'Yeah, just wait until they come knocking on
Carl pursed his lips. 'I think we need to have a little talk.'
Oh, great. This was when he would put me in my place. His hand shifted to grip the back of my neck and he pushed me ahead of him, toward the hallway that led to the bedrooms.
Meg stepped in front of him, stopping him. 'Let me talk to her.'
Carl stared at her like she'd turned green. Meg had never had one of these 'little talks' with me. She'd always left it to Carl. Even knowing that our 'talks' often ended up with him screwing me, she left him to it. It was part of being with the pack, of being wolf. Maybe she'd finally had enough.
She glared at me like she wanted to bite a piece out of me. I concentrated on cowering. I didn't want to be an alpha; I didn't want to challenge anybody. I could feel the Wolf shrinking inside me, ready to whine. I never thought I'd prefer getting dressed down by Carl. I leaned back so I was touching his body, sheltered by him.
Then Carl and Meg were the ones trading glares. A good old-fashioned staring contest. What would happen if they got into a knock-down, drag-out fight? That wasn't supposed to happen.
'Not today,' Carl said and marched past her, pulling me along with him. I scrambled to keep up, dizzy with fear and the irony that at the moment I actually felt safer with him.
When we got to the bedroom at the end of the hall, he pulled me inside and closed the door. He trapped me, hands spread on the wall on either side of my head, his usual stance. He glared at me for what seemed like a long time. My heart raced; I kept my gaze lowered, waiting.
Then he went for my neck.
I might have thought he'd turned vampire, if I didn't know better. He nuzzled my hairline, and his mouth opened over my skin, kissing me. I tipped my head back, giving him access. His tongue licked, he caught my ear- lobe in his teeth, released a hot breath against my cheek. He used the full length of his body to press me to the wall. I could feel him, aroused like he'd been let out of a monastery and into cheerleading practice.
Despite my confusion, I melted in his arms. I clung to him, not wanting to lose contact with a single inch of him. There was more than one way to win submission from an underling.
'You're not angry?' I murmured.
'I'm reminding you of your place.'
Carl's toy. I'd almost forgotten. I moaned a little, both turned on and frustrated that he was completely avoiding the issue.
His hands kneaded my back, working through my shirt, then slipping under my shirt and digging into bare skin. I arched my back, leaning into him.
'I can't go back to what I was.' I gripped his hair in my fists, holding his head to me while he traced my throat with his tongue.
'I know,' he said, his voice low. 'You've gotten strong. You could move up.'
Inside, I froze. Carl didn't notice. His hands were working their way to my front, to my breasts. I gasped a breath and tried to think straight. 'Move up?'
'You could challenge Meg. You could take her place.'
Then it was like he was necking and groping someone else. I was still clinging to him, but I gazed over his shoulder and my mind was detached. Suddenly professional.
'You're not getting along with Meg, are you?'
He went still. His hands stopped groping in favor of simple holding, and he pressed his face to my shoulder. He didn't say anything. He just held me.
I smiled a little. It was such a revelation, the idea that Carl was having relationship problems. Idly, I scratched his hair until he let me go.
He moved to the nightstand, opened a drawer, and took out a business-sized envelope. He handed it to me, only then raising his gaze to mine.
Inside, I found photos. Blurry photos taken on a full moon night, people and wolves running together. One of them was me. These were copies of the photos Rick had given me. The ones Arturo had used to hire Cormac.
'You?' My voice was tight with hurt. Whoever had given these photos to Arturo had probably also put up funds to pay Cormac. Whoever had done that wanted me dead, but wanted to keep their hands, and maybe their teeth and claws, spotless. If it had been Carl, it had probably been the money I'd been giving him that had gone to pay Cormac. That was too terrible to think about.
'Meg,' he said. He stood close to me, speaking low, but sex was gone from his manner. 'She said she gave them to Arturo because she was jealous of you.'
'Jealous, of me?' She was Meg. She was beautiful and strong.
'Of the success of the show. The attention. The attention from me.' He looked away at that, probably the most human gesture I'd ever seen Carl make. Like he was admitting that he'd been using pack dynamics as an excuse to sleep around. Like for once he realized how odd it was, this in-between world we inhabited.
'You know what this means?' I said. 'She sold me down the river. She practically gave me to Arturo on a silver platter—'
And it suddenly occurred to me that maybe Carl told me it was Meg so that I'd get angry enough at her to challenge her. That he was manipulating both of us, so he could get her out of the way without getting his own paws dirty. This was assuming I'd actually win if I challenged her. I didn't want to think about that.
But Carl's brown eyes were so hurt, so lost, and I didn't think he could fake that. He'd never been able to disguise his anger or lust. He wasn't good at masking his feelings, or faking them. He was a brute-force kind of guy.
'What did you do when you found out?'
'We had a talk.' That was a euphemism. So, had they had the usual kind of ass-kicking talk, or had they had the kind of talk that Carl and I had been having a minute ago?
'What did she say?'
'She said she was sorry. She'll back off.'
'That's it? Just like that, she'll back off?' I didn't know who to be angry at. Was she really sorry or was Carl making excuses for her? Why didn't he do anything to her for this? 'Maybe I should have a talk with her.'
'Maybe you should,' Carl said. Slowly, he leaned in, his lips brushing my cheek, moving to my mouth.
I turned my face away. I shoved the photos back into the envelope and gave it to him, then left the room before he could throw a tantrum.
For a heartening moment, I thought I was going to reach the front door and escape without anyone stopping me. I touched the doorknob.
Meg put her hand on the door, in front of my face.
I didn't have to look. I felt her glare, the heat radiating off her body. Her breath feathered against my cheek. She knew I knew. Things would never be the same with us.
If I didn't react, she could stand there forever. She wanted me to react. She wanted to scare me. Where was T.J.? I didn't dare turn to look to see if he was still in the living room.
For a split second I thought that maybe T.J. was in on all this as well, though on which side I couldn't say. He wouldn't stand up for me in a fight. Suddenly, the whole world was against me.
Meg spoke, her voice low. 'If he ever has to choose between me and you, don't think for a minute that he'll pick you.' She meant Carl. She could have him.
'He won't fight for you,' she continued. She grimaced, an expression of distaste. 'He's spineless.'
She may have been right. He was still in the bedroom, and if I screamed, I wasn't sure he'd come to help me.
Whispering, I said, 'I don't want to fight you, Meg. I don't want anything.'
'Nothing? Nothing at all?'
That wasn't true. Gritting my teeth, I braced for her to hit me. 'I want to keep the show.'
Her hand moved. I flinched, gasping. But she only touched my chin, then brushed her finger along my jaw before closing her fist and drawing away.
She opened the door for me and let me go.
T.J. was waiting at his bike, fiddling with some arcane bit of engineering.
