Night Forgiven, page 2
He didn’t seem impressed, and her breath caught in her throat as her mind played out all the ways this could go terribly wrong. If he called the police, what would happen to her? How would it affect the pack? She so rarely came to town, and now this had happened. She had the worst fucking luck.
His brow furrowed and his stare softened. “I’m sorry, miss.”
She exhaled, but her body still shook. “I’d watch those girls,” she said under her breath. “I’ll be going now.”
He stepped to the side and she rushed down the line of storefronts, escaping the heavy weight of lupine stares as fast she could without resorting to running. Her heart pounded in her chest and her hands shook, fingertips nearly numb. Her wolf wasn’t anxious the way her human form was, however. Rage burned deep inside. It didn’t enjoy being humiliated.
She stopped outside the rundown diner where eventually she’d meet up with the rest of her pack to head home. She was early, but she’d wait. The town no longer interested her.
She’d managed to kill about five minutes leaning against the grungy brick wall before a group came around the corner. The young women from the shop. She didn’t care for the coincidence. It was a small shopping strip, but they didn’t look the sort to patronize the cheap diner.
She pretended not to see them, but the blue-eyed bitch from before came to a stop. “No luck finding a fuck today?” she sneered.
Sierra bristled inwardly, but hoped that expression didn’t reflect it. “What’s your problem with me?”
“Just the usual.” One of her friends yanked on her arm with an impatient, “Just stop!” but the blue-eyed nuisance continued. “We don’t need your kind here—trash coming to sniff around and screw the locals.”
“I’m not here to screw anybody, not that it’s your business,” Sierra replied. She looked away after, hoping the group would move along and leave her in peace. The small town had no idea just who they were. They weren’t human, first of all. They weren’t trash, secondly.
The breeze ruffled a heavily perfumed scent her way and the human stood directly before her. She narrowed her eyes, then poked the center of Sierra’s ribcage. “Go home.”
Sierra stifled a growl. The poke hadn’t hurt, but it did shake loose the blockade holding back her anger. “Don’t touch me.”
The young woman rolled her eyes and stepped back. “Like I’m afraid of a whore.” Then she rocked forward, shoving Sierra with all her strength.
It wasn’t enough.
If Sierra were human, she likely would’ve stumbled back, possibly hit the wall with a thud. But she wasn’t human, and she was out of patience.
She shoved the young woman with a single flat palm to her chest, sending her sprawling back against her friends, one of whom tripped and fell as a result.
“How dare you!” one of them screeched.
“Leave me alone,” Sierra snarled. “I barely touched you.”
The young woman she’d pushed launched forward, but in the same moment a new body appeared and placed themselves in front of Sierra.
Viktor Fekete—heir to the clan, suck-up to their alpha, and perpetual pain in Sierra’s ass—held the girl carefully in his strong arms. “Hey, whatever my sister did, she’s sorry. We don’t want trouble.”
Sierra stepped to the side, watching the girl’s blue eyes take in all six-foot-plus of Viktor and his ridiculously handsome face. She appeared to have been struck by his appearance, and Sierra rolled her eyes.
“I had it under control,” she muttered.
The clench of his jaw indicated how little he believed her, but he didn’t bother looking in her direction. He kept his gaze friendly and trained on the group of young bullies. “I hope your day hasn’t been ruined too much.”
The young woman, who by now had shown herself to be the leader of the rude gang of humans, grinned like a daft toddler. “We’ll be fine. You said she’s your sister?”
He nodded. “And we’re on our way out.”
“Ah. Maybe you can make it up to me next time you come to town. Buy me a coffee?”
Sierra’s jaw dropped. For fuck’s sake. Who was this bitch calling a whore, exactly? She bit her tongue and crossed her arms. More of her pack had gathered, and she just wanted the moment to end.
Viktor chuckled. “I don’t get to town often, but maybe. It’s quite possible we’ll bump into each other again.”
He turned his back on the group, his expression changing immediately upon landing on Sierra. His lips barely moved. “Back to the truck.”
Sierra didn’t need to be told twice; she was more than ready to go. The handful of lupine who had been visiting town appeared as if summoned, falling in to flank her as they hurried to where Viktor’s truck was parked down the road.
She put a hand on the back lift to boost herself up, but Viktor tapped her side. “You’re riding in the cabin.”
“But—”
“Now.”
No one commented. Sierra rounded the truck and climbed in.
The engine hummed to life and she couldn’t help but speak. “I didn’t do anything.”
“You touched a human.”
“Barely.”
“You nearly sent her flying.” He shook his head. “Tell me everything from the beginning.”
She glared at his profile. “It wasn’t my fault.”
“It’s never your fault. I’ve been hearing that for months now. But this is strike three for you.”
3
Sierra leaned against the cold bark of a tree, arms crossed. Scattered around among the forest, her pack stared her down. The moon was round and full, ready to burst over the sky, and many of the lupines had already dropped to the earth in wolf form. They still stared, of course, their yellow eyes burning into her like pinpricks of fire, embers shaken free from their judgement.
They didn’t hate her; they simply thought themselves better. Sierra curled her lip just thinking of it.
They’d always found a reason to look down on her, even when they’d stood elbow-to-elbow with her as friends. But now they’d turned on her, championing her actions one minute, condemning them the next. Her recent incident with the human had been the last straw, supposedly, but she knew they had all been waiting for her to fall. They wanted to knock her down a peg. Every day.
She had one more month to right her wrongs, but unlike before where everyone simply watched her for bad behavior, now she was only allowed to directly interact with Viktor. Worse, he couldn’t simply tell Ian she’d improved.
“Ready?”
Her gaze slid into the darkness from where Viktor approached as if summoned by her annoyance. She turned up her nose. “It takes more to pull me down.”
He rolled his deep brown eyes, but didn’t comment.
The moon pulled all lupine into their wolf forms once a month. Some shifted the moment the moon hit the tree line. Others held it off for minutes more. Her old pack saw it as an indicator of power. Sierra had never agreed with the notion, but now felt compelled to prove herself by fighting the change until it overtook her.
Fighting it went against everything within her, though. Connecting with the earth, succumbing to the moon’s gentle caress, embracing the simple side of her nature—shifting for the wolf moon was incredible.
Only pride kept her standing tall, chest puffed in the chilly winter night. The cold penetrated her thin robe, but she refused to shiver. Everything had changed in such a short amount of time. She’d been on the top of the world. Now she was at the bottom with the scraps.
Viktor turned his neck side to side in a slow stretch and ran his finger through his long, loose hair, shaking it out. The dark chestnut strands danced in the wind and his scent whirled around her. She wrinkled her nose.
He had an amazing scent. Even with the promise of snow biting through the air, he smelled like warmth brought to life. His scent was part of his appeal. He was an arrogant ass and built accordingly. Perfect scent. Perfect body. Perfect hair. Perfect brooding stare.
It was just her luck to be stuck with him. The perfect lupine held her leash, marking her as the mutt she was. The contrast was obvious.
She held her tongue as a complaint rose in her throat. She should have been running the wolf moon with her friends, not him.
That argument would fall flat, of course. Recently she’d had to face the truth—she had no true friends. Given the choice, no one would run with her, and that included Viktor. Only his obligation to keep her out of trouble prevented her from being completely alone. Hardly the consolation she wanted.
A shiver ran through her and her vision blurred before sharpening further than it had been before. A wolf howled, not in the wild, but within her. She crouched and took a deep breath as the moon coaxed her inner beast free.
As cinnamon fur spread along her body, her thoughts settled. Her rage dissipated. She sniffed the ground and sensed a large presence beside her. A black wolf that hid the moon moved in front of her, his bright eyes appraising her. She whined, and he responded with a low bark.
They turned and followed the rest of the pack, ready to own the night.
4
Sierra hugged her bent legs to her chest as thin wisps of smoke rise through the mist of daybreak. The sky was barely lit, but she’d woken early as she always did. Viktor had woken earlier still.
He stacked chips of wood atop the barely visible flame he’d scraped out with flint and a few deft strikes of his pocketknife. A few seconds later, the chips glowed and caught. He added larger twigs and motioned her forward to feed the fire while he stepped away.
Not all lupine had rudimentary survival skills. Her old pack heralded such wisdom, but only for the males. She’d never learned to build a fire, but her brother Kalle had taught her to at least keep one burning. It was tempting to let this one die to spite Viktor, but a good fire meant a good meal.
Viktor returned with a handful of eggs and two skinned rabbits, which he set on his leg and sawed at with a knife, breaking their bodies into smaller pieces. Her mouth watered, and the scent of fresh meat drew a loud growl from her famished stomach.
The run always took a lot out of her. The morning following each wolf moon, the pack would wake together and prepare a veritable banquet for breakfast. Bacon, sausage, eggs, pancakes—anything and everything she could want. They ate as a pack. She and her friends would chatter about all they remembered from the run and reminisce about the freedom of running wild through the night.
Now, however, she wasn’t welcome there. She shouldn’t care and shouldn’t think of them, but she did. She shouldn’t have an ache in her chest from the memories and rejection, but she did.
She gazed at the eggs on the ground, most likely gathered while she’d slept. The food and what it represented wasn’t lost on her, as much as it pained her to give him the thanks he deserved for it.
It was just her and Viktor.
Though she understood that given the choice, Viktor and his wolf would rather not be huddled in the cold with her far from where their pack was gathered and bonding, she didn’t have sympathy for him. He may not have chosen her, but he’d chosen his stance. She couldn’t take responsibility for what that stance earned him. She was grateful beyond what she’d ever confess, but deep down she didn’t pity his circumstance.
“Plump,” she commented, watching him toss the meat in the skillet.
He nodded. The fire crackled. The wind whistled through the trees around them. They didn’t speak.
Sierra hated the silent treatment. Even if Viktor was the last lupine she wanted to talk to, she did want to talk. After a few quiet minutes, she moved closer, adding a few twigs to the fire. It didn’t need them, but she liked to watch them burn.
“My wolf never thinks about breakfast the next day,” she said.
“She’s impulsive,” he replied.
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“I would,” he grumbled. “It seeps through. Undisciplined wolf, undisciplined lupine.”
And just like that, her desire to converse fizzled and died.
He had a point, but he didn’t have to be so damn judgmental. Yes, in her wolf form she never thought ahead. She caught her share of creatures under the moonlight, but it wasn’t a conscious act. Her wolf didn’t plan. Her wolf simply did. Her wolf lived in the moment and the moment alone. As did she, typically.
Spontaneity was just as respectable a trait as his preparedness.
“You realize that you’ve got only one more wolf moon?” he asked. “You could at least try. You could at least fake it, for fuck’s sake.”
“How do I show improvement when I’ve done nothing that needs it?” she snarled. He had a way of bringing out her anger. Maybe she didn’t need to snap at him while he was providing her a hot meal, but her temper didn’t consult her hunger.
He stabbed at the meat and shuffled it around the pan, shaking his head. “How about remorse?”
“I have none.”
“Pretend you have it.”
“Lupine don’t lie.”
He laughed, low, cold, and unamused. “Everyone lies.”
“They shouldn’t.”
He met her eyes, and the darkness in them made her wary. Most lupine had brown eyes. Viktor’s weren’t just brown. They weren’t mud or tree bark, or anything so mundane. Nor were they sweet like chocolate, or whatever flowery things lovers compared each other’s eyes to. Viktor’s eyes were gateways into an abyss that weighed and judged.
Each time she looked into his eyes, really looked into them, something severe stared back at her from their depths. His gaze made her uneasy, and she couldn’t fathom why but no one else sensed it.
The other females of their pack adored him. They thought him handsome and mysterious. Only Sierra got chills around him. If the unease of foreboding could be bundled up and held together with secrets, that molded mess would be Viktor.
She looked away from him. “You know what I mean. I shouldn’t have to lie, and I don’t want to. It’s bad enough that they’re all lying to themselves. The council was on my side.”
“It was never about you and being on your side. It was about not being on her side, and you damn well know it.”
“I did what had to be done.”
“No. We both made mistakes, but it seems one of us is in denial—the one whose future with this pack is on the line.”
Sierra pulled her robe tight against the chill in his words and stood. “I’m going home. I need a bath.”
“Suit yourself,” he said, attention now focused on the rabbit he pulled from the pan and onto a plate. “More for me.”
Her stomach rumbled, but she turned on her heel and ignored it. Regardless of her body’s complaints, she’d lost her appetite.
5
They met for lunch the next day. It was time again for Viktor to lecture her and brainstorm a plan to put Sierra back in the pack’s good graces. Rather than having this meeting in private, they were on display. Seated at a table in the middle of the pack square where most gatherings were held.
Viktor didn’t want Sierra to continue hiding along the edges of their society, even though she’d essentially been pushed there. Very few bothered to interact with her, and so she didn’t care to interact with them. But Viktor insisted she had to pull down her walls and stop meeting every slight with aggression.
Perhaps it worked a little. So far no one had spoken to her directly, but she’d gotten glances that weren’t entirely hostile, and she detected a subtle smile from a few of the lupine she’d formerly called friends. Katy had walked by at one point, though there was no smile from her, only a brief meeting of eyes and an inscrutable expression.
Mostly Viktor and Sierra were avoided. Viktor called it progress. He expected her to warm up to everyone all over again.
“I think we’ve been going about this the wrong way. Instead of you trying not to cause trouble by avoiding everyone, maybe we need to focus on doing the opposite—helping. What do you have to offer?” he asked as he finished his lunch, a hot thermos of chili which Sierra suspected his mother had made him.
“What do you mean?”
“I never kept track of everyone. What is your primary contribution to the pack? What have you done in the past, and what can we capitalize on for the sake of proving that you are making an effort to contribute?”
She drew a blank. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
His brow furrowed. “Everyone does something. Even if it’s something you think is small.”
“Repeating your words won’t make your point. I was never given any sort of task for the pack.”
“Most of us aren’t formally given anything. We simply do.” He frowned and toyed with his water bottle. “Come to think of it, none of the Edon pack seem to have made a noticeable contribution.”
“Because the Edon pack didn’t do that,” she said. Her old pack was only similar to the Sarka pack in the obsession for pure blood. “If anything needed to be done, it was assigned. Hunting, gathering, cleaning. Fixing a roof. When the situation arose, it was assigned. Otherwise, nothing was expected of us. Or rather, nothing was expected of us females.”
Viktor sighed. “I see—”
“Oh wait,” Sierra said smiling wryly. “There was one expectation: mate and churn out pups, the most important task of all.”
He blinked at her, clearly doing his best to ignore the bait. “You’ve been part of the Sarka pack for long enough to have adapted to our ways, and it should be clear that our females are more than breeders.”
She scoffed. “I’ve seen nothing to prove that. When we joined the pack, we were told to follow the lead of the alpha’s mate.”
She arched a brow at him, but didn’t continue. They were in too public a setting to gossip about how Ian’s mate Ruby did nothing but sit at home and lower her head when Ian barked orders. Yet they all knew.
Viktor clenched his jaw, scanning around them to see if any had overheard Sierra’s rude—but truthful—words. “My grandmother was a healer. Many looked to her for wisdom beyond that.”
