whole me not dealing with what happened the night of the Halloween party.
“¿Qué tienes, mi reina?” Connor whispers in my ear, his breath hot against my skin, while he places the bite of steak back down on the tray of food beside us. He’s also been feeding me by hand, which is sweet, I suppose, but also weird.
I don’t understand exactly what he said, but I gather the general gist and answer, “I’m fine. My mind just wandered.”
Another thing thathaschanged is he’s talking a lot more—for him anyway. The majority of it is in Spanish and I don’t understand, but he always looks a little surprised when I ask him to translate, as if the words fell out without him realizing it. The English translations are his usually choppy, minimalist answers, and I’m pretty sure he’s leaving things out. Guilt and uncertainty seem to radiate from him every time. That’s also new.
With the whole pledge and drinking my blood, I seem to get these empathetic waves. Not exactly feeling what he—or any of the other shifters for that matter—feel, but more like it’s easier to read them. Not just get a sense of who they are as individuals, but subtle hints of how they feel about things at any given moment.
