Part 2

 

Chapter One

Regan

 

The sound of voices was a quiet hum of tension in the evening air. Between the string quartet onstage and where I stood on the hill above, I couldn’t make out any conversations. The party was in full swing—if you could call it that. It looked more like a middle school dance than an engagement party. Wolves—my pack—on one side of the yard grouped together as if strategizing their next football play. On the other side of a clear divide of empty space; huddles of vampires did the same. The fact that everyone was dressed to the nines actually made the scene look even stranger. Civilized disdain rather than outright carnage. I preferred the latter but as next in line for alpha, I was expected to behave.

On the far side of the yard, my dad stood beside Mr. and Mrs. Rossi, the vampire king and queen. If you couldn’t peg them for royalty by the rich fabrics and upturned noses, you could tell by their entourage. Their attendants and a full array of bodyguards flanked them, every one looking somehow both bored and menacing all at once. My dad ignored them all in favor of his guests of honor. Mr. and Mrs. Rossi nodded stiffly at whatever Dad was saying to them, but all three of them wore frowns—as if simply standing in each other’s presence physically pained them.

At least for my dad, it probably did. Even from here, my inner wolf whined and strained, wanting desperately to be let loose. To shift and wreak havoc on the blood suckers that had invaded its turf. My wolf didn’t care the pale faces been invited here tonight to our werewolf-run town of Paradise. It wanted to spill their blood—an instinct every werewolf was born with.

I planted my feet, determined to stay up here—and on two legs rather than four. After another minute of crowd-watching, I shifted my weight. The heels I’d donned for this occasion weren’t exactly broken in. I wore dress clothes maybe twice a year. Christmas and, if we were lucky, a formal for our “school,” which felt funny to say since I’d been homeschooled for the last three years.

The pack teens were all homeschooled now, anyone older then fourteen. Our teacher, my father, wasn’t interested in extracurriculars unless they involved hunting or patrolling, but last year Bevin had talked him into letting us have a sort of prom. Even then, I was pretty sure I’d worn flats.

The wind gusted and my dress slapped at my ankles, the fabric rising higher and higher until I had to gather it in my fist to remain modest. I hesitated a moment longer, but after another gust pulled strands of my hair across my eyes, I sighed and turned to go. With small, careful steps, I made my way down the hill toward the crowd.

I couldn’t afford to stay here much longer, anyway. I’d lost Charlie in the sea of faces as night had fallen. I wasn’t worried about the vampires trying something with me. But Charlie was too clueless. An easy target. I hoped Carter was keeping his promise to keep an eye on her. I couldn’t watch all of them at once, and the shadowy darkness didn’t help things. Even the twinkle lights weren’t enough as each one seemed to cast a sharp glare off the pale faces of the vamps we were hosting tonight.

My future family. I shuddered at that.

Dad had maybe officially lost his marbles at the same moment we’d lost my mom. Then again, “lost” was probably the wrong word. A more accurate description was that she’d been found—by someone looking to kill her.

Her death a month ago was like a mile marker in my life, a caution cone set up on the highway to signal road work up ahead. Every day, every decision, every step I took without her felt more hazardous than the last. And now Dad had gone and brought my long-lost sister home, only to reveal that pack law dictated we duel for the position of alpha. Rightfully a female’s role, dutifully mine after an entire childhood of training for it. But now I had to fight a girl I’d just met and win it from her. And when I did—because, let’s face it, Charlie was no match for me—I’d be offered a prize in the form of a husband. A vampire husband.

With a pair of in-laws who, I strongly suspected, had my mother’s blood on their hands.

I melted into the crowd, slipping through cracks and weaving around groups of werewolves holding half-empty wine glasses and glass mugs of whatever my dad had on tap at the mobile bar. Easy enough considering everyone stood stiff and still. No one was dancing.

I wound my way idly toward the buffet table, my eyes peeled for a strolling waiter with an extra glass of wine on his tray, but none were in sight. I shouldn’t drink. I should behave like a responsible alpha, I reminded myself. But standing in my backyard surrounded by my worst enemy could drive a girl to do a lot of things she shouldn’t.

“You all right?” a soft voice startled me and I spun, coming face to face with my friend Lane.

“Fine,” I said, relieved it wasn’t someone who knew me well enough to detect my lie.

Lane hesitated, studying me closely. I tried not to do the same to her. The sight of the scar that ran the length of her cheek was enough to push me over an edge right now. It was a constant reminder of how much I hated the ones who had done that to her. Many of whom were standing among us now. I think she knew that and so she’d been keeping her distance since it had happened a few months back.

“They didn’t bring as many as I thought they would,” Lane said.

“Probably left the rest in the woods to spy,” I said.

Lane muttered an agreement and adjusted her hair where it swept sideways to cover her damaged face. Guilt pricked at me at the idea I’d made her uncomfortable. “How are you doing?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Ronnie brought me an orange juice,” she says. “Want some?” She offered me her covered cup that is clearly not from the beverage table here. I sniffed it and wrinkled my nose at the strong odor of vodka.

“No, thanks,” I said and she brought the straw to her lips again.

“Just … stay alert,” I told her and she yanked the straw free to lean close.

“Are you planning something?” she whispered, but it was far too loud and I wondered how much of the drink she’d already had. Her glassy eyes were a dead giveaway and I realized I wasn’t being nearly watchful enough if I didn’t notice that right off.

“No, of course not,” I hissed back, glancing left and right. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re here to promote good will.”

Lane’s lip curled. “I think a better message could be sent if we promote the biting of limbs and burning of—”

“Lane,” I interrupted sharply, but she didn’t look nearly as remorseful as she should considering how well vampires could hear. “We are here to make friends. Do our duty. Behave,” I finished, opting to keep it simple.

“Aye-aye, captain.” Lane raised her hand in a sloppy salute. “Bevin said whatever you decide, that’s the plan, so if you say to make friends, that’s what I’ll do.” She turned to go, aimed directly for the horde of vampires across the way, but I grabbed her arm and yanked her back.

“Not so fast. Bevin said that, huh?” I grunted with the effort of holding her still and maintaining my balance in these heels.

Lane nodded, leaning heavily into me as I turned her around to face the grass where our pack had congregated.

“Okay then, what I need you to do is make friends with Al. See him sitting there in the back?” I pointed to where he sat on a wooden bench behind the beverage table. His broad shoulders were barely contained by the fabric of his dinner jacket and his expression was one of intense study.

“Al’s not very friendly,” Lane said with a frown.

“Share your drink,” I suggested, knowing Al would take one whiff and turn his energy on containing Lane for the evening. She’d probably get lectured, maybe even disciplined, but I couldn’t watch her and find Charlie. “Can you do this … for me?” I added.

Lane hesitated and then agreed, “All right, for you, Regan, my alpha.”

“I’m not—” I sighed. “Just stay with Al and I’ll find you in a bit, okay?”

“Okay.” Lane hiccupped and I debated confiscating her cup, but in the end I sent her away still holding it—aimed for Al. I knew he would handle her, make sure she didn’t say anything too offensive. And if she did, he would protect her, at least.

When Lane was safely within Al’s orbit, I changed directions and headed for the bar where I’d already spotted Ronnie. He and I needed to have a chat about discretion. And then I’d find Bevin and demand she stop telling our friends to treat me like the alpha. I wasn’t—not yet, anyway—and if Dad saw it, he’d charge them with disloyalty to the pack as a whole.

Ronnie leaned heavily on the bar, locked in conversation with the female bartender. His hands dangled over the far edge of the counter and I knew he was only waiting for his moment to use his sticky fingers to lift the closest bottle. I picked up my pace, mouth pressed tight.

Before I was halfway there, the music abruptly ended and the crowd’s energy shifted to the stage. Someone tapped the microphone, and I paused to look with a growing sense of dread. My suspicions were confirmed the moment I identified the woman on the dais.

Sheridan, my least favorite pack elder and my mother’s best friend—God knows why—stood in front of the lone microphone, a half-filled glass of champagne dangling in her delicate hand. Her painted lips were frozen in a smile that promised niceties up front and evil behind your back. I didn’t trust her as far as I could throw her—but I did know firsthand that she wasn’t digging this engagement business. For that, I cut her some slack. Unless she was about to do what I was dreading and put me on the spot. Then, all bets were off.

She waited until the crowd quieted before speaking. Everyone shuffled closer as she began and I had to move aside or be jostled. I lost sight of Ronnie.

“A toast!” Sheridan cried as she lifted her glass. “Could we get Prince Owen and the sisters up here? Please?”

I didn’t immediately move for the stage. My eyes scanned the crowd, gauging reactions and calculating movement. The pack members closest to where I stood shifted with the same unease that settled upon me. Several of them turned to study me with open uncertainty. Were they thinking what I was thinking? Because no matter what everyone said about peace and good intentions, I didn’t trust the vampires not to make a move on us as soon as both Charlie and I were in one place.

I sighed, wishing Sheridan had mentioned this to me first. It wasn’t like I could openly refuse her now. I craned my neck for Charlie but couldn’t see her from where I stood so I started walking, still searching as I went. I’d hoped to catch her alone first, to apologize. I’d walked us right into a trap earlier when we’d overheard Sheridan talking to Dad about Mom’s killer. And the fact that she’d died from vamp fangs rather than the stabbing story I’d told Charlie.

Now, I’d have to wait to talk to her about my lie until after our moment in the spotlight was over. On stage, Sheridan smiled big. The vampires turned cool, dead gazes on her, slender fingers lifting their glasses. They shifted to me as I passed by and I held my shoulders straight as I went by.

Mr. Rossi caught my eye at the same moment his particular scent invaded my nostrils. Too close. I couldn’t be this close to him. I veered out just as I met his gaze. Was that a shadow crossing the eyes of the vampire king? Could the tension in the shoulders of the queen mean something? Preparing for an attack, maybe, or bracing herself for someone else to do the deed like she’d done with my mother?

I took a wide path around the back of the stage so I could keep watch. If something was about to go down, my priority would be to get Charlie out of the way.

Where was my sister anyway?

Even after I’d climbed the stairs and stood onstage, it took me a moment to find her. She sliced through the clearing, parting the crowd like the ocean. Her blonde hair, piled high and regal on her head, bounced along as she walked. Her dark-purple dress trailed in her wake, and her chin was lifted with strength and defiance. Her motions were so much more graceful than I had noticed earlier. For all that she was when she’d arrived—a girl the pack had grabbed after her senior dance—she looked in this moment like royalty. Like she was meant to be admired. All eyes were on her.

Jealousy reared and I suddenly felt as if I were being relegated back into someone else’s shadow. I shook it away. Beauty didn’t make an alpha.

She scaled the steps on the side of the stage, skirt lifted in one delicate hand. Her other hand was held by a man. No, not a man, I realized when I looked closer. A vamp.

My hackles lifted as his face came into view.

Owen.

The last time I saw him, my pack had been fighting his coven. It was a bloody battle, although I don’t even remember what started it now. Someone crossed the wrong territory line, insults were thrown, claws were unsheathed. Whenever vampires and werewolves started to fight, things were guaranteed to get ugly, fast. It didn’t take long for bodies to hit the ground.

By the time Dad and I arrived to stop it, all that remained was cleanup.

I found myself holding the body of a werewolf—Ray, an idiot who didn’t know that the best way to win a fight against a vampire was to avoid it completely, an idiot who had been far too young to die—trying to bring him back to consciousness so he could transform and heal. My hands were covered in his blood. He never woke up.

My eyes had met Owen’s over Ray’s body, and the vampire had smiled.

Smiled.

That was how I would always think of Prince Owen. It didn’t matter if we were going to get married and lead the vampires and werewolves together. I would remember him smiling at me as I held the body of a boy who never got a chance to live his life—and I would hate him for it.

That cold smile was turned on Charlie now as Owen climbed onto the stage behind her. I couldn’t join them fast enough.

“Thank you so much for having me here,” Owen said, his voice slithering over the speaker system and down my spine. “To bring our families to peace through this treaty is an honor.”

Charlie stared at him, stunned. She probably hadn’t seen a vampire before. I had seen far too many, but I tried to imagine what she must have been thinking—that pallor, those severe features, the dark eyes. He must have looked monstrous to her. And one of us was going to marry him.

A wave of pity swept over me, followed quickly by the wild urge to protect her.

I shoved my sister behind me. Not hard, but she gave a small peep of surprise anyway.

That tiny sound was enough to cut Owen off from another falsely charismatic announcement. His eyes sliced over to me.

“Ah,” he said. Turned away from the microphone, he spoke in a low murmur that only I would hear. “Vuk.” He said my name so familiarly, as if it were a name he had whispered a million times.

I didn’t dignify him with a response.

I looked out over the crowd, scanning the expressions of the faces that stared back at me. Fear, anger, suspicion. Vampires and werewolves alike—no one looked excited to see the mix that stood on stage together. I couldn’t agree more, but at least I could handle it. I could stand up under this kind of pressure. Charlie had no experience with this sort of thing.

“Thank you, thank you!” Sheridan said, giving Owen a toothy grin that wasn’t even a little bit friendly.

The crowd clapped, but it was definitely the sound of strained politeness—on both sides.

Mrs. Rossi appeared at the bottom of the stage. She rolled her eyes at Owen and hissed at him, “It’s over, Owen. You made your speech. Get down here.”

Owen’s smile faltered, only for a second.

“Come on,” his mother prodded. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Owen waved one final time, putting on a neutral expression for the crowd, and then, in a graceful leap, joined his mother on the grass. Her hand lifted and rested on his back, guiding him back to their little corner. I noticed he went instantly stiff at the contact.

Interesting. The vampire prince didn’t get along with his mother? Surprise, surprise. The bloodsuckers couldn’t even manage peace amongst themselves. How could we ever expect to cooperate by forcing a marriage?

Dad was crazy. If he’d been telling the truth about this arrangement being her idea then Mom had been crazy too.

With the toast over and Sheridan going on about thanking people for coming, I recognized my chance for escape. I grabbed Charlie’s hand and pulled her behind me toward the stairs. She seemed distracted, but now wasn’t the time to stop and talk about it. Not with all of these people watching—and waiting for a sign, some display of weakness.

We took the side stairs that led us to the grass beside the stage. The woods encroached not ten feet away and my wolf strained and knocked on its human cage, begging to be freed. To stalk through the cover of darkness and lay into its enemies. I grit my teeth and turned away from the shadowed forest.

Bevin blocked our path at the bottom of the dais.

“Move, Bevin,” I said, waving her off impatiently.

Her emerald eyes flashed in the darkness. I opened my mouth to snap at her again but I realized she wasn’t looking at me. She was staring at Charlie. And her temper was up.

“You’re not doing yourself any favors, you know, getting friendly with the enemy,” she snapped, shoulders squared, spine straightened. If she’d been furred, there was no doubt in my mind that she would have had her hackles up.

Charlie froze and I felt my temper prick. What was Bevin going on about now? This wasn’t the time or place for any of her games. And Charlie didn’t need this ranting on top of what she’d just been through.

“He’s not yours yet. You could at least act like you aren’t already crushing on the enemy,” Bevin said.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I demanded, stepping between them. I caught sight of Carter, Bevin’s brother, my other best friend, standing a few feet away, arms crossed over his tie and jacket. He made no move to intervene but neither did he seem very surprised by Bevin’s outburst.

Before I could ask him to help, Bevin explained, “Your little sidekick was flirting it up with Prince Owen right up until the moment they made their first public appearance. Hand in hand.” Bevin turned her glare back on Charlie, jabbed a finger into Charlie’s shoulder. “You’ve got some nerve, throwing yourself at him like that, in front of all of us.”

“I’m nobody’s sidekick,” Charlie said, chin raised defiantly. My heart broke for her.

“Bev, give us a break. She didn’t throw herself at him,” I said.

“Did you see it?” Bevin shot back. “Didn’t think so.” She glowered at Charlie and raised her two fingers in a V, pointing them at her eyes. “I’m watching. Just remember that.”

“Carter, a little help,” I said, utterly lost. Carter came forward but Bevin waved him off. A second later, she stalked away on her own with Carter trailing.

When they were gone, Charlie’s shoulders drooped.

“Don’t worry about Bevin,” I said, squeezing her hand on impulse. I wasn’t the touchy-feely type, but it was hard seeing my sister under assault. “She’s always had a hot temper. Nobody thinks that you’re flirting with the enemy. I mean, you’ve never even met Owen before.” Charlie didn’t answer. “You okay?”

“Hmm. Yeah. I just...” She rubbed her hands over her face, as if suddenly exhausted. “I think I need some air.”

“Sure, we could—”

“Alone,” she added.

I let her go, watching her retreat into the darkness of the trees.

I thought about going after her but didn’t want to push her. And I was scared she’d start crying. Or worse, she’d want to “talk.” I had a mental image of putting my arms around her, hugging her, giving her advice. It made me feel awkward just thinking about it. I had zero experience with that stuff. Bevin was the closest thing to a girlfriend I had and the only thing she ever asked for advice on was whether coming in from behind was a better attack technique than head-on.

So I let Charlie go and decided to face the problem from the other end.

I whirled and went in search of Owen. It was time we had a conversation.

I found him huddled up with his bodyguards, talking and laughing with a group of vamps that looked his age but could’ve been older than Moses. You couldn’t tell with those guys. It was one of the undead “perks” they had. They were like freaking zombies or something. We lived longer lives than humans, but at least we appeared to age over time.

Ugh, disgusting walking dead...

I didn’t bother waiting for a lull in the conversation. I pushed between them and raised my voice. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

Owen broke off mid-sentence and the conversation died. I returned their red-eyed glares with one of my own.

I was not scared of them. In fact, part of me wished they would start something. Maybe then we could abandon this ridiculous truce idea—not to mention this stupid marriage idea.

Owen didn’t immediately move, so I added, “In private.”

Owen whispered something to the guy on his right—the hulk menace from earlier—and left the group. I led the way to a corner of grass that wasn’t currently occupied by my side or his.

When I turned to face Owen he had his hands folded behind his back and his feet planted. He looked unassuming, accommodating in his evening wear. I knew better.

“What can I do for you, Vuk?” he asked, his voice smooth as a snake’s skin.

“What did you say to my sister?” I demanded, keeping my voice low. I knew how well these blood-suckers could hear and I didn’t want any of them butting in if they felt like I was offending their prince.

His eyes clouded over. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

My fists balled. “Don’t play games with me, Rossi. Everyone saw you talking to her. She’s not equipped to play your games.”

His eyes narrowed. Just enough for me to notice his irritation. “I think that should be for Charlie to decide. She seemed to be handling herself just fine without you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, right. Just stay away from her.”

He took a step forward so we were toe to toe. “Or what?” The words were spoken softly, no more than a breath.

Heat rose up from my gut and the wolf inside me strained against the fabric of my dress—and the confines of my skin. A snarl rose in my throat. “Screw the treaty. If you harm her, I will kill you.”

“Regan? Everything okay here?” Carter’s sharp voice interrupted whatever Owen might’ve been about to say next. Which was probably good because if he gave me one more sarcastic response, the wolf in me might break free and go for his throat. I took a step back and realized I was breathing heavily.

Carter approached warily, his tie and jacket missing. He still looked handsome in his dress slacks and button-down shirt, but unlike earlier when his green eyes had sparkled at the sight of me, now his gaze swept me, searching. For wounds maybe?

“Yeah, we’re fine,” I said.

Bevin appeared behind Carter. “You sure?” she asked.

I looked at Owen. The challenge had gone out of his eyes. He smiled, his neutral expression back in place like a mask. “I was just telling Regan what a nice night it was for an outdoor gathering. I think I’ll get some air.” Owen left, deliberately turning his back on me as he walked away.

My shoulders sagged. Not so much relief as disappointment. I really wanted a fight. Would it be bloody? Yes. But at least it would mean the end of all this tension.

“What was that about?” Carter asked once Owen was out of earshot. Bevin hovered beside him. Her temper had given way to concern, which surprised me. I didn’t see that often on her. On either of them.

I forced a casual shrug, like it was no big deal to confront one of the leaders of our vampire enemies. “I wanted to know why he was messing with Charlie. And I told him to knock it off. Or the treaty might be voided.”

“Be careful how you threaten him. Your dad...” Bevin bit her lip and looked around, like she expected Dad to be lurking and listening.

Carter’s hands balled into fists at his sides. “But you’re okay? He didn’t try anything with you, did he?”

“I wish he would’ve.” I rolled my neck and shoulders to ease some of the tension. “If he messes with Charlie again...”

Bevin bit her lip. I could tell she wanted to start in again.

Carter spoke quickly, obviously trying to avert another argument. “I’ve got your back,” he said to me.

The show of support surprised me. “I thought you didn’t like Charlie. She’s stealing your spot,” I reminded him.

“She’s part of the pack now. I don’t have to like her to protect her from them. And yeah, she’s taking my spot. I get to be pissed about that. Doesn’t mean I want to see anything happen to her. Or you,” he added.

I nodded, ignoring the way he’d said “you” softer than the rest. Carter was being extra weird lately and I did not have the bandwidth for that problem right now. “Thanks,” I told him.

“You guys, we should get back. Your dad is looking over here,” Bevin said.

She pointed across the field to where my dad stood talking to theirs. Charlie was at his side, looking miserable and ready to bolt. His eyes landed on mine and his mouth hardened; a clear message. I needed to get back to mingling—and putting on a good show for our guests.

“Carter, can I count on you to keep an eye on Charlie like you promised?” I asked.

“Yeah, I got it,” he said.

I nodded without looking away from Dad. “I’ll find you later,” I told them and then gritted my teeth and rejoined the crowd.