Page 2 of Kiss of Embers

I let my wolf surge to the surface. My fangs punched down, and my voice went deeper as I met Alix’s gaze. “If you want to challenge me, be a man and do it with honor. Don’t embarrass yourself by whispering over your kinsman’s grave like a coward.”

For a moment, the threat of violence sizzled in the air. My wolf growled in my mind, and the sound vibrated my throat before spilling from between my lips. Power pumped in sync with my heart, each beat sending my wolf’s aggression spiraling higher. One of the gravediggers swayed on his feet, clearly fighting the urge to kneel. Behind him, a handful of mourners did the same. Finally, Alix released his sword.

“I make no challenge,” he said, lowering his eyes. “Nor do any gathered here.” His mouth worked like he chewed something bitter. “Alpha,” he added.

Silence stretched, the only sounds the patter of rain and the sigh of the trees as a crisp October wind moved through the forest.

“Good,” I said. After another beat of silence, I met Serge’s stare. “Finish the ceremony.”

Serge inclined his head, the black tattoos under his eyes descending like two narrow knife blades. “It will be done, Alpha.”

I turned and stalked away from the clearing. The stares of the mourners bored into my back. Leaves crunched, and the ground trembled as Drute fell into step beside me. I waited until we rounded a bend before speaking.

“Alix will be trouble.”

Drute snorted. “He won’t. His mouth is a lot bigger than his brain.”

I glanced at my father’s advisor—and now mine. “You’re certain? He looked like he’s been thinking of using that sword for a while.”

Drute stopped. He stared down the path we’d just walked, his angular features thoughtful in his grayish face. Around us, the thick Maine forest hid the pack’s territory from human eyes. Perhaps more importantly, it hid Drute. Like the demons, gargoyles hailed from another plane, where they didn’t need to blend into human society. At seven feet tall, Drute’s height already made him stand out. His wings, gray skin, and double axe blade tail put him firmly in “monstrous” territory.

“I’m certain,” Drute said. He turned back to me with dark, serious eyes. “Alix is too weak to challenge you and too stupid to orchestrate a coup. Like many in the pack, he’s more frightenedthan angry. I promise he’s the least of your—” Drute snapped his mouth shut as he jerked his gaze to a spot over my shoulder.

I turned, and irritation flared in my chest at the sight of Brader Ashcroft moving toward us. “Problems,” I said under my breath.

Even at a distance, it was easy to see why women swooned over Brader. Like all werewolves, he was tall and built like an athlete. But he also possessed movie star good looks. His blond hair was arranged in thick, stylish waves. His cheekbones angled into a square jaw with the perfect amount of golden stubble, and his eyes were the color of a summer sky. After an hour in the rain, I probably looked like a drowned rat with my hair plastered to my head. Brader’s hair was artfully damp, as if he’d just stepped from a salon. At a touch over three hundred years old, he was past the age when most wolves stopped waiting for fate to deliver the perfect mate. And yet, Brader remained unmated.

But everyone knew he had a particular mate in mind.

“Hello, Brader,” I called. “What brings you to Rockford Territory?” Beside me, Drute stirred, and I sensed rather than saw him frown at the hard edge in my tone. Well, too bad. Brader had grown far too casual about entering my lands. Customs were customs, and even alphas requested permission before crossing territorial boundaries. The next time I met with the pack elders, I’d have to propose turning custom into law.

Brader offered a crooked smile as he stopped in front of me. “Zara. Drute,” he said by way of acknowledgment. Then he fixed his blue eyes on me. “Sorry to visit unannounced like this. I just came from the house. I was looking for you.”

What else is new?I bit my tongue before the question could slip out. My mother’s voice whispered in my memory, reminding me to be polite. Brader was a pain in the ass, but he was a neighboring alpha. He’d also stood up for me at the last Council meeting when other alphas questioned my ability to lead.

I forced a smile. “Here I am.”

Brader cast a quick look at the forest behind me. “I heard you lost a pack member to moon sickness last night.”

Denying it was pointless. The Ashcroft wolves had been a valuable ally since my grandfather’s time, but there was no question Brader had spies. I couldn’t prove it, but I was certain that expression about keeping your enemies closer originated with werewolves. Besides, every pack in the country—and possibly the rest of the world—knew the Rockford Pack was grappling with moon sickness. My “challenges” as alpha had been the talk of this year’s Council meeting.

“Two nights ago,” I said, humiliation like acid in my gut. “Serge is wrapping up the death ceremony now.”

“My condolences on another loss.”

It was an effort not to grind my molars. “Thank you.”

Brader studied me, a determined glint appearing in his eyes. “Zara?—”

“Is that why you came all the way from Lewiston?” I asked. “To share your condolences?”

Brader looked at Drute. “Could I speak with Zara alone?”

I lifted my chin. “Drute has served the Rockford Pack for nearly five centuries. Anything you have to say to me you can say in front of him.” And the three of us knew exactly what Brader wanted to say. He’d said it often enough over the past year.

He scowled, his sandy brows pulling together. “Fine. Maybe your advisor should hear what you and I both know to be true.” The determined expression in Brader’s eyes intensified. He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “The moon sickness has ravaged your pack and shows no signs of slowing. Your numbers are dwindling. You’re ripe for a takeover. And there is no such thing as a deposed alpha, Zara. Not a living one, anyway. If your enemies decide to make a move, you won’t survive.”

My blood ran cold. Although, Brader told me nothing I didn’t already know. I was well aware of the danger that dogged my steps. Every day, that danger increased. With each death ceremony, rumors about the Rockford Pack spread. Whispers grew louder. The rumors swirled faster, the wordcursefloating on the air.

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