The Thing About Weres

A paw print, forever inked upon his skin.

“When I found out that the Raha’ell carried my seed, I went down to the birthing stalls to kill her. But I was a day late. The bitch had whelped my by-blow the night before and died early that morning. The baby still lived … She had your eyes, Hell.” A muscle flexed in his cheek. “No one has eyes like yours—so clear.”

His chest lifted as he drew in a long, slow breath.

“Anyhow, you tell her what you want from that.”

My twin pursed his lips as he stared at the shimmering gates to the world he’d so recently left. “Now give me some of your magic, Hell. I’ll bring it closer.”

My hand tightened on the glass bottle.

“Let me,” said Trowbridge, moving to my side.

Hedi, the mouse-hearted.

I clenched my teeth and shook my head. “No.” That was part of the deal—I’d told Trowbridge that if I were the one who passed Lexi the potion, I’d look more badass to the pack. And if my mate smelled my lie, he chose not to call me on it in front of the others.

The thing is, something had birthed inside me as I’d listened to the plans being drawn and redrawn in the Trowbridge master bedroom. As epiphanies go, it was simple—I couldn’t stand the thought of hiding behind people anymore. Which, as personal awakenings go, was stunningly poorly timed. Because, come on. The nastiness unspooling was definitely one instance where it would have been preferable to hide in the shadow of the Alpha of Creemore, mouthing, “It’s his fault.”

Let Trowbridge give him the potion.

But I couldn’t … I just couldn’t. First of all, it wasn’t Trowbridge’s fault. None of it was. And secondly … it felt wrong. Cowardly, somehow. This was my brother. If a proverbial gun was going to be fired, it had to be me pulling the trigger. I don’t know why or how to explain how I became convinced of that.

But I knew it. Soul deep.

It was agony to pull my paw from my jeans pocket. But I found some kernel of strength—for once both my Fae and inner-bitch were leaning on the oars. Then I drew in a long breath and extended my fist toward my brother, fingers still curled around the vial of sun potion.

“Hell?” asked Lexi.

Open your hand. Show him what you have hidden there.

Go on. Do it.

I forced myself to uncurl my fingers to expose the bottle lying on my palm. “You have to drink this, Lexi.”

“That’s unexpected.” He stared at it—one thousand, two thousand, three—his tongue wet his lips—four thousand, five thousand—then he took it from my palm. His smile was as shaky as his fingers as he unscrewed the cap. “But I’ll think better and move faster after a hit, so bottoms up.” My twin took a small sip. This he savored briefly, rolling it in his mouth. Then with a look of utter bliss, he swallowed a measure.

A discreet shudder.

He replaced the cap and began to twist it closed.

That’s when Trowbridge said softly, “No, Shadow. You need to drink all of it.”

“All?” Lexi’s brows pulled together. “That’s too much, Hell. I can’t—”

“It’s the only way,” I told him. “You have to finish the entire bottle, Lexi.”

Some things can’t be swallowed as quickly as sun potion. Things like betrayal. Reversals of fortune. Overdoses. Murder.

Pain swelled in me as I watched him fight against it. But the full realization of my deceit came, anyhow.

It had to. Didn’t it?

His face twisted into something ugly.

“I should have known—you’re not wearing Mum’s amulet. When I saw it around the Son of Lukynae’s throat, I figured he was going to pass it to you at the last minute. But he didn’t want me tearing that thing from your little neck, did he?” His shoulders lifted in a fuck-me huff. “So, what’s the plan, sis?” Venom laced his voice. “Oh, forget it. You’re just his little fuck toy, aren’t you? You don’t the know the plan.” He turned to Trowbridge. “This is how you’re going to appease the Black Mage? You stupid piece of shit—he doesn’t give a damn whether or not I come back dead or alive. Sending my body across won’t stop him from coming here if he wants to.”

“Trust me,” I whispered.

His glance was quick and scathing. “Trust the Son of Lukynae’s whore? I don’t think so. You want me to finish this bottle? Well, then, your mate’s going to have to force it down my throat.”

“No problem,” said Trowbridge.

Faes.

We tend to behave predictably in certain situations. When faced with ruin, my aunt Lou had vindictively chucked Ralph into the pond. When faced with the task of infuriating the Alpha of Creemore, my twin chose the same option.

He twisted for the pond.

Trowbridge lunged—they grappled on the edge. I saw disaster in the making, since Weres can’t swim, so I threw myself into the fray. My hand scrabbled for the bottle. Lexi swung a fist at Trowbridge.

It connected with my arm.

And I screamed in pain.

Lexi froze—both of them did—at the sound of that single, sharp, shrill cry of hurt.

It shouldn’t have burned so much. It was just a glancing blow. But it had landed dead-square on my bandage, and it reopened the pain of the bite like I was back in Threall, on the retreat from evil with a kid hanging off my arm, his incisors chewing through my flesh.

I swear. It so felt like the kid all over again.

And thus, I screamed and immediately felt terrible for doing so.

Hedi, the mouse-hearted. Hedi, the weak.

Trowbridge sank to his knees, the Shadow all forgotten. “Hedi?”

I bit down on my lip, trying to quell its tremor.

“I’m good,” I said huskily.

The bottle of sun potion had been dropped in the scuffle. It had landed, improbably, in a tuft of crabgrass. It hadn’t broken; it hadn’t even fallen over on its side. It stood, looking pristine and poisonous, upright in the weed’s tough blades.

Behold the Stronghold soap opera.

Did I reach for it? Pass it silently back to my brother?

No.

My anger came spewing up. “Why couldn’t you resist it?” I screamed at my brother, frustration frothing up. “You knew it was dangerous and yet you took it anyhow! Why couldn’t you have just held off? Accepted your wolf? You stupid, stupid … stupid man. You turned into a fucking junkie … You’ve ruined everything.”

Yeah. I heard myself somewhere in there.

But my mouth was a runaway horse. It was running on in terror. Bad things were behind it. Safety was just … there. Somewhere up ahead.

No—not here.

Not here, where once the boy of my dreams strummed the guitar.

Not here, where a broken girl sat on her ass in a bed of crabgrass.

Words dried up. And in truth, I don’t exactly know all I said before they dribbled off. But eventually there was silence. Not even a cricket had the balls to chirrup. My chest heaved. I counted to seven. Then I yanked my gaze from that bottle and painfully forced my repentant eyes upward.

Forgive me. That’s what I wanted my eyes to say to Lexi.

I’m sorry, too.

But Lexi wasn’t looking at me—or, for that matter, the sun potion. He was staring at the bandage above my