Desert Wolf (22 page)

“Are you seeing my flaws? My weaknesses?” His open curiosity held no malice or recrimination.

“No.”

“You’re sure?” A measure of skepticism was to be expected considering everything she told him.

“I’ve been very careful to not reflect you. Some of your temper leaked when we took the bike ride, and the need to be free flooded from you to me. It mirrored what I felt, so I don’t think it was a true reflection. I know you’re afraid of what I’ll see…whether it’s fear for me seeing it or of you seeing it, I’m not sure.”

The openness in his gaze shuttered, and Cassius frowned. Worry crawled along her spine. Had she pushed it too far? Blowing out a breath, he tapped two fingers on her ankle. The connection grounded her in so many ways, a wonder considering his power and how it seemed to crackle and yet, here in the room, it quieted.

“I don’t fear very much.” He spoke slowly, deliberately choosing every word, so she clamped her jaw shut. The urge to tease him in order to elicit more would be a bad idea. He had to tell her how he told her. “We have something in common, as it turns out. My mother was human.”

Human women couldn’t carry wolf babies to term, not without—her heart wrenched.
Oh, please don’t let him say it…

“The first person I ever killed was my mother. I destroyed her with my birth.” No expression softened the blow. “I didn’t know it for a few years, of course. Not consciously. My father dropped me off with a healer and went on about his business. I spent the first four years of my life with a woman named Roberta Garcia.”

The name sounded familiar.

“Her son is Jose Garcia. He was at the rest stop where you were ambushed. Jose and I were the same age and, until my fourth birthday, I thought we were brothers. That was the day my father sent for me, so Roberta and her family delivered me to Summit. It wasn’t as nice then as it is now. The town was more or less one estate. It belonged to the Alpha and to the Hunters most loyal to him. Everyone else who lived here was a servant, or at least beholden to them for whatever they wanted.”

Not an ounce of emotion interfered as he recited the information, as though they were mere facts.

“My father was the Alpha.”

Bile coated her throat.

“He wasn’t Alpha when I was conceived, just a Hunter, fighting his way up. He thought my mother was pretty and a good lay. As he reminded me often, it was purely an accident that he found out she was pregnant. He was always on the move, and a child was a liability, so he left me behind. The year after the Reaping, once he took the pack as his own, he decided it was a show of status to display the son he’d protected from everyone for four years.”

Based on everything she’d gleaned, it made him either a trophy or a target or both.

“Once he installed me here, I was in the care of another healer. Shaya was only interested in landing my father, and he took advantage of her favors. By the time I was ten, I think she realized he had no intention of mating her. At that point, I didn’t really need a nurse. I went to classes and the Hunters closest to my father trained me, but he never let them fight with me. Only he could do that, and he put me down regularly enough. Broke every bone in my body at least once, because if I couldn’t fight past the pain, I’d never survive.”

Sovvan wanted to throw up all over again. Her interest in food forgotten, she set the plate aside and crawled around to settle next to him. Cassius lifted the tray with one arm and set it on the floor before dragging her across him and letting her rest on his chest. Stroking her hair, he gave her an almost kind look. “Spoiler alert, this story doesn’t have quite the happy ending yours did, but I’m still alive.”

Trying to hold back the inappropriate laughter failed, and she sniffled once. “Okay. I’m trying not to weep for you.”

“Good, because I don’t deserve your tears, Sovvan. My father was a son of a bitch who only understood strength. I’m old enough now to understand he meant as well as he could in training me to fight, to endure anything, because it would make me strong. I think it would physically have killed him to show me even an ounce of affection. I learned very quickly to guard my feelings and keep them that way. Everyone wants something; everyone will take advantage.”

As much as she wanted to dispute the charge, she couldn’t argue with the world he existed in. “Okay.”

“The year I turned sixteen, my father fell in the Reaping.”

“Oh God,” she whispered.

The corner of his lips quirked. “More like hell, but close enough.”

T
he sweetness
of her empathy filled his nostrils. He’d never been one for cloying scents, yet Sovvan’s was neither sickening nor overwhelming. It was almost comforting. “You understand how the Reaping works?”

“You’ve explained it a couple of times, but we didn’t really finish. I know it’s a huge battle, and whoever wins the top spot gets the right to challenge you.”

Yeah, she needed far more information considering where they were going in a couple of days. Tugging the towel from her, he dropped it on the floor then eased her up and edged back until they were both on the pillows. Rolling onto his side, he propped himself on his elbow and grinned. “Thank you, the view is much better for this part of the story.”

Her mouth opened then snapped shut, and her nose wrinkled. Without another word, she pulled the towel from his waist and tossed it over her shoulder. Damn, she really was pretty perfect.

“The Reaping. It’s called every year. The Alpha announces when, but it coincides roughly with the anniversary of when Sutter Butte repelled the Enforcers. The truth is, no one really knows what the date was, so we usually host it sometime in the mid-to-late autumn. It’s been run as early as the first of September and as late as Halloween.” Interest kindled in her gaze, and the sheen of tears in her eyes dried. Grateful for the second, he focused on the first.

“An Alpha has to call the Reaping. If he tries to delay it or end it entirely, he could be labeled a coward, but that’s not the real problem.”

“The real problem is all the wolves waiting for it to happen.” Of course she saw it.

“Exactly. They train for it all year. Some are really turned on by the violence, others are practical and believe in survival, and still more fear it because they aren’t sure they will be capable of surviving it.”

“Does every member of your pack have to run the Reaping?”

“No, but…this is the important piece. Males of a certain age are expected to do so, particularly if they are dominant. Exceptions are made for submissive members. The families or someone will protect them and run the Reaping in their place. Women…” Yeah, she wouldn’t like this part. “Women are considered excused if they have a lover, a mate, or a family member—father or brother—who will also stand in their stead. Women, after all, produce children, and our she-wolves shouldn’t have to face fierce battle.”

He’d told her this before, but her bland expression didn’t betray a liking for the sentiment.

“That’s not to say some women don’t run the Reaping. Claire…you met her earlier, too. She did. She ran it every year for nearly ten years.”

His little Omega’s eyes rounded in shock. “She’s a Willow Bend wolf.”

“Yes, now she is. At the time, she was mine. Long story short, she was one of Justin’s recruits.” He’d mentioned the rat bastard earlier, but they’d had a lot going on. “Justin recruited wolves from all over the country—Lone Wolves, pack wolves—sold them a bill of goods and brought them in. Over the years, it was one or two here or there. Nothing big. He used them as ringers in the Reaping. He could run them, use their strength, and sometimes they did really well and took out opposition for him both within and without.”

“I—I can’t really imagine that.”

“Good.” He didn’t want her to understand the level of depravity and cold-blooded manipulation required to earn the trust of the young and naïve then to betray them so brutally. “Claire was an exceptional case. As a newcomer to the pack, I made it clear to her that she did
not
have to fight. She would have to find someone to stand for her or find a mate. Either would have taken care of it, but she refused to be coddled or protected, and the first man who tried to force his attentions on her, she castrated.” Pride unfurled in his chest. “I have no tolerance for bullies, and the Hunter who went after her was a dumbass who should have accepted her no for an answer. If she hadn’t killed him, I would have. After that, she made her own way. She came to Summit for training from time to time. Justin was supposed to look after her otherwise, and at her first Reaping, she did really well.”

“If she had to fight to the death, how many wolves did she kill to survive every time?” A fair question.

Keeping his mind on business, he clasped her hip. The warmth of her skin beneath his palm soothed him. She was so soft everywhere. Her musculature served as a testament to her fitness, but she was nowhere near as rock tough as someone who fought daily. The perfect combination of feminine and force.

“The mistake many believe is that every fight in the Reaping is to the death. It can be to first blood. It can be to unconsciousness. It can be until the other wolf yields.” He gave her a moment to absorb the knowledge. “In the initial rungs, it’s a lottery. You have no idea who you will fight. Names are drawn. Now, if you have rank, you can skip those fights. Some will. If they elect not to fight in the first round—let’s say you were fighting and you were in the ten wolves of the pack and the lottery drew some eighteen–year-old kid. You could walk to the board and draw strike through the challenger’s name.”

“And that’s it? The kid walks away?”

“Yes and no. That kid will now be partnered with the senior wolf, provided they survive the Reaping, for a year of training. They gain a protector.”

“But what if the senior wolf doesn’t do that? What if I choose to take the fight?”

Stroking her hip, he considered the best way to answer her. Truthfully, bluntness prepared her better than a soft sell, and he really didn’t do diplomatic half-speech well. “They could kill the challenger, beat him, break bones—teach him a lesson. Pretty much anything they want. Of course, occasionally it’s a risk for the senior wolf.”

Frowning, she shook her head. “How the hell could it be dangerous for a wolf more experienced and trained in combat to go against a novice?”

“Cause not every eighteen year old is a novice.” He hadn’t been. “Accepting that fight means the senior wolf has two choices if they run into a real challenge—kill or yield. Since yielding drops them to the rank of nothing, most won’t do it.”

Chewing the side of a nail, she considered him. “That’s…so wrong. I’m sorry, I can’t wrap my mind around the idea of a battle where you intentionally try to harm the young. How does it teach anyone anything?”

“Life isn’t always kind, and when you fight, you fight to win so you can survive and take what you learn into a new day.”

Sovvan shook her head. “Cassius, how many kids have died that way?”

“Too many.” Far too many. “I want to say the majority of senior wolves will deny those kids that first fight. They’ll take them in and train them. Some do. A lot don’t. In other cases, it’s teenager against teenager. They fight to first blood or first broken bone and one will yield. Sometimes it breaks their spirits. Other times it encourages them to fight harder, and they come back stronger the following year.”

He wasn’t defending the practice. It was one he wanted to end entirely, but it existed for a reason. It formed the backbone of Sutter Butte’s culture. He suspected a great many would embrace the fall of the Reaping. Others would fight to keep it.

“I intend for this to be the last year of the Reaping.”

Her swiftly indrawn breath seeded him with regret. Growling the words hadn’t made them any easier to hear. “So, that’s why you need me here?”

“It’s why I asked for you, yes.” Suddenly, he reconsidered his plan. Even if he could ask her for what he needed, could he really go through with it? Could he send her…? “We don’t have to talk about that this evening.” The day had run away from them, bleeding into night. Exhaustion wore at him, a tiredness which crept into his bones. Sleeping with her at the lake had been the best rest he’d had in months.

“Tell me.”

A chill blew through his soul.

“Whatever it is, I need to know. It’s why you asked for me. It’s why they ambushed us at the rest stop. It’s why they burned the town and hurt Faust. Someone out there seems to know what you want me to do. I think it’s time you told me.”

“I want you to run the Reaping.” Time to show her his cards. Over the years, he’d been labeled a heartless bastard. Perhaps she needed to understand why that was true. “I want you to force every wolf you face to face themselves. I want you to use who and what you are to gut every opponent who would be willing to take on an Omega in combat.”

D
awn turned
the Eastern sky pink when his eyes snapped open. In a split-second, he catalogued his surroundings. He was in his bedroom, Sovvan slept next to him, still facing away. Honesty hadn’t earned him any extra points for affection, yet she hadn’t abandoned him, either. The slow, steady rate of her deep breathing suggested whatever woke him hadn’t disturbed her.

Drawing the blanket over her, he eased out of the bed. His suite was silent save for the faint whir of his computer in the office. The discards from their dinner still sat on a tray on the floor. His house phone was silent.

Moving to the window, he scanned the courtyard. The main gate was closed, but one of Trask’s wolves leaned against the inside wall, tucked just out of sight. Another was likely outside in the city. They were keeping watch over the compound.

The guesthouse was dark. They might be awake inside, but they didn’t appear to be moving around. Still not what woke him. He detected no movement downstairs, though Maria usually rose between six and seven every morning. She enjoyed her coffee and a good book on the patio while the sun rose before she began her chores for the day.

She hadn’t changed much over the years, though it used to be orange juice or coke, if she could talk him into it, when she was younger. Had Maddy woken without her?

A faint hum reached his ears and he pivoted, tracking the sound into the bathroom.

It came from within Sovvan’s discarded clothing. He rifled around until he located her cell phone. Serafina’s name flashed on the screen along with the notice of fourteen missed calls.

Son of a bitch.

Silencing the phone only delayed the inevitable. The next few days were critical to his success. Yet even as he detailed the plan for Sovvan, he found himself recalculating it over and over again.

Waking her to a call from her Alpha put her in an untenable position. Though she had given him her trust, she had to be second-guessing it and five—barely six—days of acquaintance with only forty-eight hours of intimacy hardly trumped decades of friendship and loyalty.

It’s not my decision.

The phone silenced on its own. Then it began buzzing again.

Fuck.

Sovvan was in his bed; she’d given him her trust. Even after discussing the Reaping, she’d not withdrawn from him—not fully. What he asked her for pushed the bounds of common decency much less a nascent relationship, yet he couldn’t lie to her. If she could do what he asked…they could end the Reaping forever.

Hitting answer on her phone, he put it to his ear. “She’s asleep, Sera.”

“Why do you have her phone?” The cool tone was a lie. Sera rarely
lost
her temper. No, when she was angry, she just went for the jugular. Or the chest, as it were—he fingered the long scar bisecting his chest. It had never vanished, though he’d survived what should arguably have ended with his evisceration. A testament to his strength? Her mercy?

Maybe both.

“Because she’s asleep, and I didn’t want it to wake her.” Not a lie. A hush of movement in the background of the call told him someone else was in the room with her. Hazarding a guess, he said, “Good morning, Lincoln.”

A pause, then Serafina’s mate chuckled. “Cassius. Ty told me you have some problems.”

That explained their call. “Nothing to concern yourselves with. It’s an internal matter.” He reinforced the last two words. Sera should damn well know better.

“It is internal, and I would absolutely respect your sovereignty, except my wolves are involved, and I’m not informed.” The Delta Crescent Alpha was truly pissed off. She was using her formal tone.

“Faust will live. Between the healer and Sovvan, he is in a resting sleep in his wolf form. I didn’t think it worth forcing him to shift again to call.”

“Cassius, don’t play games with me. He was attacked and poisoned while you were off with Sovvan.”

He owned Claire for coming to help him, but Ty really could have saved filling his brother in while they were there. Of course Linc would tell his mate.

“Well, sweetheart, if you have the details, why are you bothering her? She had a long day, and she’s tired.”

“Put my wolf on the phone, or I will be on the next plane to Arizona with enough hurt to give you a very bad year.”

“Of course, dear. Don’t get your panties in a bunch…unless your mate prefers it that way. I would never stand between an Alpha and their wolf. You should have just asked.” Hitting mute, he took a deep breath and calmed his pulse. Sera had a right to worry about Sovvan. Her protectiveness was commendable. Allowing Sovvan to come to him had been a favor. If he could accidentally crush the phone with the idea she’d just served up a bluff, he would.

One thing he knew about Serafina Andre—she didn’t bluff. Crossing the room, he sat on the edge of the bed nearest his little Omega. With a gentle hand, he caressed the hair away from her face. At the third brush, she opened her eyes and stared at him blankly for a moment.

Reality sank in slowly, then for the space of four heartbeats a soft smile illuminated her drowsy face. “It’s early…”

“I know. I would not have woken you, but Serafina is on the phone. She needs to hear your voice.” Never had he hated giving news so much. The sweet smile vanished to be replaced by a grim awareness.

“Crap.”

His thoughts exactly, but he didn’t share them. “It’ll be all right. The phone is muted. Her mate is with her. She’s very worried about you and about Faust. Worry makes her angry, which means she’ll snarl, and then she’ll order you home. Let her vent. Assure her—well, you tell her what you want. I won’t restrict your words, and I won’t ask you to lie.”

Sovvan ran her hand over her face then motioned for the phone. Hitting the mute button off she said, “Sera, I’ll call you back in five minutes. I need to pee.” Then she hung up without waiting.