Page 86 of Soulmates
Abby’s wolf bows, showing him respect, and heads for the stands. I can’t speak, but I manage a nod. Dad is not going to fight my battle—I know him too well to ever think that—but he’s here, and he’ll have my back.
As long as I can shift.
For one long moment, doubt tries to undermine my self-confidence, but I force it back. Ihaveto do this. I’ve shifted back and forth multiple times in a day. Surely I can manage one shift here.
A flash of light from across the ring tells me Brendan and his second have found their wolves. Dad looks at me, expectant, while I make a production of removing the duster and then my boots. I unwrap the scarf and lay it over the duster.
This is it. The moment. Now or never.
Trajan comes up behind me and puts a hand on my shoulder. Connor does the same. The feel of them, the vampire’s cool touch and Connor’s warmer one, ground me. I shut my eyes and call to my wolf.
I don’t care how scared you are. We’re doing this.
I open myself to the wolf, at the same time reaching for the bonds of pack to hold myself secure. The bonds are there, thinner, less profuse than they’d once been, but they are there. I grab my metaphysical ’nads and let go so the wolf can take over.
I shift.
It’s not as fast or as fluid as I used to be, and it hurts like holy hell, but for the first time in over a month, my wolf is free.
My first move is to show my father respect, and then…and then…I look right at Uncle Brendan. His wolf isn’t as big as mine, but he’s husky, with a notch in one ear from an old fight. He’s ready, and it’s too late for me to be scared.
Let’s go.
OXO
Connor…
David’s wolf surpasses anything in my imagination. Huge, dark, and powerful, he struts around the ring, giving everyone a show. His uncle watches, evidently waiting for David to come to him. David may well make the opening salvo. It would be like him to try a killing blow on his first thrust.
Randolph Collins sits quietly, as watchful as his brother, but bleeding power. He has a lot at stake here, and I can’t help but wonder if he’ll jump in if things go badly for David. Not that I think they will.
Across the ring, Brendan’s second is having trouble keeping his nerves in check. When David gives a short, sharp bark, the younger wolf jerks like he’s been shot. I’m reassured by that. When David gets his uncle in trouble, this youngster won’t join in.
For extra insurance, there are members of the Elites stationed at intervals in the crowd. No one knows this but me; not Trajan nor David nor anyone else who’s involved. I’m on damned thin ice with the organization, and getting them here meant I cashed in the rest of my chips. The Elites don’t get involved in pack politics, but between pulling David out of the fire in DC and the potential for an inter-supe war, they have a stake.
Over the last few days, David and I spent quite a bit of time talking about how wolves hunt, how they fight, and how they kill. It was all I could offer; he’ll fight this battle alone.
So we talked wolf. They say that older wolves are better fighters because of their experience. Tonight, it’s clear David hasn’t been listening. There’s no hint of submission in his posture; if anything, he’s calling his uncle out, mocking him, daring him to make a move.
Trajan’s standing next to me, arms crossed, stiff with tension. I trace the road that brought us to this point, losing Traj, reconnecting, finding David. I’ve made mistakes—moshiorghráforgive me—and despite them, I’ve found something more valuable than I’d ever imagined. On our own, Trajan and I were two halves of a whole. Adding David has made us all richer. We didn’t set out to find a third, but now that we have him, we’re keeping him.
We just need David to win this thing.
I swear David’s wolf is laughing at his uncle, who still hasn’t moved. In the wild, wolves hunt in packs to drive intruding wolves from their territory or to chase down game. Weres are different. Like wild wolves, they don’t have the anatomic ability to rotate their paws and use their claws to fight, but weres have more in their repertoire than snapping an opponent’s tendons so they can’t run.
I’m not sure what Brendan is playing at. He might intend to draw David in, then take a swing at him. David’s dancing just outside his uncle’s reach. Teasing him. Darting in. Leaping away. Brendan’s lack of response is making David look like a youngster who’s teasing their elder.
That must be his strategy. Make David look bad so the rest of the weres blame David for calling his uncle out. David’s expression shifts, as if he’s realized the same thing. The next time he swoops in, he goes for the throat.
Brendan jerks aside, and David snaps his jaws on his uncle’s snout. It’s not a killing blow, though if his uncle had slower reflexes, it might have been. David’s drawn blood, and it brings Brendan to his feet.
The older wolf shakes his head, sending up a spray of red. David is waiting in the center of the ring, poised to leap in either direction. With no preamble, Brendan lunges, striking as fast as a snake. David’s wolf whirls, somehow managing to evade Brendan and tag his uncle’s haunch at the same time.
They pace each other, circling the ring. David’s upright tail and the angle of his head show that nothing his uncle has done has shaken his confidence. Brendan snaps and snarls in a way that might be threatening if his opponent moved with less assurance.
David leaps at his uncle, and the two engage. Teeth flash, and more blood sprays. One of them yelps.
Brendan breaks free.
