Page 10 of The Reveal (Bloodlore #1)

“Let’s see. Full moons. Jagged teeth. You walk around like humans until you decide to tear faces off. Silver bullets. That one werewolf in London who got a song. You know, all the usual stuff.”

“Just say you know nothing, then,” Maddox says with a laugh.

“First, there are two different kinds of werewolves. There are the blood and there are the bitten. Blood is what I am. And what Ty is. When you talk about the pack, that’s what you’re talking about.

Blood. ” I think for a moment I can see the moon in her eyes, but she keeps talking, and I don’t see any sudden, hairy transformations out here on this step.

“The bitten are foot soldiers, at best. They’re entirely slaves to the moon.

We’re not. Affected , yes. But if we have to, we can hold back the shift.

Critical difference.” She punctuates that with a sip of her drink.

“Another critical difference, pack leaders win that position through combat. Bloody. Brutal. Probably as bad as you imagine, and worse. But the mate of a pack leader is preordained.”

“What do you mean by preordained?”

“I mean full-on fated mates, Winter. Straight up.”

“Oh.” I try to digest that. “Okay. You’re fated to be his mate, but you don’t want to be. He does want you to be his mate, though, so he doesn’t like you’re hiding out here, somehow escaping that destiny.”

“Close.” Maddox’s smile is looking lazy again.

“Of course I want to be his mate. Did you look at him?” She laughs at whatever expression I have on my face.

“I like power. I like a male who can wield it. And I really like the fact that I’ve been promised to the Rix of the Western Wolves since before I was born.

I’ve always been his. I don’t have a problem with that. ”

“But instead of living with him in ... What was that word? Rick’s?”

“ Rix, ” she says, a subtle correction. “It basically means ‘king’ in the old language.” She waves that away. “I have every intention of taking my place beside him, but the thing is, I want to do it my way.”

In the midst of all these things that don’t make sense and that I should probably not be just accepting so easily, this tracks the most. Maddox Hemming, doing it her way.

Whether that’s not going to prom despite the fact she was named prom queen, randomly championing the kids in high school who everyone treated terribly, or even this.

Showing up at my house. Moving away from whatever her situation is because she feels like it. Maddox all the way.

Maybe she sees my appreciation of that on my face, because she nods.

“Mates of the Rix don’t go to college. And don’t really stay in high school half the time.

Their job is to support their man, keep him calm when necessary, and fire him up when needed.

” She is looking at her feet again. “But there’s a meekness there, if you see what I’m saying. It’s assumed . And I don’t like it.”

“Well,” I say, frowning out into the dark, where there are definitely no zombies tonight, because who would dare defy Maddox in anything? “One thing I think we can all agree on is that you’ve never been meek.”

She taps her mug to mine. “There’s a ritual.

It can only be performed during a full moon, and once it happens, he and I are bound together.

Permanently. He wanted that done years ago.

But I want him to make it clear that it’s me, specifically, that he wants.

Not just whatever woman could have come along to take this role.

I’ve been holding him off, and as you saw tonight, he doesn’t like it. ”

“He did not like it at all.” I study the tree line, wondering what’s out there, watching us. “So you’re refusing to get intimate with him until he—”

“I didn’t say that .” Maddox lets out a low laugh.

“Tonight might be the first time in as long as I can remember that we’ve been in the same room together and haven’t fucked.

Intimacy isn’t the issue.” She laughs again.

“There’s no doubt at all that I’m his mate, Winter.

The whole pack knew before I was born. Everyone can sense it, like a change in the wind.

That’s not the issue. The issue is, I want him to see me as a whole person first. And only then as his mate. ”

I sit with that for a minute. Maybe a lot of minutes. The smoke isn’t as thick at night, and I can stare up at the stars. I can’t remember the last time I simply sat here, beneath them, without keeping watch over my perimeter—or running for my life.

It’s been more than three years. I know that.

“Your brother is on his side of things,” I say, remembering that scene in the yard earlier. “And I’m betting all your cousins are too.”

“They are, because they’re assholes,” Maddox says, but cheerfully, as if assholery is only to be expected.

“They want power. Once Ty claims me, their status changes in the pack. Me refusing to submit to the ritual puts that off, and they’re pissed.

They’ve been pissed. They would probably all stop talking to me to really show me how pissed they are, but then how would they use me once I take my fated role?

” Her laugh this time has an edge. “Such a conundrum.”

“If I’m following this, and I’m probably not, what you’re telling me is that you defied your entire culture to stay in school, to not be the prom queen, and to go off to college.”

“Proms are really dumb,” Maddox says with a roll of her eyes.

“And you know, werewolves live a long time. There’s a movement within the pack, to be more .

..” She pauses, as if she’s trying to translate it into words I’ll understand.

“Instinct based is how I’d put it. ‘Let the wolf lead,’ they say.

That’s fine, but we don’t live in a world that’s only wolves, and sometimes it makes sense to take in other perspectives.

That was how I pitched it to Ty, and that’s why he let me go to college.

Because he could have said no. Half the pack thought he should have. He’s mad about that, too.”

I try not to look at her then. “How long have you been actually with him?”

Her laughter floats up again. “I can’t tell you. You humans are so prudish about the most natural things. Remember, you and I are not the same species. I was never as young as you were. Not in anything but years.”

I’m still thinking about that later, tossing and turning in my bed upstairs, because I can’t keep myself from thinking about the scene I witnessed right there on the front porch.

I saw the way they looked at each other.

I don’t know why I ever imagined that they weren’t having sex constantly. They practically exude sex.

I also think about the fact that I could barely meet Ty Ceridwen’s gaze. Every single thing inside me screamed at me to look away, and I did.

Yet I watched her stare right at him.

I sleep, but it’s not better. That dark bitch is waiting for me, her breath full of decay.

You will submit to me too, she tells me. It’s what you’re made for.

When I wake up in the morning, my throat feels raw, as if I was screaming.

My skull feels like it might split open.

I think I hear a telltale shuffling out in the woods.

But if the zombies are circling when I heave myself out of bed, they don’t come near enough for me to see them, much less shoot them.

Maybe what Maddox told me is true. Maybe her being here offers protection after all.

The house is quiet all around me as I pad down the stairs, though I pause briefly when I reach the windows in the front room.

I can hear a faint sound of chanting out in the yard.

My first thought is it’s something evil, coming to try out some vile spells—but then I see the light from Savi’s windows.

Meditation, I think then, because she has that overly yoga-ed look.

Two things I should probably look into, but that sounds like the sort of stuff people do when they’re concerned about their longevity.

That’s not an issue of mine.

I go through the usual routine with Gran’s and my coffee, and even let her tell me a little too much about her cards, until I remind her that we both need to eat our breakfast.

I don’t like to stop her from talking about the things that interest her, but I’ve always had an aversion to those damned cards. There was never any telling her that when she was fully herself. Now that she’s not, why would I be so cruel?

I head for the kitchen to make us some food but stop short in the front hall.

There’s a piece of paper wedged beneath the flap of metal that covers the peephole. I drift closer, my adrenaline already sounding the alarm. Gingerly, I shift the peephole to one side, and whatever it is falls away. I can hear it flutter to the ground outside.

I wait there a moment, counting. One, one thousand. Two, one thousand.

Only then do I take the risk of putting my eye to the peephole, a quick look first to make sure nothing is standing right there . Then, when I see only the porch with nothing scary looming, I take a second, longer look.

When I’m reasonably sure that no one’s lurking about, I ease open the heavy inner door and frown down at the folded piece of paper that someone stuck on it. Deliberately.

I nudge it with my foot, but nothing blows up, turns into a snake, or does any of the other horrible things that I can imagine only too well.

I bend down to pick it up, but I don’t look at it. I look around instead, keeping an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. Anything that might indicate someone is watching me pick this up, which will be a good indication that I shouldn’t.

But there’s nothing.

Just the usual sound of morning birds in the trees, that chanting that sometimes sounds like a song, and a little bit of clear daylight because it’s early morning and the smoke hasn’t settled in yet.

Back inside the house, I lock everything up and then unfold the paper, though I quickly realize it isn’t paper. It’s heavy card stock.

I have a message for you, the card reads, written out in a bold, thick hand. Please come to Archangel MMA at sunset.

And below that is a signature. Ariel Skinner .

A lot of things press into my head at once, making the headache I thought I’d gotten rid of threaten again, because everything I’m thinking is nuts.

I know what Archangel MMA is. It’s the old mixed martial arts school that’s been there as long as anyone can remember, down where Main Street meets the river, where every kid I know took at least one martial arts class over the years.

It was called Spartan Arts when I was a kid. It was a karate school before then.

As for Ariel Skinner ... I know that name too.

Everybody knows that name. I’ve never seen him in person, which is likely part of why I’m still alive, because Ariel Skinner is the king of the vampires.

Apparently of all the vampires, or so I’ve heard, but particularly the ones in this valley.

Samuel has actually met him and claims that it was his negotiation tactics that brought the likes of Ty Ceridwen and Ariel Skinner to the table and got them to agree to let us humans live in relative peace in Jacksonville.

I can’t think of a single reason why the king of the fucking vampires would be sending me card-stock messages through my doorway.

I toss it aside when I get into the kitchen and set about making myself more coffee. Even more bitter than usual.

I’m not hungry, but I make Gran her eggs and toast and sit with her for a while, and when I come back into the kitchen with her dishes, Maddox is coming in the back door. We smile at each other, but as she crosses the threshold, she stops dead.

Like she’s slammed straight into a wall.

“What’s wrong?” I ask her, my gaze racing around the room. I press my back against the locked metal door behind me.

Then I look at Maddox and watch her eyes go gold.

I am suddenly, terrifyingly aware that she isn’t a girl I know who sometimes turns into a cute little monster—she’s a wolf.

Who only pretends to be human when it suits her.

Maddox inhales, deep. Then she peers at me with those molten eyes, and I find I’m holding my breath. “Why the fuck do I smell vampire blood?”