Page 16

Chapter Fourteen

“Show us what you’re made of, hybrid!”

James is the first to strike, lunging at me with extended claws.

I dart out of the way, diving onto the hard ground.

I hear my bones crack as pain rolls through me.

Fear causes my heart to pound.

But there’s something else behind it.

Excitement?

Exhilaration?

Violence?

I hear James’ feet slide on the dirty cement, claws scraping as he stops his momentum.

I have no choice but to defend myself.

I roar, the sound ripping from deep inside.

The vampire in me tries to calculate, but the wolf rips forward, uncaring of strategy.

I’m forced into a full shift.

Fur sprouts over my body and I feel as if I’m being ripped apart from the inside.

My spine arches with a snap, and I feel my ribs crack.

My vision sharpens.

I hear James’ harsh breath and count his every footfall like thunder in my ears.

My clothing tears and hangs off me in shreds.

James doesn’t let up or give me time to adjust.

He crashes into my side, rolling me onto my back.

The shouts of the crowd rise up.

I feel their frenzy tearing through me.

I defend myself against his attack.

Claws bite into my side and it only inspires me into action.

I act on pure instinct.

James expects brute force.

I give him precision and savagery, claws raking across his chest as we collide again.

There is no balance, only survival.

But even in the chaos, I feel the pull of both beasts inside me.

The wolf howls for dominance, the vampire craves blood, both demand I kill the man who dares attack.

It would be so easy to lose myself, to snap James’ neck and let the bloody taste of victory fill my mouth.

My last thread of humanity anchors me.

I won’t be the mindless monster they fear I am.

The fight continues, a savage dance of claw and fang.

We crash and roll until finally I get lucky and manage to catch his arm.

I use his momentum to throw him across the arena.

James crashes into scaffolding but recovers quickly, snarling in fury.

He wobbles as he tries to return running in a curved line that doesn’t quite reach me.

Sully pushes him down when he comes close to his side.

James falls against the ground with a moan.

Sully roars and several hands dart out to drag James away.

They don’t give me time to regroup or protest.

Rhea’s attack is more patient, more tactical.

She circles around me as if waiting for an opening.

I glance toward Sully, trying to keep him in my eyeline when Rhea darts in with surprising speed.

She rakes her claws across my arm.

Blood wells from the wounds.

The pain is immediate and sends an electric jolt of awareness over my body.

I flinch in surprise, trying to reach after her.

She eludes my claws.

The look in her eyes hits harder than any physical strike.

She wants this battle, thirsts for it.

She wants me broken beneath her.

My blood marks her like a trophy.

I know all of this because I want the same thing from her.

I want to crush her smug face beneath my heel and tear her limbs from her body.

I remember the goblin squish as I defended myself.

I will defend myself again.

I snarl, the sound guttural and low.

If she wants a monster, I’ll give her one.

I didn’t start this fight, but I’ll end it.

The warehouse echoes with growls and the impact of bodies colliding.

Fights are breaking out in the crowd, fueled by our show.

The energy turns feral.

Snarls and yelps echo off the walls.

The pack is unraveling, stirred by our violence, hungry for blood.

It’s not just a fight anymore.

It’s a challenge to every wolf watching.

My presence is waking something dangerous in them.

She darts for me again, weaving close before jumping away.

Several males bark and howl, their taunts toeing the line between challenge and flirtation.

Laughter rumbles beneath the playful sounds.

At least I hope they’re playful.

I’m not given too much time to process as Rhea darts at me a third time.

Rhea’s fight lasts longer.

Unlike James, she doesn’t ram full on, but her cunning makes up for what she lacks in raw power.

She darts and weaves, trying to tire me out.

She closes in again, and this time I don’t wait.

I fake a stumble, drawing her near.

The moment her claws flash, I pivot, slamming my shoulder into her ribs with enough force to lift her off the ground.

We crash into the concrete, teeth snapping.

She slashes my chest.

I drive my fist into her jaw.

We roll.

Snarl.

Tear.

There’s no technique now.

Just instinct.

Just war.

Rhea recovers faster than I’d like.

She kicks out with both legs, catching me in the gut and sending me flying backward.

I hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the air from my lungs.

My vision blurs.

Everything tastes like blood and rage.

I rise to one knee, snarling.

She’s already circling again, blood dripping from her mouth.

“You hit like a human,” she taunts, but I can see that I’m taking my toll on her.

I answer by lunging.

We collide midair.

Claws tear across my back, and I bite into her shoulder, feeling the give of muscle under my fangs.

She screams and draws her claws across my face, scoring my cheek.

Everything around us fades.

There’s no pack.

No audience.

No torches or concrete or Sully shouting at us to end it.

Just her.

Just Me.

And the animal fury that binds us.

I catch her arm, twist, and throw her again.

She slams into a metal wall with a sickening clang and drops.

I fight for breath and will her to stay down, but she’s already scrambling to her feet.

We rush each other one last time.

My claws slice across her side.

Her knee slams into my ribs.

We fall again, tumbling in a tangle of limbs and fur.

I smell her pain.

She tastes my blood.

Neither of us yields.

But then momentum shifts.

I end up on top.

My hand wraps around her throat, claws pressing into the vulnerable skin just beneath her jaw.

She freezes.

I stretch my mouth wide and press my teeth by her throat, ready to bite.

I pause, eager to move my hand and clamp down my teeth.

Rhea goes limp, turning her head away and yielding with a reluctant growl which I take as a wolf’s way to surrender.

Sully gives a short growl.

He stands with his arms crossed watching to see what I’ll do.

I feel the ripple of attention as the crowd realizes what’s happened.

Silence spreads like a crack in the earth.

I don’t know what to do.

Every instinct in me screams to finish her, to rip, to rule, to win .

But the part of me that’s still human refuses.

I force myself to release her.

I step back slowly, watching to see if she does something stupid.

Rhea gasps and rolls away, coughing.

She’s lucky.

Her pride is more wounded than flesh.

It could have been so much more brutal.

I stagger back, panting, blood-slicked and trembling, barely clinging to myself.

I turn slowly, meeting the wide, stunned gazes of the gathered pack.

A hush settles over the arena, thick with tension and anticipation.

Then the crowd begins to stir.

In my heightened state I expect jeers and taunts, but instead it’s the low, pulsing chant building in volume.

“Alpha! Alpha! Alpha…”

I look at Sully who gives nothing away.

They’re not chanting for him.

They’re chanting for me.

My stomach twists.

Across the fighting ring, Sully’s expression hardens.

The half shift has faded from him, and he looks human.

Well, scary human but human.

He steps forward, his movements unhurried but sure.

He doesn’t need to posture.

The crowd senses it too.

The energy shifts again, rising toward a crescendo.

The final challenge isn’t about James.

Or Rhea.

Or bloodlines.

It’s about me and Sully.

He stops a few paces away.

Our eyes lock.

“You should have let them take you down early,” he says quietly, so only I can hear.

“Would you have?” My voice is raw.

There is a deep part of me that’s having fun and wants to keep fighting.

“Now you have to fight me.”

“I told you I didn’t want to be in the contest.”

“You still don’t get it. We weren’t asking. Being a wolf isn’t about you. It’s about the pack. They need you to fight. They need to see it.” He waits a beat.

“And so do you.”

He shifts.

It’s not flashy.

Not showy.

Just raw control and brutal grace.

Sully’s muscles ripple.

His face elongates into a half-wolf, half-warrior.

It’s like watching inevitability take form.

This was the plan all along.

He lured me here to make me fight.

I think of Costin, of tugging at the sire bond to bring him to my rescue.

I resist.

This isn’t a vampire battle, and I’m no longer the damsel in distress.

I shift, too.

Not because I want to, but because the natural response is pulled from me at the threat of danger.

We circle each other, silent and calculating.

Sully is not like the others.

He has control.

There’s no bloodlust.

No chaos.

Just the immense pressure as the crowd holds its breath.

He strikes first with a right hook to my face.

My head snaps to the side in surprise, but I hold my footing.

The bastard actually hit me!

I growl in response and counter.

I punch at his side.

He dodges, barely, and my claws skim his ribs.

His fist clips my jaw, and I bite my tongue.

The blood fills my mouth.

We trade blows.

He’s strength and werewolf tradition.

I’m speed and unpredictability.

(Thank you, Astrid, for all those childhood trainers.

) For a breathless moment, the crowd sees my awesomeness.

I could take him.

He knows it.

I know it.

I could rule the pack.

Alpha Tamara.

How do you like my merely mortal ass now?

I make my choice.

As he charges again, I feint, letting him tackle me to the ground.

I don’t resist as I let him pin me just long enough for them to see.

Then I shove him off and roll away, springing back to my feet with a snarl.

He hesitates.

So do I.

I go still.

A silent moment of understanding passes between us.

He charges.

His howl splits the air, primal and wild, echoing off walls.

I lift my arms to put on a show for the others, but I don’t stop him.

The crowd erupts in a fury of sound.

Sully knocks into me, and we fly several feet into the air before dropping to the ground.

The back of my head strikes concrete, and my vision swims.

Sully raises his head and howls.

“Alpha! Alpha! Alpha…”

The sound of the chants anchors my consciousness and keeps me from going under.

I feel Sully’s weight lift off me.

He rises, his massive form silhouetted against the torchlight.

Blood drips from various wounds.

He raises his head and lets out a victorious howl that shakes the warehouse.

The pack joins him, their voices rising.

The sound washes over me, calling to my wolf blood.

Before I realize what I’m doing, my head is tilted back, a howl tearing from my own throat to join theirs.

The sound startles me back to awareness.

I clamp my mouth shut, embarrassed by the instinctive response.

But no one seems to notice or care.

They’re focused on Sully, who has shifted back to his human form, standing over me.

He reaches out his hand.

I ignore the offer to help and push to my feet.

I stand before them, bleeding, shaking, and proud.

Let them see me.

Let them feel what I am.

Not their Alpha.

Not their monster.

Just me.

Hybrid.

Survivor.

Something new.

One by one, they get on all fours bowing their heads toward Sully.

He doesn’t move except to turn to look at me.

His wounds are already healing, the blood drying on his skin.

Bowing to any man feels wrong, but I move to hands and knees.

I stare at my bloody hands as I acknowledge our pack leader.

Let him take the position.

He can have it.

It seems like an eternity before Sully orders, “Go. Feast!”

I hear the others leaving, but I don’t get up right away.

Sully’s feet come near my head, and I sit back on my legs.

Despite our shared violence, there’s a calm assurance about him that’s undeniable.

“The trials of strength are complete,” he says.

“They need to know their Alpha earned the position, that I’m strong enough to protect them and smart enough to lead them. Especially with the tensions between our kind and the vampires. The mental trials are tomorrow.”

I scowl.

“You’re not going to make me do more tests.”

He laughs and reaches down.

“No. The next trials are only mine. True leadership is more than physical power. It is wisdom, strategy, and foresight. Though if I fail, they’ll come back around to you.”

I let him pull me to my feet.

“Then you better not fail.”

He studies me for a long moment.

“You surprised me tonight.”

“How so?”

“I expected that once you got a taste of the wolf you’d want to hold on to being Alpha.” A faint smile touches his lips.

He begins to walk through the warehouse toward the door.

“Most would, given how intoxicating the power can be. I’m not saying you could have beaten me, but I know you could have put up a harder fight.”

“I’m not interested in power.” I meet the gazes of those we pass, but they don’t try to interrupt us.

“This was never my dream.”

“Then it might be the pack’s loss. The ones who seek power rarely deserve it.”

“And you?” I challenge.

“Do you seek it?”

Sully doesn’t answer immediately.

He holds open the door to let me pass.

When we’re away from the others, he appears resigned.

“I seek what’s best for the pack. If that means taking power, then yes, I’ll take it. But not for its own sake.”

I nod, believing him.

I absently trace the handle of his motorcycle.

Whatever else Sully might be, he’s not driven by ego or ambition alone.

I mean, sure, he has plenty of both, but that’s not all he is.

“You’ll pass tomorrow,” I say.

It’s not a question.

“Probably.” There’s no arrogance in his tone, just certainty.

“You realize since you’ve proven yourself, I’m required to name you as a member of my Chosen Guard. You’re not done with us.”

I arch a brow.

“I’m not looking for a job.”

“You can’t refuse your Alpha.” He grins.

“Think of it as being part of my brain trust.”

I grumble even as I understand the politics at play.

“I meant what I said. I don’t want your job, but I will stand with the pack if needed.”

“I know.” Sully’s expression turns serious.

“That goes both ways. The necromancer’s interest in you concerns us all.”

“Leviathan is my problem,” I say.

“Your problems became pack problems the moment Thane’s blood entered your veins,” Sully continues.

“Besides, I have no love for necromancers. They disturb the natural order.”

I nod.

“Let me handle Leviathan my way. I’ll call on you if I need you.”

“And what way is that?” He raises a skeptical eyebrow.

I bristle at the question.

“I’m still figuring it out.”

“Figure it out quickly. You should be preparing for the transformation, not distracted by everything else.” His tone softens slightly.

He looks toward the broken windows.

“The full moon waits for no one, Tamara. And neither will your enemies.”

Before I can respond, the door opens, and Rhea approaches.

Although her wounds are already healing, she still moves with a slight limp.

She stops a few paces away, her expression guarded.

“The pups want to know if you’re staying for the hunt,” she says to me, though her eyes slide to Sully as if seeking his approval.

I blink in surprise.

“Hunt?”

“It’s tradition after the trials,” Sully explains.

“A way to bond as pack, and to release the tension built up during competition.”

“I wasn’t planning to?—”

“You should come,” Rhea interrupts, surprising me further.

“If you meant what you said about standing with us, even if not leading us.”

I look between them, sensing there’s more to this invitation than simple inclusion.

“What exactly does this hunt involve?”

“Nothing you can’t handle,” Sully says with a hint of challenge in his voice.

“Unless you’re afraid your vampire side won’t let you embrace your wolf nature.”

It’s a transparent attempt to provoke me, but it works, nonetheless.

The wolf in me bristles at the suggestion of cowardice.

“I’m not afraid.”

A smile spreads across Sully’s face.

“Good. Then you’ll join us.”

Part of me wants to refuse on principle, to show I can’t be manipulated so easily.

But the wolf part is curious.

What would it be like to run with a pack, to let that side of myself free?

“What are you hunting?” I ask, stalling for time to think.

“Nothing sentient,” Sully assures me.

“We’re not monsters. The thrill is in the chase, not the kill.”

I glance at his motorcycle.

I could probably steal it when he’s not looking and ride back to the safety of the estate.

Going back means more potions from Astrid, more endless talk-talk-talk about control and balance.

It means safety, but also constraint.

Joining the hunt means risk, but also the chance to understand a part of myself I’ve been fighting against.

“I’m not killing anything,” I say by way of a decision.

“Fair enough,” Sully agrees.

“Just run with us. Feel what it means to be in a pack, even if only for one night.”

Rhea stares at me.

I sense her begrudging respect before she turns away to rejoin the others.

When she’s gone, Sully says, “This is the right choice, Tamara. You can’t control what you don’t understand.”

“I’m not doing this to control it,” I clarify.

“I’m doing it to know it.”

“Same thing, different words.” He strides toward a side exit.

“We leave in ten minutes.”

The thought of running with a pack sends a ripple of anxiety through me.

I’ve fought so hard against the changes in my body, against the pull of both vampire and werewolf natures.

Deliberately embracing one seems counterintuitive.

But maybe that’s been my mistake all along.

Fighting against what I am instead of working with it.

Balance doesn’t mean suppression.

It means harmony.

Every time I give up the inner fight, things seem to get better.

Until I black out and destroy the family library.

Well, nobody is perfect.

I draw my fingers across his motorcycle as I follow Sully outside toward the waiting pack.

For so long, I’ve been defined by what others want me to be.

The Devine’s human daughter.

Conrad’s pawn.

Draakmar’s keeper.

The vampire’s progeny.

The werewolves’ Alpha.

Tonight, I reject those imposed identities.

I claim the right to define myself.

Sully takes his rightful place at the head of the pack.

A feeling of relief comes over me to know that it’s settled.

I have a feeling I’m not the only one feeling this way.

There’s no resentment in me, no sense of missed opportunity.

That role was never truly mine.

The wolves begin to shift.

The air fills with the sounds of transformation.

Bones crack.

Bodies reshape.

Groans turn into howls.

Peter comes up next to me, grinning in welcome.

He doesn’t speak as he lets his body change.

I close my eyes, reaching inside myself for the wolf blood that now swells in my veins.

I don’t try to suppress instinct.

Instead, I invite it forward.

The change begins slowly, then accelerates.

There’s pain, but also exhilaration as my body reshapes itself.

I become attuned to the night around me.

My senses sharpen beyond even their vampire-enhanced state.

I can sense the excitement of the pack, smell the distant trees beyond the steel mill, hear the rapid heartbeats of tiny creatures in the woods, feel the cool night air against fur that now covers parts of my body.

When I open my eyes, the world looks more vivid.

The pack is no longer a collection of individuals but a single living organism, bound by invisible ties of loyalty and shared purpose.

Sully, now in his massive half-wolf form, meets my gaze across the gravel drive.

There’s approval in his golden eyes.

He throws back his head and howls.

The sound echoes off the metal building.

The pack joins him, our voices blending into a primal chorus.

As the howl fades, Sully leads us toward the woods.

I hesitate only briefly before sprinting alongside them.

We move as one.

This is freedom.

I’ve rejected a destiny others tried to force upon me.

I’ve chosen my own way.

And for the first time since my rebirth, that feels like enough.