Lycan Legacy (A Soulmark Series Book 5), page 40
Gone are her wings from human and supernatural sight.
Gone are her pretty violet eyes.
Even her hair is altered to a platinum blonde instead of its frosty white.
In the end, it doesn’t do much to mask her unearthly beauty, but it makes our journey across the country more manageable.
“We’ll be right behind you,” Luna tells me, her words softly spoken.
Our fingers brush against one another, and nothing more is needed to be said between us. We all know the risks of coming here. The war that will happen if we fail, because the time for negotiation passed the second my parents ordered me to spy on my new pack.
“I thought your parents liked to be alone before full moon runs. Why are there so many people here?” Keenan asks. His face is etched from stone, impassive and severe as he analyzes our predicament.
“People come, but not until much, much, later. They should be alone right now,” I reply, facing front once more to count the cars. My stomach drops as realization hits. “They must be hosting a Fête de la Lune.”
“A what?”
I peer back over my shoulder to Keenan. “A few times out of the year they host a Fête de la Lune. A feast,” I explain due to his furrowed brow, “to honor the moon. The top ten ranking wolves and their plus one’s get to come. Because the bottom three ranked wolves—eight, nine, and ten—fluctuate so much, the feast is a coveted affair.”
“Great, there goes plan A," Atticus murmurs unhappily, just as Jax pipes up from the back as well.
"A feast? Have I dressed appropriately?”
The question draws a snort from me, but it also manages to lessen my stark demeanor. “How we’re dressed is the least of my concerns," I tell Jax over my shoulder.
Jax winks. “Well then, let’s get this party started.”
The clamor of buckles being undone, doors opening, and the rustle of fabric fills the air. All the while, the world shifts into slow motion right before my eyes as my hands struggle with my safety belt. Even the sharp bang of the front and passenger side doors closing can't jar me from the time lapse.
My door opens, as if by its own accord, and the biting wind rips by my face. I suck in a harsh breath, the sting of the wind instantly wetting my eyes as my lashes combat the frigid air.
“Are you okay?” Atticus’s blue eyes are filled with concern and dart to my nerve-struck hands. “Here, let me.”
In seconds I am free, but my release is far from that of pleasure.
“I can’t do this,” I whisper to him. He opens his mouth in rebuttal, but I plow on, gripping onto his forearms as if I’d drown without him. “A week isn’t enough time to prepare for this. I’m not strong enough to face my parents. All my life I’ve learned to survive them, not beat them.”
“Winter.” My name is but a sigh across his lips, and I watch with wide eyes as he gently brushes aside my tenuous hold to cup my cheek. I lean into it, unabashedly seeking the solace in his touch. “You’re not doing this alone. I know you don’t think you’re strong enough, but you are. Draw on the pack for strength if you feel you need it. Draw on me. We can’t lose if we do this together.”
My bottom lip quivers as I suck in several breaths in quick succession to try and right my nerves.
“I’m scared.”
“Me too,” he whispers back in assurance. Atticus leans his face in closer to mine, so our eyes are level. Blue to gray, a perfect complementary match. “But I trust in Keenan’s strength, in Luna’s heart, in Jax’s magic, and in your will, Winter. Your will is stronger than theirs. All your life they’ve pushed you down to train you not to get back up again because you are strong. Because your strength is a threat to their power.”
“Atticus—”
My weak reply is met with a firm shake of his head. His chestnut curls wave with the motion; the color is darker in the fading sunlight.
“No going back,” he says firmly. “Only forward.”
I join the small huddle in front of the car, the cold air waking my dulled senses. Atticus rounds up to my side, closing in the circle and staring at us all gravely.
“Keenan, I want you on Luna tonight. You’ve got the list of elements for the curses that the witches were able to discern from their spell earlier this week." Kennan nods his affirmation. "I’ll be at Winter’s side, and we’ll take the lead with her parents. And Jax—” The sorcerer preens at the mention of his name, standing up straight with his large staff at his side. “—don’t fuck this up.”
Rather than deflate, Jax flashes a dangerous grin. “Ready when you are, boss.”
The walk to the house is just as nerve-wracking as I expect it to be, maybe even more so. But I try my hardest to keep my nerves under wraps knowing how it may negatively affect tonight's outcome. I need to be strong, and if that means leaning on the pack and Atticus for support, I will.
After all, I have promises to keep.
The wolf, silent in my head for so long, rumbles its agreement. It knows far better than I as to how to draw upon the strength of the pack and begins to do so. As it does, the last remaining ties between myself and the Blanc pack—those between my mother and I–sever.
Only adrenaline courses through me now.
Tonight someone will die by my hand… and if my parents aren’t careful, it might be one of them.
The Golden Birch
Chapter 23
We don’t knock before entering.
Not with Jax in our group. He strides ahead of the pack, tossing his patented roughish smirk our way before jogging forward with wicked intent.
Jax pitches his body forward, the short tails of his pea coat flapping with unnatural energy, and then he is throwing his body round in a backspin. His staff arcs widely with the whirling motion. When he lands, the earth gives a subtle shake. His hand presses against the ground and his staff is thrust upward behind him.
The door slams open.
“We were going for the element of surprise,” Atticus snarls, jogging to catch up to Jax, along with the rest of us.
“Surprise.” Jax chuckles darkly as we sweep past him and inside. The sound of my parents and their guests in an uproar reaches our keen ears.
The house, usually kept sparkling clean and free of any sort of unnecessary decoration, is bathed in festive decor for the Fête de la Lune. Twinkling lights and garland wrap around the winding grand staircase off to the left. An assortment of miniature cedar pine trees are spaced out along the perimeter of the large circular foyer and alternating silver and gold ornaments.
I breathe in the scent of fresh pine and am surprised at the touch of nostalgia I feel.
It lasts less than a moment because the stabbing click and clack of stiletto heels are storming our way. The door shuts behind us with hardly a whisper of sound. A sudden feeling of nausea comes and goes with a haggard breath past my lips.
“What in heaven’s name are you doing here?” my mother seethes as she enters the foyer and sees our lot. Her eyes slip to brilliant gold as she plants herself before me. “Where is your cousin? Explain yourself.”
I ignore her demand, cocking my head to listen for any who might dare interlope… such as my father.
He’s probably reassuring their esteemed guests there’s nothing to worry about. How wrong he is, I muse.
“Who are these ruffians you’ve brought into my home?”
“Unfortunately, Lucy had to stay behind. As for these ruffians, they’re my pack,” I reply softly, at last dragging my regard back to my mother.
She looks as regal as ever, her deep purple dress cut modestly while her hair is brushed back into some updo.
“Why are you here, Winter?” she repeats, mimicking the soft accent of my voice. But where mine is laden with nonchalance, Mother’s holds a menace only she can master.
“You were right,” I say, enjoying the flutter of confusion that combs over her face. “Before the wedding, you told me you and Father had doubts about me. About my loyalties to the Blanc pack. You were right to have them.”
Her low snarl echoes across the checkered marble floor.
“If it’s any consolation, I had my doubts about you and Father too,” I add and watch her falter.
Mother takes a step toward me. Click. Clack. “What did you just say to me?”
“Granted, mine were proven true long ago. It's only now I've decided to stop pretending like I haven’t known it since the first time you left a bruise on my face. You are unfit to be parents to any child,” I say, my voice barbed and boiling thick with resentment long since pushed down inside of me.
Mother tilts her chin up, her eyes flat in their regard of me. “You were always much too sensitive, Winter. If it weren’t for your father and me, you’d be an omega. Can you imagine the humiliation—the alphas of the pack producing an omega? The pack would have eaten you alive if it wasn’t for our love and dedication to keep you abreast of their treatment with our own.”
Her words jar a manic laugh from deep within my chest. It lasts far longer than appropriate. A hand comes to rest near the base of my neck, and long fingers spider out until a warm palm is flush against me. Atticus's touch brings me back to reality.
“Love?” I snarl. “You wouldn’t know love if it bit you in the ass, Mother.”
“Is this what you came here for, Winter? To have it out with your father and me? To flaunt in my face your defection?” Her accompanying scoff carves itself into a special place in my memory. I will never forget it.
“No doubt you thought your bold plan would earn the respect of your new pack or some other such rot, but you’ve chosen the wrong night to seek your peace, Winter.” Mother lets loose a wicked smile. “You know what we do to those who dare leave our ranks, and I can’t go playing favorites anymore.”
I bristle. “Your threats don’t scare me anymore.”
“Oh?” A well-manicured eyebrow lifts imperiously. “If you care a wit about the wolves behind you, I suggest begging for my forgiveness at your foolish and arrogant display. Perhaps, if I am satisfied with your apology, I’ll allow them to leave.”
My growl ignites her smile even wider, and a dangerous gleam comes to her eyes.
“On the other hand, I wonder what your alpha would do to see your pack’s safe return?” She lets out a gleeful laugh that makes my stomach plummet.
“You won’t hurt them,” I promise darkly, my feet shifting wider apart as my hands curl into tight fits. “You’ve hurt enough people to last a lifetime.”
And then, to the surprise of everyone, including myself, my fist finds its way to the bridge of my mother’s nose.
“You dare—”
My snarl ricochets throughout the entryway. Mother’s eyes, plagued now by a sheen of wetness, widen before rapidly narrowing on me.
“No more,” I fire back, just as my father enters the equation. Perfect.
Adrenaline stays true to course inside my body, keeping me poised to fight. The wolf’s appetite for more retribution against these sadistic wolves heightens the chemical reaction.
“What the hell is going on here?” Father demands as he comes to stand by my mother’s side.
His icy blue eyes glare daggers at our small group, but that’s not what steals my attention. It’s the Blanc pack’s top-ranked wolves treading carefully into the room behind him.
I spot June immediately. She is herded forward by Jeffrey Terreur. Her face is without color, and when our eyes meet, she pales further.
June stumbles at Jeffrey’s pressure, her feet tumbling over themselves in her shock. A breathless gasp is on her lips as she surges forward, only to be caught roughly by the arm by Jeffrey. His brown eyes belay his anger, as does the curl of his upper lip into his graying mustache.
“Behave,” I hear him hiss to a quivering June.
Another snarl rips from my throat. It draws the older man’s eyes to me, but unlike June, I don’t shrink away. My wolf rouses to the challenge and seeps into my vision. Jeffrey lasts only a few precious seconds under my scorching glare. His eyes drop, along with his sneer.
It doesn’t escape my notice how quickly the man yields to my dominance—a man who is ranked highly within the pack to an outsider like me, with no place any longer among them.
And neither does the crowd.
This precious time away from my parents has at last released my wolf from its constraints. It is strong and capable... Atticus is right. They kept me down, and my wolf for fear its strength would one day surpass their own.
Today will be that day.
Atticus’s hand glides down my back in a soothing motion as he slips closer to my side. I shift back into the touch.
“Tell them, Winter,” he urges in my ear.
Like a steel rod, I stand tall, jutting my shoulders back and my chest forward as I face my parents. “Your plan to nullify the fairy didn’t succeed,” I say.
Father’s lips purse together. He sends my mother a sidelong glance and places a hand on her hip as she cups her bleeding nose.
“We don’t know what you’re talking about."
“For the record,” I continue on, despite my father’s glacial words. “I didn’t give Lunaria the tonic. I gave it to Zoelle.”
Mother’s hand drops to her mouth to cover her gasp, while my father’s shock reads in his sharp inhalation. I gift them a smile they taught me years ago, one meant to convey appropriate and civilized ruthlessness. Mother collects herself shortly after her outburst, dabbing at the blood still dripping from her nose. She smacks my father in the chest, gesturing at him with one palm open until he places his handkerchief there.
“You little fool,” she hisses, eyes ablaze with anger at me. “What have you done?”
“I’m doing exactly as you asked, Mother. I’m ending this war.” And I’ll be damned if I fail now.
I step forward, away from the support of Atticus’s touch and into my mother’s personal space. The spirit of my wolf floods through my veins, filling me with its strength. Too long has it been leashed and beaten by my parents' commands… we will no longer cower before them.
“Unless you wish war, you will produce the creator of the tonic.” I sweep my eyes over the crowd behind my parents. Some seem wary of my apparent strength after the scene with Jeffrey. Others, like my aunts, look incensed. “Let me guess, the witch or sorcerer who produced the tonic isn’t here?”
“You know very well we don’t associate with that sort,” my mother insists, sticking to her denial. As expected.
“I know many things, Mother,” I condescend. “But I am not without my leniencies, even for you. My pack mates and I will accept the tonic’s recipe in place of the creator to make things simpler, then be on our way to other pressing matters here.”
Father chortles in response. The sound is weakly echoed by some of the other wolves in the room. Atticus’s responding growl is quick to silence them all.
“This isn’t a matter up for discussion,” I tell them flatly. “Give me the tonic’s ingredient list. Now.”
My head snaps to the side with the force of my mother’s slap. The sound of it resounds throughout the room. The following snarl from Atticus is terrifying and mingles with my own growl of anger. But it's the familiar crackle of energy at my back that makes me stop.
“You made a mistake,” I tell my mother as I straighten and step to the side in front of Atticus. “Unlike your pack, which can barely summon the courage to come to your defense and deny my accusations, mine do not take kindly to harm against their betas.”
Mother squares her shoulders. “Do you honestly believe this ragtag band of wolves can take on the finest of my pack?”
“For clarification purposes, I’m not a wolf,” Jax pipes up affably from behind us.
I spare him a glance and the smallest hint of a grin.
Mother’s nose wrinkle. “You’ve brought a witch to show off their paltry tricks?”
“Sorcerer,” Jax corrects, losing all traces of geniality.
“And a fairy,” I kindly inform my mother, gesturing to Luna whose glamour is beginning to fade as she stares down my mother. “You remember? The fairy you wanted me to deliver that tonic too in the hopes of bringing down the Adolphus pack’s magical border.”
Whispers ignite around the room. June’s lips part in shock as I glance her way. Mother takes a significant step forward, her eyes fixated on Luna.
“You brought me a Christmas gift, after all, Winter,” she retorts, her words clipped and succinct. “At least you’ve done one thing right.”
She makes a move forward, practically lunging toward Luna, but I’ve got a hand curled around her upper arm faster than she, or I, can blink. Mother directs her snarl my way, but that’s not all.
“Let me go,” she orders.
The force of her will is like a battering ram. It barrels into me without remorse, along with the other wolves in the room. The pack behind her bends at my mother's anger. Some of them even drop to their knees. I stand rigid. My grip is unrelenting as a silent battle is waged between us. To cater to her now will leave us at her mercy… and as my mother has proven time and time again, she is without mercy.
“No.”
Strength as I’ve never known rides through my veins, my wolf answering the call to arms I cry for inside. I know my eyes to be a mirror of my mother’s and brilliant gold. Sweat tickles at the back of my neck as I grind my teeth painfully together, pushing, pushing, pushing back at the tremendous force my mother extends to put me in my place—beneath her.
I know you don’t think you’re strong enough, but you are.
Draw on the pack for strength if you feel you need it.
Draw on me. We can’t lose if we do this together
Atticus’s words beat inside my head, drowning out my worries and the dosing pain that comes with pitching my will against my mother's. I repeat them to myself, over and over again until the words slip past my lips in what feels like some kind of incantation.
The world falls away from us, which leaves only one of us to drop away with the rest.
