Page 76 of Nightshade

“Because . . . because I’m afraid of you?” Altair asked, rather sensibly. Who the hell wasn’t afraid of my brother?

Viktor sighed and shook his head. “We can smell them. Emotions. Fear, sure. But that hasn’t been all. You’ve been happy. Sad. Frightened. Overwhelmed. And you . . . ” He made a face and turned away, scowling.

“What my son is very badly trying to say is that at this moment,” Mama interrupted, smiling at both of us, “You smell very much like affection, Altair. Perhaps wolf noses cannot tell the difference between love and other sorts of affection, but we can all smell that you care about Leo. That you worry about him. If you were the unfeeling creature you’re afraid you are, that would not be possible.”

Altair turned his beautiful red-brown eyes to Mama, drinking her in like water in the desert and biting his lower lip. Hope was written on every line of his face, and he blinked like he might cry in a moment.

“Lapushka,” she whispered, coming over next to us to lay a hand on Altair’s cheek. “What my dear awkward sons are trying to say, in their own way, is welcome to the family.”

Altair sucked in a sharp breath, like the words were a blow, or maybe like they were that water he never thought he would taste again. He breathed sharp and quick, once, twice . . .

Before he could say a word, the sound of an engine filled the air, and suddenly dread was the only emotion settling in my stomach. A bang sounded, the front door hitting the side of the house as Tristan came rushing out—a new wolf, not yet used to his strength.

“He’s coming!” he shouted, his eyes round and filled with terror.

Terror that was mirrored, or really, amplified in Altair’s dear eyes.

Because of course this was when Ivan would show up. Altair had just been given something clearly important to him—the absolute knowledge that he wasn’t the monster Ivan had taught him he was—and back into his life came Ivan, to try to hurt him again.

I could have torn the damned vampire limb from limb in that moment, not only for the horrible things he’d done to Altair and my brother in the past, which had certainly been bad enough, but for this. This moment that should have been Altair’s, ruined by the arrival of his worst nightmare, a monster he’d spent years running from.

“You need to take Tristan and get into hiding,” Viktor said, all emotion having left his voice, and I turned to deny him, only to realize he wasn’t talking to me. He was talking to Altair, and his tone and expression were softer than they’d ever been while talking to the man I loved. “You said he can control you, so we can’t let him know you’re here. Or at least you can’t be where he can give you orders. Yes?”

Altair froze, his expression saying he wasn’t sure that was possible, but a moment later, he was rushing across the square to take Tristan by the arm and lead him back into the house, speaking lowly about getting the new wolf into the attic to safety.

And then it was just us, waiting to face the monster that lived in the nightmares of the two strongest men I knew.

CHAPTER 40

Altair

If Tristan had been willing to come here and fight the Wildwood wolves, I thought we ought to throw him at Ivan first. It wasn’t like he wasn’t willing to do violence, and out of every werewolf I’d ever met, I wouldn’t be all that bothered by losing this one.

Losing anyone else? Unthinkable.

But Viktor had said to take him, and I . . . I wasn’t going to let my worst impulses rule the day.

Maybe, if I were being particularly generous, Tristan hadn’t had much choice when he’d attacked us. He’d lost a lot, and he’d been lucky to get away with his life.

I tried to hold onto that generosity as I pushed him through the door after Prudence. She veered off toward the kitchen with the cup of my blood still in her white hand, and he stumbled, clutching his cell phone and breathing hard.

“He’s going to kill us, isn’t he?”

I huffed, pushing him toward the stairs. “If he finds you, maybe. Do you want to find out?”

Tristan made a pitiful little sound, but he allowed me to herd him upstairs. I pulled down the ladder into the area above the second floor and let Tristan climb up first. Once I’d followed him, I pulled up the hatch and shut it behind us.

Simultaneously, I felt silly for hiding in the attic and also like it wasn’t nearly far enough away. I should’ve buried myself in the ground. I didn’t think Ivan would go digging for me any more than the witches had, but it hadn’t occurred to me, because Tristan, and maybe because hiding while the pack was in danger didn’t feel like the right thing to do, even if I knew that I was more of a liability to them out in the open.

Most likely, it wouldn’t have mattered and Ivan would have been able to drag me out of the dirt without crawling into it himself.

I shut us away in the dark, and the starlight from one small window flashed in Tristan’s eyes as he spun to face me. He clenched his jaw and swallowed hard.

“Why are you helping me?”

I scowled. “Helping you?”

“You brought me up here,” he said, crossing his arms. “Presumably because you thought it’d be safe.”