Lycan Legacy (A Soulmark Series Book 5), page 17
"About what you said earlier, the information Atticus is bringing Xander? Thanks for sharing that too. I haven't been in the pack long, but I'm not blind. I see what this war—for lack of a better word—has done to the pack. They're really stretched thin here trying to protect the town as a whole, not just the wolves. So, thank you," she rambles on again, a touch of rosy red coming to cross her silky tan skin. "I'm sure the intel will help in some way. Maybe Xander will finally see the light and do things my way after their talk," she jokes.
The hair at the back of my neck comes to stand on end. "And what is 'the light’?"
Callie’s smirk cuts across her face. "Bring the fight to them," she says, leaning in as she delivers her words. She laughs at my small recoil, then pats my arm a bit too roughly as she passes me. "Come on, we should go."
She's out of my reach before I can stop her departure. I follow after her, my dread at the news undeniable. If the packs fights, it’s clear which side my parents will favor... but that's knowledge only I'm privy to.
People are filing through the front door in pairs and threes, squeezing in past each other and passing off their coats. They're all dressed up for the night and wear eager smiles that reach from ear to ear. The coil of dread in my stomach tightens and spirals up to my lungs.
If the packs fight, my intel will do just as my parents wish and bring down the Adolphus pack.
"Hey!" The masculine voice that sounds behind me does not belong to Atticus. It's far too roughened to match Atticus's smooth cadence.
"Hey yourself," Callie responds, treading up the stairway to meet her soulmark, Keenan, halfway.
I can't take my eyes away from them. The way Keenan's large frame stalks down the steps to meet her. How Callie skips two at a time to reach him.
His hands find her hips, and her lips seek his lips for a sweet kiss.
A couple passes by me, moving confidently down the hall. They break my reverie, but my eyes quickly dart back toward—
Atticus.
Callie and Keenan have swiftly moved down the stairs, and in their place stands Atticus. He looks so handsome with his hair smoothed back in tamed waves and the navy button-down shirt he wears fits like a glove. He smiles, and weakly I return it.
There's no time to dwell on what I'll have to do with Callie's information. The night is meant to be a celebration, and the pack will be looking to its leaders to take their cues from tonight. And with the Adolphus pack bonds continuing to encircle me, I can't afford to let on to my discontent.
"Did you have a good talk?" I ask Atticus as he comes up to me. I push my smile to be a little brighter.
"I did," he says. "Do you want to grab a drink?"
I heave a sigh of relief and am already walking past Atticus when I respond. "God, yes."
++
My glass isn't empty the entire night. I'm pulled through groups of people, meeting the full breadth of the pack, all the while with Atticus's guiding hand on my back. I've never seen so many happy people at once, who are genuinely pleased to be in each other’s presence.
Some lycans leave at the hour, only to be replaced by a new set some fifteen minutes later. Patrols don't stop for the holidays apparently.
I get lost in the good tidings swirling around me and thrumming through me like a second heartbeat through the pack bonds. The wolves aren't just pleased to be in each other’s presence. Word of Zoelle's pregnancy has reached their ears, and it causes a far greater celebration among those present.
Atticus tugs me into his side and places a lazy kiss next to my ear before taking in my scent. His smile rises up against the sensitive skin of my temple, and I find myself doing the same. The aroma of his cologne is addictive.
"Are you having a good time?"
I nod and rest my head against his muscular chest, breathing in his scent as well. The wolf inside me revels in a content shiver. Atticus smells of home and pack to my drunken nose, and nothing can be a better distraction than this.
"Yes," I murmur.
The doorbell rings and several heads turn, including mine. It's late, and any lycan arriving at this hour will have surely entered without preamble. A tingle of anticipation darts up my spine.
"Is it the witches?" I ask, turning to meet crystalline blue eyes.
Atticus shrugs and gives my hip a squeeze. "Maybe," he answers and bends down to kiss me.
My heart skips a beat at the sweet pressure, and I lean in with equal measure. A barely there growl of appreciation rumbles from Atticus. His arm drags me up against him, and our kiss becomes far less innocent.
"Ahem!"
I break away, startled to find Quinn standing before us. Her usual cheery disposition is nowhere to be seen. "You have guests. Come to the front door."
Atticus and I spare each other a worrisome glance before he takes my hand in his and leads me to the front door. I suck in a sharp breath upon laying eyes on them. My cousin Lucy and Knox Bernard. Her smile cuts like a knife as she shoves her coat at Ryatt. Two suitcases sit behind them.
"Hello, Winny."
IV
The world had not known magic so dark since the resurrection of the dead… and only the Blanc pack knew the truth behind it.
Across the world, the lycan community howled its outrage and demanded answers from one another. How? Why? Aggression teemed between already squabbling packs, and when no explanation could be provided, they tore at each other's throats.
Such was the pain caused by the hex that brother would fight brother and sister would fight sister in their desperate quest for understanding.
The Blancs stood solemn and resolute throughout the turmoil. They became a pillar of the lycan community, an example of strength and fortitude during the time of crisis. Word spread they planned to seek out the cause of their newfound inabilities.
No matter how far they must travel. No matter how long they must search. They swore it their pack’s goal to do so.
Little did the lycan community know they would be searching in their own backyard.
++
Day in and day out they scoured the forest for Merida.
But the witch became a phantom of the forest. Her scent lingered in places unusual. Her laughter cackled from both near and far. The pack did not relent, but their spirits waned further with their failure.
Their ire turned toward the family in charge.
And in return, the family pressed down their will upon them until they fell to their knees in submission. Edmund Blanc had made known that in order to survive and thrive, meant to obey without question.
The fruitless search continued until the winds of change swept by once more on a balmy spring night breeze.
++
Merida was lost inside of herself. More specifically, she was lost to the Darkness she had invited in.
No longer did she have a grasp on the reality around her. The thoughts and emotions that managed to break through the Darkness left her reeling.
She had done a terrible thing. But what was worse was her enjoyment of the pain she had inflicted upon so many others. Perhaps, she thought, in one of her more lucid moments staggering through the forest, perhaps I deserve this endless torment and wandering.
Merida had been within the pack’s reach upon several occasions, but at the mere inkling of her guilt and willingness to surrender, the Darkness stole her away. They called her a phantom. A ghost. A wicked spirit. Merida agreed on all accounts.
She lost track of time. Until one morning, on the verge of summer’s crowing heat, she strayed too close to the village’s edge and saw what she should not.
A man on bended knee, his hands reverently upon a woman’s belly.
Luc.
Merida shuddered at the sight. This wasn’t supposed to be. Merida had not corrupted her body and soul to see this pack move on so lightly. And they would. She could see it. The Darkness swept across her vision like a cloudy film, distorting the figures before her and bringing about a vision—a vision of Merida weakening and the pack capturing her. How they would torture the curse’s reverse from her mouth and destroy the moonstone that bound them.
Merida’s vision began to clear only to retch at the sight of Luc and his soulmark’s tender embrace. Spiteful and hateful notions trickled into her mind like the murmur of a secret lover only to be disturbed by a cool breeze that swirled unnaturally around her ankles.
“Tread carefully, witch,” a silken voice commanded. “You have offended me once already with your malevolent spirit and magic.”
Merida shuddered anew at the celestial goddess at her side. Whereas the Darkness inside of her stirred to life, tempted by the powerful aura wafting off the goddess.
“Your children should tread carefully,” Merida murmured, her eyes unable to leave the sight of her former lover, not that she could withstand to look at the goddess full-on. Her ethereal light would no doubt blind Merida. “Their very presence offends me.”
The air thinned as Merida took a breath. She wheezed in her efforts to stay standing.
“You’ve become arrogant,” the goddess mused, “among other things. Sometimes I forget how fickle you mortals can be. How easily you are swayed by your emotions. But you have gone much too far, witch.”
The goddess waited for Merida’s reply. Her agate eyes swept the terrain. The goddess stood as tall and as immovable as one of this earth’s mountains. It was rare that the Moon Goddess set foot among her chosen children’s home. Her place was high up in the sky where she could watch and care for them from afar. It was further rare that she interfered in the goings on of her children. But this… this was a heinous crime.
“Or not enough,” the witch said.
Merida’s words came out sluggish. Her head was clouding with menacing shadows, and the lack of air in her lungs brought on a strong feeling of disorientation. But above all else, there was a stabbing pain in her heart as she continued to study the lycan pair.
The Darkness pressed to take control and confront the goddess. Or better yet, taunt the celestial spirit with its knowledge and the far reaches of its own powers. It was not common for a vessel to so willingly take on its festered roots, but this witch had a wealth of untapped potential that made it the perfect host.
“How is it a witch of your talent could succumb to the clutches of such maleficence?” the goddess mused aloud. Her all-seeing eyes passed over the ragged witch, a wrinkle jointing up her nose at the scent she carried. “It rots you from the inside out. You will not survive much longer, nor can you hide from my children forever.”
“Do you think he loves her?” Merida asked. She still grappled for control and the ability to stand—to breathe—and found herself losing the fight on both ends. But this question needed to be answered.
Yes, the Darkness whispered savagely into her mind.
“Of course,” the goddess replied. “They’re incomplete without the other. Did you truly believe your trifling affair could surmount their destiny?”
The last thought Merida had was that she had… and then the Darkness unfurled in her eyes and veins. Pools of obsidian glanced sideways at the goddess before they sharply spun frontwards at the glaring radiance surrounding her being. A sneer lit upon the witch’s face.
“There is still work to be done,” the witch wheezed.
“Is your lust for revenge not satisfied?”
The earth beneath them turned gray. “I am insatiable.”
“You are a plague.”
The witch did not deny it. “Do you intend to interfere with my work?”
The moment stretched long between them, with the goddess closing her eyes in thought. She stayed this way for some time, weighing her decision.
“Mine is not the only agenda to consider,” she said, eyes still closed. Then the goddess drifted out of sight as if she was merely an illusion. The atmosphere regained its volume, and Merida sucked in a deep breath, recovering herself.
There was much work to be done before the next full moon. Merida only hoped the moonstone could withstand another curse.
Prove It
Chapter 10
For the first time in a long while, I don’t know what to do. Staring at Lucy, dressed in killer thigh-high boots and a black, long-sleeve bodycon dress, makes my blood boil. Without thought, I take a step forward, sizing up her attire once more. Her hair is blown out in voluminous curls. Her makeup is worn to entice.
This isn’t some paltry house call. This drop-in has been planned. But for how long has it been planned?
At last my gaze shifts to Knox. The dark-haired man only has eyes for me. I tense under his regard, then feel the comforting weight of Atticus’s hand curling around my hip. Lucy steps forward. Her most winning smile in place.
Think of this as motivation. We'd hate to have to become more creative in our efforts to ensure your promises are kept.
I take in a steadying breath, pasting on my own gracious smile. What have you done, Mother?
“Happy New Year,” Lucy greets as she closes the last few feet between us. Her nails dig into my upper arms as she tugs me gently forward and bequeaths a kiss upon each of my cheeks.
“Happy New Year,” I reply, far less enthusiastically. Knox inches closer, his eyes darting around the room and taking inventory. “And to you, Knox.”
Knox turns his regard to me and tips his chin as he responds. “Happy New Year, Winter.”
“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Ryatt remarks.
I almost startle at the sound of his voice, forgetting his presence almost entirely. Ryatt wears an off-putting grin that is stuck someplace between impish and menacing.
Lucy releases me from her talons and brushes past me effortlessly. With her swinging hips, she gently knocks into me on her way to Atticus. I watch her rest a hand on his chest to lean up and brush her lips across each of his cheeks as well. My wolf snarls at her blatant disregard, but I rein back its golden rage before it can enter my vision.
Atticus colors. To the untrained eye, his flush might come across as his embarrassment, but those with a lycan nose can scent his spike of indignation at the slight to me. He takes a full step back, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he regards the two wolves.
“We’re here to protect Winter,” Knox answers Ryatt.
“What?”
“Excuse me?”
Atticus and I choke out our exclamations in unison, and so it falls to Ryatt to remain the tactful representative.
“Why don’t you show the Blancs upstairs to speak privately about this matter?” Ryatt suggests. “I’ll fetch Xander and let him know you’ve gone up.”
“You’re too kind,” Lucy drawls and confidently walks past Atticus and up the stairs. I gape at her manner, then briefly lock my still stunned eyes onto Atticus. He gives the barest of shrugs and follows after her.
I’m about to do the same when Knox's interest in the party catches my attention. All notions of shock are plowed away as a fierce wave of protective instinct floods through me.
“Upstairs,” I command as I stride over to him. Knox continues to study the party. “Now.”
His lips press minutely together, bringing out the subtle sharpness to his cheekbones and making his hawkish eyes all the more steely. Nevertheless, he accedes to my command and strolls to the bottom of the staircase. Instead of ascending, he stops and turns to face me. I shuffle back a step when he leans forward and holds out an arm to me.
“Shall we?” he asks.
Years of grooming flood through my system, urging me to rest my hand upon the crook of his elbow, but I leave my hand twitching mutinously at my side.
“I’ll bring up the rear,” I decline, my voice steady and tranquil despite the incandescent anger building up inside of me at my parents' duplicity.
Do they not think the threat against June enough motivation for me? Or are Lucy and Knox here to do more than keep me in check?
There’s no denying the friction that rides our group as we climb the stairs and slip away from the party. It builds as the sound of our footsteps outweigh that of the chatter and music below. I wonder who will break the unnerving silence first—Atticus and I with some generic small talk, or Lucy and Knox with some ambiguous comment meant to rile us up.
It happens to be neither.
Footsteps rapidly sound on the staircase behind us, their quick work of the steps amplified in our mute standoff. Xander appears a moment later, striding up to take the lead of our group. His face belays no emotion, but as he passes, I catch the ire in his evergreen eyes.
“Let’s chat, shall we?” Xander says. “There's a spare bedroom down the hall that will do perfectly.”
I spy Lucy’s eye roll and the slight downward tilt of Knox’s lips, but neither breathe a word of protest. Atticus takes the lead to hold open the door for each of us to pass through.
“My brother tells me you came here to protect Winter. I assure you that is unnecessary,” Xander says once the door is shut behind him. “We have the situation under control.”
Lucy snorts. "If you had it under control in the first place, Winter never would have been harmed,” she points out, eyes gliding across the room with keen eyes. “My alphas are not pleased.”
“Winter’s parents and your pack are free to aid us in dissuading the Wselfwulfs from their senseless vendetta. As you can see, their thirst for blood to mend what is only their wounded pride knows no bound.”
Knox gives a short shake of his head. “The Blanc pack must stay uninvolved for the sake of the Celestial Court. We can’t be seen playing favorites with Winter now connected so intimately to your pack.”
“Even when the Wselfwulfs are so clearly in the wrong?” Xander fires back.
Knox smirks. “Are they?”
A snarl comes from Atticus but is cut short abruptly by Xander stepping forward toward the pair of Blanc lycans. Lucy mirrors his movement.
