Page 20 of Into the Dawn (The Devil’s Claw #3)

20

VANESSA

T he beating drums vibrate through my chest, making my heart pound faster and harder, and my head spin with the dizzying assault of noise. The sound echoes the pulse of the beast within me, who’s poised and ready to act, just beneath my human skin.

I’ve avoided any kind of gathering here for years, and now, I remember why. These ceremonies always bring out the worst in our kind.

Primitive violence we pretend we've evolved beyond.

My anxiety skyrockets as my father leads me closer to the fire. The cloying smell of wood smoke swirling around us shrouds the compound in hazy mystery. The flickering amber light glows through the cloudy wisps, making it feel like we're staring down the end of the world.

Or at least, that's how it feels to me.

The moon hangs heavy and full above us, its pull making my skin crawl with the need to change, to run, to escape. And to find Ben.

"You're gonna stand right here," my dad says, pointing to a spot in front of the fire, facing out toward the rows of seats. They’re half occupied but filling up fast as more and more clan members arrive in battered pick-ups or on the backs of scrambler bikes. They park haphazardly around the large campfire. Their vehicles are adorned with the clan's symbol: a snarling Lycan’s head surrounded by ancient runes that are supposed to grant protection and strength.

I could do with some of that right about now.

My toe meets something soft, nearly tripping me. When I catch myself, I stare at an old yet familiar patterned blanket that’s been laid on the dry earth before me. Dread crawls up my spine. The worn and filthy mating blanket, woven with symbols of binding and fertility, has been passed down through generations of forced unions.

Does my father really think so little of me?

I don't even want to imagine what purpose it’s supposed to serve in these archaic proceedings.

My father stands at my side, loving being the centre of attention as everyone hangs on his every word. The moonlight catches on the scars that mark his years as leader and the many attempts to overthrow him or resist his rules.

Raising his fingers to his mouth, he lets out a shrill whistle that cuts through the excited chatter of the crowd, silencing the gathering. The sound makes my inner animal whimper, knowing whatever horrible fate he has planned for me is about to start.

The drums stop. A car radio clicks off. All eyes land on me, some glowing amber in the firelight, betraying their beasts' interest in the proceedings. Among our kind, such loss of control would usually be seen as reckless, but there are no humans here.

And tonight, the normal rules don't apply. Tonight is about embracing our savage nature.

I clasp my hands together to keep from fidgeting and to hide just how uncomfortable I am. These people hate me. They probably think I deserve whatever’s about to happen just for wanting to live differently, for daring to suggest that maybe we don't have to live by laws written by cruel men.

But I refuse to give them the satisfaction of seeing my fear.

"Ladies and gentlemen…" my father begins.

The words make me want to roll my eyes. There isn't a lady or gentleman in sight. They know what's about to happen, and they're here with their beers and snacks, ready to enjoy the spectacle.

The scent of alcohol mingles with wood smoke and sweat. It’s a nauseating combination that’s making my enhanced senses reel. It's so messed up. I can't believe I used to consider any of these people my family. No wonder I don't feel like I belong here. Anyone with half a conscience would see how sick and twisted this all is.

"You all know my daughter, Vanessa," my father continues. "And while I'm sure you're all here to see Ben King get his comeuppance…"

A chorus of cheers and shouts erupts, followed by the stomping of boots and loud whistles. The cacophony sends ripples of agitation through the gathering shifters. I can see it in the way some of them twitch and fidget; their beasts are beginning to stir at the display of aggression.

My father raises a hand, his frown impatient, and the crowd quiets. Their submission to his authority is absolute.

"We'll get to that," he says. "But you all know I like to reward my men where I can. So tonight, I've got more than one prize on offer. The winner of the fight will not only get to end the life of one of the arrogant King brothers, one of the men responsible for the death of our dear friend and brother, but they'll also win the hand of my lovely daughter. She's decided it's time to take her place among the clan and start a family."

An eerie silence follows as the crowd processes his words. The air’s grown thick with the mingled scents of interest, doubt, and naked ambition. I can see them working through the reasons why anyone would even want to mate with me as their beasts assess my worth as a potential mate, even while their human sides calculate their political advantages.

They're confused, and I don't blame them. They know full well what getting stuck with me means: a lifetime of misery tied to someone who can't stand to be anywhere near them.

My father sighs, listening to silence and realising he's going to have to spell this out for them. The moonlight glints off his ritual scars as he turns his head to addressing the crowd with the practiced ease of a man who’s used to manipulating others.

"That means…" he says slowly. "That whoever wins my daughter's hand becomes part of my family. And treated accordingly, once they sire the next generation, heirs to my throne."

A low murmur spreads through the group, growing louder as realization dawns on them. The scent of ambition grows instantly stronger, nearly choking me with its intensity.

Now, they understand.

Marrying me means becoming one of my father's right-hand men, a second son, even.

It's a shortcut to power, and a shot at leadership within the clan. And even Jed knows he’s no match for some of these men, and they all know it.

My brother might wear the marks of an alpha's heir, but his position is maintained more through our father's influence than by any natural dominance. The only thing stopping any of them from gutting the little weasel is the threat of reprisal from my father, who, let’s be honest, only protects him because a challenge to Jed is a mark of disrespect to him and his position.

But a second son might be able to fight for the opportunity to take over.

Around here, where resources are scarce and hierarchy is everything, power means survival. A better house, a cushy job, and even protection from my brother's bullying. And all of its being dangled like a prize in front of their noses, for the small price of putting up with me and fighting Ben.

My father's voice rises above the chatter. "If you're interested, step to my left, and get in line. You'll have your chance to speak with Vanessa before the fight begins, to see if she's to your taste. But believe me boys, she's a feisty one. Only the brave need apply."

The men holler and call, their beady eyes raking over me, some now glowing with undisguised hunger. Each lecherous gaze feels like an unwanted touch, making my skin crawl, but I force myself to keep my head high and my expression blank as I store away as much information as I can about who drove which vehicle, who looks the most disgusted by what's going on, and who looks like they might be willing to help in a pinch.

My beast catalogues their scents, marking who’s showing too much interest for our liking.

Most of the women sit huddled together at the back, faces pale, probably remembering when they were subjected to something similar, or at least having the decency to be empathetic for my plight considering the men who've been starved of good role models to emulate.

Puffing out their chests, half a dozen men move to the side, eager to prove their worth. One even leaves his girlfriend's side, much to her disgust.

Most of them don't stand a chance at beating Ben, at least, not one-on-one, and will probably leave the fight with serious injuries. Not that it matters to my father. To him, this is just sport, and another way to reinforce the old ways, reminding everyone of their place in his hierarchy.

There are two or three men, though, who are actual threats, both to Ben, and to me. Their beasts are strong—I can sense it in the way the air changes around them, in the predatory grace of their movements.

The thought of letting any of them touch me, much less anything else, makes my stomach churn. I clench my fists, steadying myself against the wave of dizziness and the buzzing in my ears, as panic fights to take control.

My father leans down, his breath hot against my ear, carrying the metallic tang of alpha dominance.

"Don't be fucking cute, Vanessa. Keep your mouth shut. No smart comments, and this will be over as quickly as possible. You'll only make it worse for yourself by putting up a fight."

With that nugget of fatherly wisdom dispensed, he stands straight, looking smug.

I blink up at him, the man I once called my father, now, nothing more than another patriarchal threat. Because I distanced myself from him over the past years, I didn't realise just how twisted he's become, or how deeply he's embraced the most primitive aspects of our nature…

I do now, but it may be too late.

Hatred simmers in my chest, sharper than I thought possible. Part of me wants to kick him where it hurts, to tell him what a vile excuse for a human being he is. My beast is willing to go down fighting, her rage burning hot enough to override my common sense…

But not yet.

My priority is staying alive until I figure out how to get Ben and John out of here. Whatever my father has planned tonight, it doesn't include my death. I’ll cling to that. I'd rather Ben and John escape and come back for me later, than watch them die here trying to protect me.

As my mind races through my limited options, I feel it—a shift in the air.

A ripple in the energy of the gathering makes every shifter present tense instinctively, including my beast, who’s instantly on high alert as my body tenses.

Ben… He’s here.

My eyes snap to him as he emerges from the darkness near the edge of the circle. Locking onto his glowing amber gaze across the desolate, dusty clearing, my heart skips a beat, and time stands still.

The pull between us, the mate-bond we've both tried so hard to deny, flares to life, despite our attempts to suppress it.

Ben looks mostly unharmed despite his tight jaw and his claws protruding from his fingertips. He looks ready to fight, his beast closer to the surface than I've ever seen it. John’s standing beside him, however; pale, weak, and barely alive as he waivers on his feet. That man is in no condition to run anywhere, much less walk out of here.

We won't be escaping on foot.

Ben's jaw clenches harder when he sees the row of men standing near my father, and a loud growl drowns out the blood-thirsty murmuring of the baying crowd. His control is slipping as the beast within him responds to the threats to his mate.

The crowd shifts uneasily, instinctively drawing back from the display of dominant aggression. Even those who, just moments ago, were eager to claim me seem less certain now, faced with the reality of challenging an apex predator.

His beast is ready to take control. The air grows thick with tension as those nearest to him back away further, recognizing the danger signs of a shifter who won’t be easily overcome.

The full moon bathes the scene in silvery light, and I know with terrible certainty that there’s going to be bloodshed. And soon.

I just hope it’s not ours.