Fangs & Fates, page 35
I was out the door before she could finish, running down the hall. “Where are you going? You’re in a bathrobe!” Lane yelled out behind me.
I looked down. I had completely forgotten. But there was no time. I had a wedding to stop and a killer to face. And I knew just where I’d find both.
Chapter Nineteen
Regan
Wedding music filled the air. It was a light, pleasant instrumental number—a traditional wedding march that werewolves had used in our family for centuries. Every note felt like having another rock piled onto my chest. It sounded so much more like a funeral processional to me.
After getting dressed at the house in this itchy, lacy monstrosity and being walked down to the clearing by Dad, I was now alone in the bridal tent, waiting for my cue. The bustle of hairdressers, makeup artists, and florists was all gone. The moment was serene in comparison to everything that had been happening around me all morning. For the past three days, really. But I couldn't relax, knowing that Dad would arrive at any moment to walk me down the aisle, where Thill would be binding me in unholy matrimony to one of the undead.
And Charlie was … well, no one really knew what Charlie was. Not dead but not alive either. My mind flashed back to that awful moment at the party and my stomach knotted. Bitterroot was lethal—the fact that someone had brought it into a den of wolves was bad enough. But when Owen had shown me that grove of it in the woods … And Valentino had admitted he’d known of it since last year when he’d discovered my mother there. This conspiracy went back a year. And still, none of us knew who was responsible.
When we did, someone was going to pay.
The problem was who.
And Dad seemed even less inclined to fill me in now than he had with Mom’s murder investigation. He’d told me the same thing Sheridan had after the party that night. Everything they’d done had been to draw out the killer. He’d admitted to believing it was someone from our side, but beyond that, I couldn’t get a straight answer out of any of them. All that was left was to marry Owen. I needed access to both camps. And I needed authority. Finding the guilty party was clearly up to me, though I had my suspicions.
Leaning out the back of my tent, I studied the gathering crowd: werewolves on one side, vampires on the other. The ceremony was meant to unite our people, bind us together as family and allies, but the audience had still segregated itself.
I could see the sleek black forms of the Rossis sitting up front, on Owen’s side. Soon, I would have to stare into his cold face and walk toward him, bouquet and all, for the sake of the pack. The thought of it sickened me. I wasn't sure which part was worse—that I would be marrying a vampire, or marrying the guy my sister thought she was in love with.
The sound of someone entering my tent from the flap behind me made my heart gutter to a stop in my chest. Time to go.
“Regan.”
Ducking back into the tent, the world spun around me when I saw Carter standing in front of me in his tuxedo. He was one of the ushers helping to seat people, so he was in full formal wear: a black jacket, vest, and slacks. He looked incredible.
I wanted to tell him so. I wanted to tell him a thousand different things, but none of them mattered nor should they be said. Not when I was about to marry the vampire prince. I choked back a cry and fisted my hands, opting for anger instead of anguish.
“What are you doing here?” I hissed.
He stared, his eyes roaming up and down the length of me. He looked awed. “Regan, that dress …. You look beautiful.”
I ignored his words, but not without a pang through my gut. I didn’t want to be beautiful. Not for this. For once, I wanted to be the plain one, to let Charlie and her soft beauty have the spotlight. For a split second, I wanted her to have this, the wedding, the ceremony, the chance to be with the guy she loved. But that was the sister in me. The alpha, the werewolf pack leader, knew it had to be me.
“Regan, are you okay?”
I shook free of my thoughts. It was better not to think at a time like this. “My dad will be here any minute, Carter. You can’t be here.”
Carter’s expression softened and he stepped closer. “Regan, for one second, let’s stop being all about the rules. Stop pushing me away.”
“What’s the point of that, Carter? In less than an hour, I’m going to be Mrs. Vampire Princess. I will always be pretending, always acting, always pushing for the rest of my life.”
“All the more reason to be real with me, one last time, just for a minute.” He took another step. And another. He didn’t stop until his chest almost brushed my own. When he looked down at me, the sadness in his eyes broke my heart.
“Carter, I…” I looked up and met his eyes. I could smell him now. It was rich and earthy and filled my head, pushing out whatever decision I’d made to stay strong. My fists loosened. I could feel my resolve slipping. “If I stop pretending with you, I’ll never want to start again,” I whispered.
He didn’t respond. There was nothing to say. He knew it. I knew it. This had to be done. My father had promised it in his own blood. To go back on it would mean war. Death. The first being my father. I couldn’t walk away from responsibility. I was an alpha. And I didn’t need to say all that to Carter. He knew it, which was one of the things I loved about him.
A sob rose, half escaping before I clamped my jaw shut against the sound. Love? That’s why this was so hard?
“Regan?” Carter’s hands came up, cupping my shoulders. His brows knitted in concern. “You don’t have to be afraid. I’ll be right beside you the whole time. Valentino, your dad, all of us are watching. No one’s going to hurt you.”
I shook my head, desperate. For what, I didn’t know. Maybe for the truth, for just a moment, like he’d said. “I’m not afraid of that, Carter. I’m afraid of you,” I said.
“Me? Why? I would never hurt you.”
“You already have.” Tears brimmed, lining my lids. I held them back. If they fell, my makeup would run and they would all know what torture this was for me.
“How have I—?”
“Because, Carter. I love you.”
The words were out. There was no taking them back, and surprisingly, I didn’t want to. If I lived a hundred years as the vampire princess, I would at least have this moment.
To my surprise, Carter’s eyes filled and he bit down on his lip. Carter, the boy who never cried, never backed down, never admitted weakness. At the sight of it, something inside my chest cracked and broke into tiny pieces. I reached up and wrapped my arms around him, pulling him close. His arms came around me, holding tight, and he buried his face against my hair. “I love you, too, Regan. Always have. Always will.”
A throat cleared. Carter and I broke apart. I shivered as I faced my father, waiting for the accusatory glare that was sure to come after what he’d just witnessed. But his face remained carefully blank. “It’s time,” he said simply.
I nodded. Carter turned, slipping his hand into mine and squeezing as he pressed his lips to my cheek. “Always will,” he whispered. Then he turned and strode out.
I approached my father carefully, bracing myself for the lecture, the berating reminder of responsibility and carrying oneself like a leader. If he did any of that, tears were imminent. I couldn’t hold them back, not after what Carter had said.
I paused in front of my father. “Dad…”
“Sshh.” He placed his hands on my shoulders and looked me square in the eye. When he spoke, his voice was rough, not at all smooth and sure like normal. “You’ve become a leader. I am so very, very proud of you, Regan. Your mother would feel the same if she were here.”
At his praise, a single tear escaped, trailing down my cheek. He caught it and wiped it away. “None of that,” he said. “Let’s go make you alpha.”
He took my arm, looping it through his, and patted my hand once. I barely had time to nod before we were passing through the doors of the tent and into the warming sunshine that would serve as the backdrop to the worst day of my life.
I was only vaguely aware of the looks of sympathy I received as I passed down the center aisle. Mostly, I concentrated on trying to ignore the cold, paleness of my groom waiting at the dais up ahead. As soon as I caught sight of his hard jaw, carefully styled hair, dark eyes—made darker from the crisp, black tux he wore—I looked away. I hated that he looked just as pained as I felt.
There were other faces, waiting expectantly for me to complete my entrance. Thill, gnarled and wobbly where he crouched and leaned on his cane. He was technically presiding over the ceremony, but not without help. Al stood next to Thill, hulking and towering in the small, framed space. He was trying to be subtle in the way he braced Thill but there was nothing subtle about Al, including the sad way he smiled at me when our eyes met.
On Thill’s other side stood Mr. Rossi. My dad would join him in a moment, the two leaders bearing witness to the union and alliance being born here. Owen stood alone, apparently opting out of anyone beside him for support. On my side of the dais stood Bevin, her lips pressed together in a thin line.
My dad’s arm tightened around mine as I took the final steps and stopped in the empty space beside Owen. Thill shook a little as he tried to straighten but then seemed to realize his back wasn’t going to take any shape other than hunched.
Thill’s voice shook as he began. “We gather together for a binding of matrimony that joins two people in an alliance that will forever grant something between our houses we have always lacked. Peace.” The words came slowly. Not that I wanted this over with quickly, but it felt particularly torturous drawing out the sealing of my fate.
A fate that had led me to a sister only to lose her again. A fate that had broken my family. I only hoped I could return the favor when the time came.
Chapter Twenty
Charlie
My bare foot landed hard on the sharp point of a rock and I stumbled. Maybe tearing out of the house in a bathrobe wasn’t the smart move. But there was no going back. I had to get there, to stop this. Somehow.
“Wait!” a voice behind me called out, high pitched and just desperate enough to make me pause and turn.
“If you’re going to tell me to stop, Lane, it won’t work,” I said, shuffling impatiently.
“You don’t want to do this,” she said as she caught up to me, her cheeks puffing out as she caught her breath. Her scar stretched and shrank as she exhaled.
“Yes, I do,” I said, “And I don’t care what any of you think anymore. I can’t let Owen—”
“You don’t understand,” she said, sympathy washing over her features, tugging everything down at the edges. “They chose this, Charlie. Your dad and Sheridan and the council, they were going to give it a few more days to see if you pulled through but Regan and Owen decided not to wait. They asked permission to go ahead and have the wedding. They chose each other.”
Her words slammed into me like a ton of bricks. “What?” I asked weakly, trying to come to terms with what she was saying. But I couldn’t even imagine it. “I don’t believe you,” I breathed, bending at the knees as a wave of exhaustion finally hit me. Whatever adrenaline had fueled me leaked away.
“Come on,” Lane said, slipping an arm around my hip and pointing us back toward the house. “I’ll help you back inside. You shouldn’t have to see....”
I hesitated, torn. “But Regan hates Owen. Even on her best day, she’d rather die than marry a vamp,” I said. I pulled on her to hold my ground. “If they knew I was awake—”
“God, you’re such a pain. Just shut up and lose with some freaking dignity,” Lane snapped, her sympathy suddenly gone. In its place was a coldness that made me shudder.
“Look, I know you’re not my biggest fan, but I have a right to—”
“To nothing!” Lane dropped my hip so abruptly, I almost stumbled. “You don’t have a claim here. You’re not a Vuk. You don’t know us. And you don’t have what it takes to wage a war. Regan does. She deserves alpha, not you.”
I frowned at the intensity of her words. “Lane, you’re entitled to your opinion, but you don’t get to decide—”
“Don’t I?” she asked and something velvety and sharp lay behind her words. “I think the choice is clear. All you have to do is let them think you’re dying for twenty minutes more. And all of it is as it should be.”
“You think letting them get married will put everything right?” I demanded. “You don’t even like the vampires.”
“Which is exactly why this needs to happen.” Her expression twisted into a nasty smile. “I wouldn’t worry too much about the wedding night. The second they’re pronounced man and wife, Regan will do what needs to be done.”
Warning bells sounded in my head and I forced my concentration sharper. Something was going on here. This was more than just mean girl syndrome. “That sounds an awful lot like traitor talk. Something you should be careful of with all these threats—”
“You’re the traitor throwing yourself all over that excuse for a prince. Not to mention a fraud. Something had to be done to remind the pack who the enemy is.” Her words were heavy with meaning and I knew at once she referred to much more than Regan’s mom or the blood treaty.
Fraud? What did she…?
My eyes narrowed as the pieces all clicked into place. I took a step back as awareness finally dawned. “It’s you,” I said, breathless with disbelief and shock. “It’s been you all along. This whole time I thought it was—” I bit out a laugh. “I thought it was Sheridan! What an idiot … You put the heart in my room that day. And the drink—” I tilted my head. “The field full of bitterroot in the forest. That’s yours.”
“Vamps are evil. Thill knew it when he brought us here to exterminate them in the first place. Our alphas grew soft.” Her eyes flashed. “I did what was necessary for justice.”
My jaw hardened at her words. Indignation for Regan’s mother—for Regan and for me—rose in me. My hands balled into fists. “Justice,” I said softly, planting my feet. “I’m looking for the same thing.”
Lane hesitated, and for a split second I thought she was going to bolt. I tensed, ready to chase her. No way was she getting away from me now. I’d come out here looking for a killer and I’d found one.
But the wedding…
My glance flickered sideways for a fraction of a second.
Lane’s eyes followed mine toward the bridal tent not far away and her lips curled in disgust. “Always looking to throw a wrench in things, aren’t you? If you hadn’t come here, Regan would have already been alpha like she was supposed to and we’d have exterminated those monsters once and for all.”
“And if those monsters didn’t kill Regan’s mom?” I demanded, edging toward the path again. I wanted Lane’s throat. But I wanted to stop that wedding just as much.
Lane snarled at me and shimmered at the edges, close to shifting. I called my wolf to the surface and let it hang there, fueling me with energy and healing what was left of my exhaustion. “Of course they didn’t kill Regan’s mom,” she said.
I paused. “You said she went soft. Forgot who the enemy was. Her death—”
“Was a reminder. If she didn’t die how else would we go to war?”
Rage—pure and eclipsing—coursed through me. I shifted and charged all at once, making the change twice as fast as I’d ever done before. My paws slammed into Lane and she fell beneath me, half wolf, half girl as my teeth caught on her shoulder and raked down her flesh.
She cried out until the sound abruptly became a growl, but I didn’t slow or stop. I bit again and again with Lane writhing underneath me. In her wolf form, her scar was a thin line of bare flesh where the fur no longer grew. But all of Lane’s pain and injuries were nothing compared to what my wolf wanted to do to her now. I howled with the need for her blood.
Lane was right. It was time for justice.
Chapter Twenty-One
Regan
A howl split the air, drowning out Thill’s words about taking care of each other through sickness. Owen froze in the middle of an eye roll and we stared back at each other. The assembled crowd hung still for a split second. Then everyone jumped up and ran toward the awful cries coming from near the house.
The train of my dress slowed me down but it couldn’t be helped. The pressing of the crowd made it impossible to shift safely here. I barreled around people, knocking some aside in my attempt to get there first. Owen sped past me, unhindered in his tux.
By the time I got there, a wall of bodies obscured my view. Several shouts rang out but none of them made any sense. From the sounds of it—and from the snarls in the center ring—two werewolves were trying to tear each other’s throats out.
The vamps hung back at the fringes, but I pushed my way through, more irritated than anything else. What kind of classy bunch did it take to wrestle on the lawn on my wedding day?
I broke through the fringes just in time to see Owen let out a snarl and dart into the fray. He moved so fast, it took all my senses to follow the blur of his shoulders. He cut between the sharp teeth, narrowly avoiding getting bit, before hauling one of the werewolves sideways—clear of the blow it had been about to receive from the other.
With both of them finally broken apart, I blanched.
Not at the blood spilling from them both, but because I knew these wolves. Both of them. I just couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
“Charlie?” I stared at the brown wolf Owen hovered near and realized Owen wasn’t attacking her; he’d been protecting her from the other one.
“Lane?” Dad asked, shouldering his way through the crowd until he stood shoulder to shoulder with me—towering directly over of the black wolf that was Lane. Blaine Rossi was right beside him and Sheridan close behind them. Dad’s mouth had thinned, but he didn’t look nearly as shocked as I felt. Only disappointed. Sheridan and I exchanged a glance and her mouth thinned.
