Pack and Coven (13 page)

“No,” she said. The man was as changeable as…as a shifter.

“Too bad. That would be kind of hot.” He released her and ran his hands through his hair, giving his scalp a scratch. “We can't change the past, but we can plan for the future. Are you still against setting out tonight?”

“We're safe here until morning. The coven thinks we're gone, and the wolves can't sense us from outside.” She updated the house protections every morning like clockwork, before coffee. They hid irregularities for twenty-four hours minimum. “After that, I can't cast spells, so it's anyone's guess.”

“With Bianca's lockdown, you're right. There are probably photographs on every shifter's computer between here and Indiana. Not all of them will be as clueless as Roanoke. So after, say, 10:00 a.m.—”

“Seven.” She was an earlier riser than Harry.

“After eight-thirty, if we stay, we're toast. If we run tomorrow, we're toast—but at least we're on the move. This is assuming your magic doesn't come back.”

“We're toast.” Without the coven, there was no way to avoid it, and would they help or erase? She wrapped the bedspread more tightly around her. This was all her fault. She could have saved Harry, but she'd thrown it away to sleep with him.

It was as bad as a horror movie, where anyone foolish enough to have sex got slashed by the killer. She'd be sure not to wander outside in a skimpy nightgown to investigate strange noises.

“There's got to be something we're not considering.” His fingers rat-a-tatted his side of the bedspread. “Is there any way you could convince your coven to hide us?”

She shook her head. “They're going to know I shifted, so even if they hide us from Bianca, they're going to wipe us. I hope they let us stay together. I…have a soft spot for you, Harry.” The coven knew how much June cared for him and teased her frequently—when they weren't suggesting libido-dampener recipes.

He glanced up and smiled. “I have a soft spot for you too.”

Nothing about their current situation should be giving her butterflies, but his statement did. Heavens, she was a silly person.

His gaze dropped to her knees, covered by the bedspread. In a thoughtful voice, he said, “If you don't shift, what happens then?”

“I don't know.” As the minutes ticked by with no sign of her wolf, more and more optimism filtered through her gloom. Surely she'd have transformed by now. Instead, she felt normal—or as normal as anyone did who'd survived a car wreck, feuded with a pack, drained herself of magic and had sex with her best friend in the past several hours.

“If I'm a witch, we return to plan A,” she said uncertainly.

“Which was?”

“Hide here until I'm strong enough to disguise you better.” If she didn't shift, it could fix a lot. She'd have enough magic to protect Harry as long as her friends didn't interfere.

He stretched, his muscles bunching. “I'll agree to stay here because I think your magic's coming back and you need to rest. So 9:00 a.m., sharp, we'll drive the Caddy to Roanoke. If you can disguise me, great. If you can't, I'll drive twice as fast.”

“Roanoke?” His hatred of Gavin had surprised her since she'd never known him to dislike much of anything. And now he wanted to drive straight into Gavin's territory? “That's where the Householders are from.”

“Exactly.” He finished his leisurely stretch, his spine cracking. “They're here, not at home. Their pack is a weak spot in the lockdown. Everyone knows indies aren't safe in Roanoke, so why would we go?”

“The police will pull us over if we speed.”

He scooted closer. “That can be plan B. Get arrested. If the police take us down to the station, the shifters can't touch us.”

June sighed. If only it were that easy. “The coven can.”

“How so?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that we have representatives in law enforcement.”

“Don't be defeatist. All we need is magic and luck. Do you feel lucky?”

“Punk,” she responded automatically.

Harry laughed, his teeth gleaming. He reclined on the bed, fluffing a pillow. “It's settled. Why don't you pack a bag in case we have to move fast? Most women don't like to travel without underpants and shampoo and stuff.”

“Um.” She knew shifters were comfortable with nudity, but parading in front of Harry, starkers, caused her to flash hot and cold simultaneously. So did the image of him settling onto her bed as if he intended to sleep there. “If I could have some privacy?”

“You're kidding, right?” He rolled to his side and gaped at her. “I'm the one who took your clothes off. I know what's under there.”

“I can't help it.” Heat flooded her cheeks. “There's an extra blanket in the hall closet you can use to sleep on the couch.”

“Now I know you're kidding.” He patted the pillow beside him. “Long day today. Long day tomorrow. Quit wasting time.”

Her bed was queen-sized, but she didn't know how restful a companion he'd be. “I don't sleep nude.”

“Then put something on. Christ, woman.” Harry toed off his socks. She had no idea when he'd lost the boots.

Something else occurred to her. “What will happen to my clothes if I shift?”

“You're not going to shift.” He unbuttoned his pants. “But hey, if you're worried, sleep naked.”

Okay, she was no longer convinced she was going to shift. How…liberating. She'd research later. The more timely question was, if she were resistant to the call of the wild, would it be taboo to sleep with a shifter…again?

No. Be sensible.
They needed rest. She, in particular, had magical energy to recoup. “You're not planning on sleeping naked, are you?”

Harry halted with his thumbs in his waistband. “I guess not.”

June inched off the bed, dragging the spread. Harry shook his head and stripped his jeans down his legs. His boxers were plain blue cotton.

“Better set the alarm,” he recommended. “I'm beat.”

She should finish restocking her kit. Toss clothes in a suitcase. Sterilize her worktable. Run the dishwasher—she wouldn't want to leave the house with a dirty kitchen.

She should do anything besides slide between the sheets with him, the memory of what his hands and tongue could do to her far too fresh for comfort.

In the end she put on panties and pajamas, Harry smirking the whole time, and climbed in bed. He rolled over, kissed her and punched his pillow before settling down with a satisfied groan.

“Comfy mattress,” he said. “Thanks for sharing. Your new couch is pretty, but it sucks.”

“You're welcome.” Her couch did kind of suck.

She waited to see if he'd say anything else, but he dropped off to sleep almost immediately, his weight and warmth an unfamiliar but reassuring companion.

Harry jerked awake, listening intently in the darkness. It wasn't daylight. June's even breathing remained undisturbed. What had woken him?

Then he heard it, the scuff of paws in the grass outside. He wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been a shifter.

Harry allowed his wolf to emerge enough to heighten his physical abilities. He padded to the window. The drapes were drawn. No lights on in the house. Carefully, he pushed aside the lace to study the yard.

Nothing. He couldn't see hide or hair of the animals he'd heard.

June still asleep, he slunk through the house, checking locks. He didn't know what June's magical protections muted. Sound? Smell? No reason to take chances. He paused in the kitchen where he'd cracked a window earlier and listened intently.

Scritch. Click. Whuff.
There it was. Front of the house.

If the wolves had found him, there wasn't much he could do besides hope June had another spell up her sleeve.

Or he could dial 9-1-1 and pray the cops got here fast. He grabbed the portable phone and headed for the picture window in the living room. There he concealed himself behind a bookcase. Several large shapes paced around the Caddy under the awning. Tails wagged and noses sniffed. One wolf reared up and gazed into the driver's seat, claws ticking the metal door.

A man in dark clothing emerged from the side of the house. “Man up, you idiot.”

The wolf whined and lowered its head to the ground. It blurred and emerged on the other side as a nude, dark-skinned man Harry recognized from earlier. One of the Roanokers.

“What did you smell, Maurice?” the first man asked. Harry couldn't make out the man's features. They had zero reason to be here. This location had already been checked by Bianca's people.

“He's been in the car, maybe a week ago.” Maurice straightened, but his shoulders remained hunched. “No recent trace.”

“Bianca said Smith hangs out with the old woman who lives here. He left a scent trail from his house to her restaurant a juvie could follow.” The man stepped into the light of the moon.

Gavin.

Hate shivered across Harry's skin like a chill. No time to reexamine his old resentments. His goal was getting himself and June out of here. Why the hell was Gavin looking for him, to help Bianca out? That would mean she was still fixated on him and hadn't held the ceremony yet.

Maurice shook his head. “Dude, nobody's here and now I'm form stuck. How will I get back to the cabin?”

“Nike Express,” Gavin suggested. The two other wolves bumped Gavin's legs. One glanced toward the house. Harry tensed. Four against one wasn't as bad as his odds yesterday, but it was bad enough. Luckily, the wolf didn't seem to sense him.

“This was a waste of time,” Maurice said.

“Bianca thought it would be a waste of our time too.” Gavin didn't seem concerned they might wake the occupants of the house; he and Maurice were speaking at regular volume. “But we know something Bianca doesn't.”

“Maybe.” Maurice glanced at the front porch. June's spells must be working overtime if the wolves thought nobody was here. Harry released a breath. This didn't have to become dangerous as long as Gavin stayed outside. “Are you sure your dad came here?”

“There are his tire tracks, idiot.” Gavin jerked his thumb toward an area in the driveway that was more dirt than gravel. “You're supposed to be the best nose in the pack.”

“There's been a lot of traffic,” Maurice said defensively. “Bianca, shifters, humans, cars. I was trying to isolate Smith and the old man, not the truck.”

Was Gavin here to find out about Harry or Douglas? Harry inched closer to the glass so he'd be able to make out facial expressions.

“If he didn't drop them off here, where did they go?” Gavin ripped the head off one of June's daffodils. “Old bastard never tells me anything.”

While Harry wished Gavin wouldn't vandalize June's plants, that wasn't enough of a reason to call the cops. Millington had a conscientious police force who'd report quickly once Harry dialed, which could turn a neutral situation into a bad one.

“He could have taken a wrong turn. Lots of houses around here.”

“If he recognized Smith and didn't tell us, he could be laying a false trail.” Gavin destroyed another flower, crushing it. “I don't know how they fooled us. If they've got some agreement with Pop, I'll make them tell me. Should have known he wouldn't stick to the plan.”

So Gavin had put two and two together—maybe he'd seen a photo—and realized they'd intercepted Harry Smith in No Business and not a stranded human. Who else knew? Obviously no one had told Bianca or she'd have shown up hours ago.

“That dude did look familiar.” Maurice nudged the flower Gavin had destroyed into the flower bed, hiding it. “The chick had blood on her. She's all over the old man's truck, but there's no marker here.”

“She was a tasty piece of ass.” Gavin chuckled darkly. “When I find her, I'll enjoy convincing her to tell me everything she knows.”

Maurice rubbed his close-cropped hair. “Maybe she doesn't know anything.”

“Who gives a crap? She can shut up and take it. Once I'm alpha here, not even human bitches will tell me no.” Gavin put his hands on his hips, gazing toward the house. “I'm missing something. I can feel it.”

Harry shifted his weight to the balls of his feet. Gavin was interested in the Millington position. It didn't bode well for anyone if he got the job. Why, oh, why had Bianca refused to consider any candidates but Harry? If she'd gone through a normal selection process with interviews and such, this wouldn't be happening.

“You could ask Douglas,” Maurice said. “He's here until tomorrow.”

“He'd never tell me.” Gavin stalked around the Caddy, testing the handles. “Bianca has no idea Pop came with us. She sent us here because she assumed we'd strike out. I bet she knows I wouldn't turn Smith in if I found him.”

Harry rotated the phone in his hand, considering. Could he use the fact Gavin would try to trick Bianca to his advantage?

Maurice crouched between his wolf brothers. “If something happens to Smith, she'll be suspicious. You have to treat him like the others.”

“He pissed me off,” Gavin growled. “We're doing Bianca a favor. She didn't want candidates nosing around, and we made that happen. If some won't leave peacefully, that's not our fault.”

From the sound of it, Gavin and his friends had been encouraging candidates to disappear. Thinning the herd. Were Douglas and the others part of the plot to set Gavin up here? Hopefully they wouldn't succeed. Harry didn't wish Gavin on anyone, not even Bianca.

“This is Bianca's home turf. If she finds out…” The wolves huddled closer to Maurice's nude body, keeping their form stuck compatriot warm in the cool night temperatures.

“If she finds out, it will be too late.” Gavin's sharpened teeth flashed in the moonlight. “One way or another, I'll be a pack alpha before the next moon.”

Harry frowned. It was a toss-up which of them would be a worse alpha in Millington—him or Gavin. If Gavin became alpha, Harry would have to relocate. No way would he live in a territory overseen by that feral piece of shit.

Uprooting himself—he hated the very thought. Would June come with him? It wouldn't be safe for her here anymore, maybe not even as Sandie.

Maurice put his arms around the wolves. “What if something goes wrong and we have to go back to Roanoke?”

“Then I guess I'll feed my parents cyanide and find some dumb recessive bitch to marry,” Gavin snapped. “Where's the faith, man? We mapped this years ago, and finally there's a vacancy. This is our shot.” He felt under the wheel wells of the Caddy, probably for a spare key.

“It's a joke,” he continued, sounding like the teenager Harry had known and not a mature alpha ready for pack responsibility. “I don't know what Bianca's thinking. Everyone knows Harry Smith is a shit choice for a pack wolf. Even Pop said so.”

Since Harry had expended some effort making sure everyone knew it, he was gratified to hear his reputation had spread. Too bad it hadn't gotten him off the hook when it mattered.

“Douglas wants this as much as you do,” Maurice said. “You wouldn't have been able to get so much help with the candidates if he weren't here to anchor us.”

“Yeah, Pop's a saint,” Gavin said. “He agreed because Mother won't let him banish me. That's what he gets for letting a woman order him around.”

Another strike against packs—they tended to be patriarchal. Women weren't without rights, but many packs treated females as lesser. Harry gripped the phone as if he could shoot Gavin with it. His mother had removed him from that poison at the expense of her life, and he was grateful to her every day.

“You're not worried about somebody else finding Smith?” Maurice asked.

“I don't care.” Gavin spat on the ground. “No matter what, I will make sure his loser ass is never a contender for pack alpha again.”

Even on two legs, Gavin's threat raised Harry's hackles. There were a few ways to ensure an alpha never became a pack alpha, but the easiest was to kill him. Gavin's vehemence solidified Harry's determination to avoid a confrontation at all costs—a confrontation he had little chance of escaping with his life.

Maurice cleared his throat. “I don't think he wants to be alpha. You don't have to—”

“If Bianca tries to instate him, I'll challenge before the pack bond ceremony. I'm already pack. He's not. He's a dead man.”

If candidates wished to unseat a new alpha, they had to challenge before the next pack bond ceremony when the new alpha reached full strength. Although tonight there wouldn't be a gap, sometimes it was weeks between instating a new alpha and the next pack bond ceremony, which were two separate rituals. Challenges were primitive, brutal and an embarrassment to shifters everywhere. Kill or be killed, with your reward a lifetime of pack.

It was Harry's worst nightmare, multiplied.

Maurice crossed his arms. The wolves on either side of him hunkered onto their haunches. “You'll have to challenge Bianca too if she doesn't want you.”

“Bitch'll get in line.” Gavin swaggered toward the porch. “She's a woman. What the hell does she know?”

Probably a lot, Harry realized. She had the good sense not to want another Bert, though replacing him with his polar opposite—Harry—seemed extreme.

From the flagstone walkway, Gavin studied the house. “I don't like this. What was Pop doing here? There's no trace of Smith or the blonde.”

Maurice huddled against his companions' bodies. “What does it matter, Gav? There's nobody here.”

“Then there's nobody to stop us from going inside. Maurice, check those planters for a key.” Gavin ascended the stairs. “Let's see if we can figure out what our esteemed leader was doing.”

Shit, Harry and June couldn't be here when Gavin came in. He'd recognized Harry, and things would get ugly. Harry couldn't protect June if he couldn't even protect himself.

Time to do that running thing he was so good at.

He dialed 9-1-1 as he headed for the bedroom. In the quietest voice possible, he told the operator a version of the situation. But when he reached June's bedroom, she wasn't there.

Where did she go? He yanked on jeans and boots. No time for a shirt.

When he concentrated, he could make out the shifters on the front porch discussing how to get into the house without leaving evidence. Veteran burglars, they were not. He wasn't sticking around to find out what window they broke.

Something tinked in the back of the house. Ceramics on glass.

Harry shot down the narrow hallway to June's stillroom. She was there, frantically stuffing packets and bottles into her big purse, her hair in wild ringlets.

“They're coming in. I dialed 9-1-1.” He grabbed her arm above the tan bandage. “Out the back. Move.” If Gavin had half a brain, he'd have lookouts on all sides. Harry was counting on Gavin being as brainless as he was ambitious.

“No.” She shook out of his grasp. “We're not in any danger.”

“Then why are you shoving your pantry into your handbag?”

“I should have done it earlier.” She startled when a loud thump resounded from the front porch. “I hope they don't break anything.”

According to the 9-1-1 operator, the cops were on their way, but June had an excess of confidence in the police if she thought that was the only protection they needed.

“Gavin's not here to play poker, June. Let's go.” Harry would carry her if he had to. She wasn't wearing shoes.

“Seriously, it's okay.” She shoved her hair out of her face. “They think we're human, and the talc spell components are still in our bodies.”

Harry didn't want to scare her, but she had to realize the shifters wouldn't just let them go. “They know I'm Harry Smith. They must have seen a photo since Douglas dropped us off.”

“Then we'll pretend to cooperate with them until the cops get here.” She fastened her purse and secured it around her body like a bandolier. It contrasted with the pink flannel of her PJs. “We have to stay. I can't have the cops tear apart my house looking for me.”

“This is about your place getting wrecked?” June hadn't overheard what he'd overheard. “They're going to do more than hurt us. Gavin wants to kill me and rape you.”

She turned big blue eyes on him, uncertainty growing. “Are you sure?”

“If you thought Bert was bad, it's because you never met Gavin.” Harry cupped her chin. “I can't let that happen to you too.”

“What do you mean by
too?
” When he shook his head, she conceded. “All right.”

“Let's go,” he repeated, two seconds away from tossing her over his shoulder. June didn't keep a spare key anywhere Gavin would find it, so it wouldn't be long before the wolves kicked in a door or window.