Page 16

Billie

IT’S BEEN A week since the attack on Jax.

A week of meetings, conference calls, video calls, sorting through and attempting to decipher data, and accessing bank accounts, email accounts, phone messages, and credit card statements.

A week of Xander, Ethan, and me working together so that at least one of us is with Jax on campus, walking him to class, waiting for him outside of class, grabbing a bite of food, or hanging out at the library.

A week of Jax trying to manage how everyone is just a little different around him. Some people are checking in more, looking at him with sympathetic, almost pitying eyes. Others seem awkward, as if they don’t know what to say and are afraid to look at him. I’ve caught a few gossiping, with their hungry eyes on him while trying to hide their flapping gums behind cupped hands. A couple of air-rippling warning growls from Little Fox and a baring of teeth stopped that shit fast. Then there’s Merry. Merry is Merry, and to him, Jax is Jax as he always has been, and nothing could ever change who they are to each other. A true-blue bromance.

In my opinion, Jax has been handling everything extremely well. He even did research on the sexual assault of men and has talked with Elder Ralph twice since the incident, with plans to have continued weekly sessions together. Enzo and I both experienced sexual assault, me mostly on the streets and him at our last foster home. Enzo suffered more than me, and both of us benefited from therapy, though it took Enzo years to finally get help. And we were kids when it all happened. I wouldn’t have gone to therapy as soon as I did if it wasn’t for Micky. He required it.

As for Councilman Hogan, our approach to him changed after we received the downloads of information regarding the testing, including correspondence between certain pack leaders on providing what was referred to as specimen to meet annual contractual agreements with Decoction. Within those were also negotiations on what was to be received: deliveries and results from specific testing. The evidence is damning. The problem is most, if not all, of the contracts went through Xander’s father, with him organizing the collection of specimen. Then there’s just the quantity of information to comb through. I mean, we’re talking a deluge worth of information. Our phones kept pinging with the emails, more and more coming through, as if it were done on purpose. It felt like when the US government releases the federal budget; the document is available for all citizens, but it’s so long and all-encompassing that the politicians don’t expect anyone to actually read it page by page.

Once we were able to shake off the stun from the torrential flow of data, we decided to call Councilman Swanson. After hearing a broad description of what happened, he patched in Councilman MacNeill. With Hogan being a councilman, he’s required to abide by certain shifter ethics, rules, and practices, ones that are even more stringent than those set forth for the general shifter population. Councilmen must lead by example. As such, the possibility of the Shifter High Council internally investigating Hogan and his pack has now become definitive. Furthermore, with the amount of evidence against Xander’s father when he was alpha, that investigation will also include... well, shit, Xander’s pack. As of now, we’ve been instructed to keep our knowledge and the involvement of the Shifter High Council discreet, and we were directed to not engage or question Hogan.

In an effort to not draw suspicion and not divulge what we know, Xander chose to appear inept and overwhelmed as a newly appointed alpha, giving Hogan and Veronica the impression he hadn’t understood he only had forty-eight hours to question Hogan. They both left pack lands with smug smirks on their faces—and with council-provided spyware on their laptops and phones. Ethan uploaded it with the guidance of MacNeill and Assad since we all agreed to include Alessandro, the twins, and even Annabelle in this.

As for Amber... after being sedated and the mating saliva drawn from her gums, she stabilized. Sort of. She’s still unhinged but no longer hanging from the rafters, trying to hump the bars of her cell. She’s able to hold a conversation, and though her beliefs about Jax and her are still rooted in delusion, she’s confessed to everything. Her parents are claiming her innocent by reason of mental disease or defect, and given what they found in her locked room—basically an altar dedicated to Jax—well, the plea is looking pretty strong. Xander’s wolf was able to connect with Amber’s, but what he found left him and Xander hesitant to take her on as a pack member. I don’t know exactly what happened, but from how Xander explained things to Coco and Brian, he said he felt it wouldn’t be right, that he’d be taking advantage of someone who wasn’t in a stable enough mental state to allow him in as her alpha. He also stated he had trouble reaching her wolf fully, that Amber’s obsession with Jax had overtaken much of Amber’s wolf’s mental landscape. And with Xander’s wolf being bonded to Jax, he was unsure of what kind of effect connecting with her wolf could have.

Current discussions center on a plea agreement that would allow Amber to be sent to a secured mental health facility in Cananda for a minimum of five years. Brian is resistant to this, since it’s run by and open to mixed subspecies, while Coco is desperate to make it happen. They have seventy-two hours to make their decision, or they must prepare for her to stand trial.

Now it’s Friday night, and we’re heading to what’s been described as an absolute rager of a party. Six kegs of beer, and a mixed-drink concoction that includes fruit that’s been soaked in vodka overnight, served from a plastic-bag-lined trash can, promising to get any freshman girl absolutely annihilated. You know the typical mayhem and debauchery I expected at college.

JUST KIDDING!

HA! HA! HA!

A college keg party on a Friday night? Who does that? Not us. Nope.

All my hopes of parties and drinking and hooking up and making bad decisions at college seem fantastical now—like, people-turning-into-animals type of crazy talk. Except, wait... yeah people turning into animals is my reality, and keg parties are becoming urban legends, not to mention that the few parties I’ve attended since being here have left me with more than a hangover and a bad taste in my mouth. Well, fucking Xander wasn’t bad, but the other two? Yeah, I guess I’ve seen ‘The Behind the Story of College Parties,’ ‘The Dark Side of the Solo Cup,’ if you will, and I’m thinking I’m okay with missing out.

Though it’s not like the activities we have planned for tonight have me jumping for joy. More like either jumping out of the truck and bolting the feck outta here, or wondering if I should have sharpened the kitchen knives and created sheaths made from upholstery fabric and duct tape. Ones I could’ve worn under the oversized dark-blue sweater I stole from Xander. Because I could use the extra protection tonight, since it’s the last chance for the sniff-and-meet between Xander’s wolf and the remaining former pack members.

Out of the approximately forty wolves who had originally refused to connect with Xander’s wolf, about half of them agreed to most of his terms. Some dismissed their chance to connect with Xander’s wolf, deciding to leave pack lands immediately, having already been accepted into the Midwest Pack.

Those who have applied to the Southeast Pack are having a harder time. I guess the Southeast Pack is, as they say in the south, a little highfalutin, requiring prospective pack members to produce financial statements, shifter heritage, lists of accolades and accomplishments, and several personal references (ideally from current members of the Southeast Pack), and candidates must display a general knowledge of southern hospitality, culture, and history. They can stay on pack lands while awaiting approval or dismissal, but they have to connect with Xander’s wolf to do so. Some have, others haven’t.

Then there are the ten or so wolves who are refusing to leave and have also refused Xander’s wolf.

Why are they being so stubborn? They’re afraid. Afraid of the change they’ve seen in some of the wolves who have connected with Xander and his wolf over this last week. There were many members who had been highly vocal about not accepting Xander as their alpha, that if he were to keep me as his mate and allow for non-wolf-shifters to become pack members, then they’d never bow to him, never accept him as their alpha. They agreed to connect, agreed to their wolves meeting Xander’s, thinking either it would change nothing or perhaps change Xander’s decision regarding the future of the pack. It would allow him to see things from their point of view, see the validity of their concerns.

But when they did connect, all that fight and anger crumbled like centuries-old plaster walls, many of the members falling apart at Xander’s feet. One intimate interaction with Xander and his wolf, had them seeking acceptance, crying, and weeping in both pain and joy, with some proclaiming that they didn’t know, they didn’t understand. Others clutched at their chests, at their shifters, begging for forgiveness.

That drastic turnabout in their peers’ views is being used by Xander’s most stalwart of opposers as evidence to support the latest rumor: That Xander’s connection to me, his wolf’s connection to Little Fox, has somehow altered or interfered with the process. That I’ve infected Xander and am controlling him in order to infiltrate the pack. Which, I mean, what a complete load of bullshit. Not only do I have no desire to be in charge of anything or anyone besides myself, but I’ve also made sure to keep myself distracted and removed from the process as much as possible.

It’s Xander. It’s X-Wolf. It’s their strength and confidence in themselves as alphas, in their abilities, and in the nature of wolves. It’s how well they’re able to get to the core of each member they’ve connected with. That’s my best guess based on what I saw with Brian and Coco anyway. With Brian, there was that pushing of power between them, the fight for dominance, and Xander’s power flowed over Brian’s like a wave far out at sea, a subtle roll of water vast enough to capsize a vessel. With Coco, his energy was completely different—open and almost soft, letting her pull him in and then him comforting, soothing her.

As if sensing my thoughts, Xander draws me in tighter against him and rests one of my legs over his while nuzzling his nose into my hair. I turn into his embrace, sliding my arm across his taut abs and burrowing my face into the nook of his shoulder and chest. The plush quality of his new blue sweater, not so oversized on him, is soft on my cheek, and the knit is loose enough to allow his scent to breathe freely. I do just that, inhaling him, snuggling into him, taking the moment to be us, wishing we could pull over and have Ethan and Jax join.

With my true-mates now official pack leaders and shit , there seems to have been a leveling up in more ways than one. On the way home from the pack police station last weekend, both Ethan and Jax mentioned how their beta powers had not only intensified but expanded in application. A notable boost occurred when they acted as representatives of either their pack alpha or the pack in general. Then there’s their positions of leadership and the true reality that threats directed at Xander are now threats to the leader of close to two hundred wolves. This is why I’ve found myself snuggled up to Xander in the back of his truck instead of with Jax, who is driving, while Ethan is methodically scanning the dark woods for threats.

I can’t help but wonder: Will it always be like this? Not that I mind snuggling with Xander, but I miss my playmate. This was one of our things, our shared experiences. We could smile and giggle and be childlike in our own little bubble in the back seat. I release a heavy sigh and squeeze Xander a little snugger.

“I know,” he whispers with a kiss against my temple. “I know, things are changing, but we’ll find our way.”

I nod, rubbing myself deeper into his hold. “I know, and I like being with you, holding you. I...” I inhale and say in a quiet voice, “I just don’t want to lose my playmate.”

“None of us do,” he affirms, brushing his hand over the side of my head before tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. “I think you may need to be the playmate for him. Be who Jax was to Ethan and me when we were kids.”

Hearing his words, images of them goofing off as kids flash through my mind, and bubbles of giddiness spread through my chest. I twist in Xander’s hold so I can face him. Seeing the gleam in my eyes, his lips tug up into a lopsided smile. “That’s right, mate,” he affirms, his nose rubbing mine. “I think you get what I’m saying.”

“Playdates,” I whisper-cheer. “Set up playdates with my playmate.”

“Yeah.” He nods. Then? Then Xander pouts out his bottom lip and gives me overdramatic puppy-dog eyes while practically begging, “And maybe with Ethan and me as well.”

I sit up taller in my seat and throw a leg over his lap, straddling him. “Oh,” I tease, with my characteristic spastic brow waggle, which makes him shake his head and gust out a short laugh. “Oh, you wanna play? Do you, Xander?”

His hands rub their way up my thighs to squeeze my hips, while my fingers play with the ends of his hair. “Oh, I so do, Billie. I so do.”

“I don’t know,” I drawl with an arched brow. “I don’t know if you can handle my level of play. The commitment needed to attain the degree of childlike enthusiasm is pretty dang high.”

Xander cants his head to the side and skates one hand up to brush the back of his knuckles over my cheek. “I think you’ve underestimated my capabilities when it comes to play, mate,” he chides right before flicking my ear.

“ Stronzo !”

I yelp in mock outrage, cupping my hand over my assaulted lobe while my other hand grabs a fistful of his hair. Yanking his head back, I glower, “You dare flick my ear? The Demon’s ear!”

Xander makes some kind of choking laughing noise that is soon silenced as I drag my tongue—coated with, as Marcus would say, a Saint Bernard’s level of saliva—from his chin all the way to his hairline. It’s not sexy. It’s not hot. It’s a third-grade, I’m-giving-you-cooties type of lick. Xander’s eyes bulge, and his mouth opens, about to retort, but I quickly take hold of his tongue between my knuckles and give it a gentle jerk.

“What was that?” I sing. “Sorry, Xander, were you trying to say something? Because I couldn’t hear you.” He makes some more choking sounds, and the edges of his mouth twitch while he tries to wrangle his tongue out of my hold. “Oh, I see, Demon’s got your tongue, doesn’t she? I play dirty, mate. Best remember that.” I wink and quickly release his tongue before throwing myself off his lap and across the bench seat.

Xander brings his hand up to his mouth, his fingers rubbing his tongue. He side-eyes me. “You...” he starts then stops, needing to roll his tongue around in his mouth. His head bows forward, and he just starts laughing. It’s quiet at first, but it builds until his whole body is shaking. Finally lifting his head back up, he looks at me with watery eyes, and through smiling lips, he says, “You went full-on playground.”

“Nutmeg and leap,” Jax cheers from behind the wheel, turning the truck onto the road that leads up to the pack house, where we’re meeting with our backup. I look at Jax’s reflection in the rearview mirror, and he waggles his brows, his gaze going from me to Xander. “A.K.A. the Mahoney. No game, no play is off limits to our mate.”

“Nope!” I laugh, scooting forward so I can wrap my arms around him from behind. “And you’ll play them all.”

“We will,” he agrees, placing his hand on my forearm and giving it a squeeze.

“And you’ll play ours,” Ethan adds in a totally serious not playful at all voice.

Adjusting my hold on Jax so I can poke my head up between the front seats, I hitch a brow at Ethan. “You got games you wanna play, love?”

Ethan’s eyes remain focused on the exterior of the vehicle, scanning and searching. “That’s what I’m calling them,” he says in a flat voice.

Xander chuckles, and it’s dark and seductive, while Jax chokes on his own bark of laughter. I stare at the side of my dark love’s face with wide eyes, my mouth hanging open. Before I can respond, I’m jostled around by Jax putting the truck in park.

“Wait for us to do a cursory inspection,” Ethan states, his eyes still on our surroundings. “We’ll let you out after we’ve assessed the area.”

Jax pats my arm, and I reluctantly release my hold on him. The severity of the situation we’re about to enter settles like wet cement in my stomach. With heavy eyes on Ethan’s back, I promise in a clogged voice, “I’ll play any games you want, love.” Any games so long as we’re all alive, together, and able to play them, I think but don’t say.

With his hand on the latch, he pauses and says, “I know you will, love.” Then he and Jax exit the vehicle, leaving Xander and me waiting for them to make sure it’s safe for us to get out.

“It’ll be fine, Wilhelmina,” Xander assures me, placing a hand on my thigh. “Things might be a little rough tonight, but we’re strong, we have support, and...” He hesitates, and I turn to him, meeting his determined gaze. “We all have something and people worth living and fighting for.”

“Love,” I whisper, leaning into him and pressing my lips against his. “Our love and each other.”

“Us, first always,” he vows against my lips, his hand cradling the back of my head.

I lean back just enough to pull off my new old sweater, because it is mine now, and I’m well aware that whatever clothes I wear tonight may be sacrificed. Tossing it on the seat, I look into Xander’s eyes and show him the fighter in me, show him the strength and will to live and love I have cultivated over the years. “Let’s do this.”

“O’Sullivan smart,” Xander says.

My heart catches and I finish the sentiment “Den strong.”