determination. Fear. Disgust.
And it hit him.
Felt like it literally hit him, like a kick to the solar plexus, nearly knocking the wind out of him.
“You think they’re going to call for an Alpha Mating Rite.”
Her mouth twisted. “I’m sure of it.”
Logan struggled for breath. Fury and fear threatened to rip it away again. Other males would try to hurt her, to touch her. To take her from him. And he would be powerless to stop it.
“You think they won’t recognize us as being mated. Why?” His mind raced. “Because you haven’t marked me? Well, fang up, sweetheart, and let’s get this done.”
“It wouldn’t make any difference. Sure, they’ll point to that, but even if I did mark you, it wouldn’t matter. You’re not a member of the pack, and I’m claiming to be alpha. Only a pack member can mate a female alpha; you know that. It keeps rogues from being able to come in and seize control of a pack too easily. You know, because we females are clearly too weak to hold them off.”
She sneered at that. Logan wanted to howl.
He struggled for control, fought to concentrate on the chill in the air, the rustle of the tree branches, the scent of the lake, the sound of pine needles snapping in the woods. Anything that would take his mind off the killing rage that threatened to consume him.
“And because I’m not a member of the pack, I won’t be allowed to join the challenge for you.”
“Of course not. You know the rules. They’d take you down if you tried. Or if they were afraid they couldn’t, they’d just shoot you and save themselves some trouble.”
Logan cursed. “But I suppose you’re just going to walk into that situation, even knowing what’s going to happen. You’re going to walk into that and just let them have at it.”
“What the hell else am I supposed to do?” she demanded, her calm demeanor cracking around the edges. “What choice do I have?”
“How about you can
“Of course I have. I’m not an idiot. Trust me when I tell you they’re going to kill me. I’ll
The tips of his fingers began to tingle, and Logan had to fight back his need to claw something into shreds. “Are you listening to yourself? Did you hear what I just heard? You are not going to die tonight. I will not allow that to happen.”
“For the Moon’s sake, Logan, you’re the one not listening to me. You. Don’t. Have. A. Choice. This is over. There’s nothing you can do. This is what’s going to happen tonight. The pack will gather, I’ll call the Howl, and one or more of the idiot males in my pack—who, by the way, couldn’t lead a marching band, let alone my pack—will call for an Alpha Mating Rite, and I will kill any one of them who touches me. End of story.”
Logan snarled viciously.
“Hey, maybe neither of us has enough faith, huh? Maybe I’ll win the challenges, and it will be those sick bastards who die, not me.”
He saw the way her lips twisted on that thought, and he knew she realized the truth, just as he did. If there was just one challenger, Honor could defeat him. Maybe even two. But if there were any more than that, or if two or more of them worked together to take her down, thinking they couldn’t fight it out among themselves after she was defeated, Honor was doomed. As fierce as she was, as strong as she was, she was still a female. Nature just hadn’t gifted her with the same musculature. In the end, a male Lupine would always be more powerful.
It took a moment to gain enough control so that he could manage speech. Even so, his jaw was clenched so tight, he couldn’t be sure his lips even moved. Only the breeze blowing in off the lake kept him from spontaneously combusting.
“Why?” he demanded. “Why are you doing this? You have choices, Honor. You can walk away from this. You can leave, and make a life for yourself somewhere else.”
Somewhere like Manhattan, he thought, but he didn’t say it.
She almost smiled at him. “You know that’s not true, and if you don’t, you should. I can’t just walk away. This is my pack. As sick and twisted and screwed up as it’s turning out to be, it’s still my pack. I know I’ve basically just told you that the job you came here to do is irrelevant, but if you’re half as smart as I think you are—as I
Of course he knew that. Hadn’t he thought the very same thing himself? “Someone else could take over. I’d find someone.”
“What? You mean you’d bring in an outsider? No way, and if you tried, I’d go after you myself.” She stopped him when he tried to protest, speaking quietly over the rustling of branches. “No, Logan. I won’t let it happen. I’m sure there are packless alphas out there who would be happy to take over our territory, and I’m sure there may even be some who could do it and even strengthen the pack, but they wouldn’t be White Paw. Would some outsider know that the name White Paw comes from the founder of the pack, Stephen Tate, who settled here in 1687? Sure, he could find that stuff out, but would he bother?
“Would a stranger bother to find out that little Evie Stanton isn’t named after her aunt Eva, like everyone assumes, but after her great-grandfather Evelyn Bright, who moved here from England after World War II because he discovered his mate was an American nurse stationed in Dover? More important than that, would he care?”
Logan opened his mouth to answer, but he never got the chance. The words were ripped right out of his mouth. By the force of the bullet that pierced his chest.
Honor screamed.
She couldn’t help it. It was a stupid, dangerous, girly, childish reaction, but it escaped her throat before she realized what was happening. She saw the hideous bloom of red on her mate’s chest and the sound came out completely against her will. It was instinct.
As was her next action, which was to leap forward and carry both her mate and herself to the ground in case the shooter was still out there. Draping herself across Logan’s body, she turned her head into the breeze and inhaled deeply. She smelled pine and snow, lake water and soil, the smoke of the dying fire inside the shack, but she couldn’t scent any enemies. Neither human nor wolf scents drifted to her on the breeze, but that didn’t mean the trees were shooting at them; it just meant that whoever had pulled the trigger knew enough about his quarry that he’d made very sure to stay downwind where Honor and Logan wouldn’t be able to detect him.
And that pointed to another Lupine.
Of course it did, Honor reasoned. Who else would be shooting at them? She ruled out the idea of a misguided hunter immediately. The pack hadn’t been troubled by those in years. The locals knew enough about the “wildlife sanctuary” on Tate land, and about the Tate family’s rigorous enforcement of the hunting ban on their property, that hunters had given up prowling these woods decades ago. Hunters didn’t wander onto pack lands, but pack members roamed it deliberately.
Besides, it wasn’t like Honor didn’t know that certain members of her pack already had plans to get her out of the way, and she didn’t imagine Logan was much more popular with that contingent. If one of the males killed her and then Logan didn’t support the usurper’s claim to the position, he could bring the force of the Silverback Clan into play. Not even the world’s biggest moron would wish that on himself.
No, the shooter had been pack. Honor was certain of it.
Her gaze scanned the tree line, searching for any sign of movement, but she found nothing. She strained her ears, but heard the same. That was when she realized that the occasional rustle and snap of twigs she had heard during her conversation with Logan hadn’t come from branches moving in the breeze, or moles and other nocturnal critters moving in the forest; it had been the shooter making those small noises. The lack of a suspicious scent had lulled both her and Logan into a false sense of security.
As if responding to her thoughts, Logan groaned beneath her, and Honor cursed. Her mate had been shot,
