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  Meanwhile, Aunt May was shrinking in upon herself now that she’d lost her knife. This altercation needed to end, and fast.

  I leapt forward, pressing between Aunt May and Blondie. My sword gleamed in a ray of sunlight as I swung it in a figure-eight that threatened man and wolf alike.

  No wonder the black wolf swore. Or, rather, the man he’d become swore as he joined his blond companion two-legged.

  This shifter was similar enough to the other that I guessed they were brothers. His hair, however, was raven-dark and curly like Luke’s.

  “You could just give us a token.” Raven-hair was petulant but fast. His hand clasped around my wrist before I had time to dance sideways. My sword spun end over end to land in the bushes as the railing cut into my back.

  Something sharp speared into the base of my thumb as I grabbed behind me, struggling to regain my balance. But I ignored the pain. Twisted to punch at Raven-hair...only to alter my trajectory at the last moment when Blondie’s penknife swiped so close to my face that my eyes teared up.

  Was this how Ruth and Aunt May had ended up scarred so badly? For a split second, I froze, seeing the red line on my sister’s face, remembering the way I’d failed her in the most recent battle I’d taken part in.

  And that hesitation was all Blondie needed to change his trajectory and get what he’d come for. Not a cut to my face. Instead, a lock of my hair drifted down toward the floor of the porch.

  “Of course, taking tokens is more fun.” Blondie’s teeth flashed lupine for one split second as he grinned in triumph. Then he discarded the pocketknife, body blocked Raven-hair, and lunged for my lost curl.

  This battle made less and less sense the longer it lasted. But if they wanted my hair, then I wanted it also.

  I pounced upon the falling keratin. Blondie’s knife was close, but I ignored it. Instead, I swept the lock up into a cloud of spinning hairs that sparkled as they burst off the porch and into the sunlight.

  “You bitch.” Raven-hair fell on me like a ton of naked and rather smelly bricks. I bucked, my foot connecting with flesh but making no impact on the skinless’s creeping fingers.

  “Gimme,” he growled, ripping at my pocket.

  “It has to be identifiable!” Blondie called from above us. “You know the rules—”

  His voice gasped to a halt. Raven-hair’s fingers stopped creeping.

  I wriggled out from beneath a frozen skinless to find Luke standing above me, face as grim as I’d ever seen it. He cocked his head, another splutter of syllables erupting inside my head.

  I didn’t catch a single word this time. The connection was useless. I shook my head, trying to relay that fact.

  And all warmth in Luke’s pose hardened. Minutes ago, we’d shared true kisses. Now, he stared at me as if I was a stranger. The words out of his mouth were like daggers.

  “Then why are you still here? Go. Get out of my life.”

  Chapter 6

  “You heard him. She’s not the sword maiden.”

  Ruth’s voice rose from behind me, but all I could see was Luke’s lips. The ones I’d kissed moments earlier, now tight and bloody. As if Luke had morphed into someone else while tearing his father to pieces. As if he’d forgotten our bond. Shed his sheep’s clothing. Turned into a full-fledged wolf.

  Still, he extended a hand, pulling me to my feet as easily as if I was a half-filled grocery bag. His touch left dark smears across my palm.

  “My sister is right,” he said into the eerie silence. On the other side of the railing, dozens of skinless stood frozen, every eye upon us. Some were lupine, others human. Most had blood somewhere on their skin.

  “Ruth is the sword maiden,” Luke continued. “Think I’m doing a bad job? Think you’re strong enough to win an Alpha’s Hunt? Then you’ll need six tokens from my sister.” His lips turned up into a smirk I wouldn’t have been able to imagine on his face yesterday. “Good luck with that.”

  Luke turned away from the crowd then to face the two males who’d fought over my hair. Both had ended up on the ground at our feet, and they now appeared to be trying to sink through the gravel and escape.

  “Stand up,” Luke growled.

  I thought the words were inside my head at first, they reverberated so powerfully. But, no, his lips had moved...and they moved Raven-hair and Blondie also. The duo rose jerkily, as if they were puppets being manipulated by an unskilled puppet master. Their heads hung. Their gazes remained glued on their feet.

  “Luke, dear.” Aunt May stepped up beside me, still entirely naked but somehow far more human than the rest of the skinless. “You know this is only a game.”

  “A game?” He reached out to take my throbbing left hand in his right, the gentleness of his touch contrasting with the sharpness of his tone. Turning over my wrist, he exposed the inch-long splinter jabbed into the base of my thumb. “Does this look like play to you?”

  A flicker of movement off to my right materialized into Ruth straightening out of the bushes with my sword in her hand. She met my eyes, and for one split second I almost caught a hint of words in my mind again. Not from Ruth. No, this was another whisper in Luke’s baritone about danger and caution. Playing it cool. Backing down.

  But that didn’t make sense. He was the epitome of a hot-headed skinless at the moment. Tension radiated off his shoulders. Clearly, whatever connection we’d shared earlier had turned staticky and broken, his messages mutating unrecognizably before they reached my mind.

  Still, I didn’t care to see another person torn to shreds in front of me, particularly not someone who started the dismemberment process still alive. So I bent my head and took the splinter between my teeth, ignoring the searing pain as I ripped the wooden sliver out and spat it onto the porch floor between us.

  Shrugging, I raised my voice until all of the skinless could hear me. “No harm, no foul.”

  It had been the right move. I knew the instant I turned back toward Luke. Saw the playful sparkle in his eyes, the tiniest twitch of his lips. For half a second, he looked like the Luke I knew. The one who’d made me doubt my childhood fear of skinless.

  Then Ruth was there beside him, my sword appearing far more dangerous in her hand than it had in mine. Brother and sister were a matched pair. The gaze that flicked between them relayed shared understanding.

  She raised an eyebrow; he nodded nearly imperceptibly. Luke was letting Ruth deal with it. And deal with it she did.

  Piercing blue eyes speared Blondie first, then Raven-hair. “Victor. Easton. You’re in luck. I’m in a good mood...this time. But remember, I only give one warning. After this, infighting not preceded by a formal challenge is punishable by death.”

  VICTOR AND EASTON FLED like mice released from a cat’s paw. Tumbling down the stairs, they were soon lost in the crowd.

  And...Luke followed them. Didn’t so much as glance back at me when he told Ruth, “Get her out of here. Tonight is for pack only.”

  I ignored the hard clench in my belly. I’d been through this once already. I could doubt Luke or I could trust him.

  I chose to trust.

  So I didn’t argue as Aunt May and Ruth hustled me into the cabin, out the back door, then the long way around to Luke’s vehicle—the only car here at Wolf Camp. There, however, I dug in my heels.

  Alpha’s Hunt...sword maiden...choice...danger. Luke’s words lingered in my mind. He’d been trying to tell me something, but the explanation had gotten lost in the air between us. Good thing I had one last chance to drag information out of skinless mouths.

  “Tell me,” I demanded of both Aunt May and Ruth, “more about this game.”

  That air was now filled with birdsong and katydids. We were far enough from the pack so nature had reasserted its summery tranquility. I forced tensed muscles to relax as I waited out Ruth’s impatience. As I’d known she would, Ruth caved before I did.

  Sighing, she opened the car door. “Get in and we’ll spill.”

  I smiled as I tossed my duffel onto
the back seat then slid behind the wheel. Ruth added my sword to the pile of possessions then glanced sideways at Aunt May. After another long moment, the old woman nodded and took the lead.

  “My grandfather started it. Or maybe my grandmother.” She cocked her head.” I think it was probably her.”

  Ruth’s impatience materialized as an attempted door slam, but I staved off her interruption by sticking my foot into the gap. When the physical approach didn’t work, she hurried us along with words instead. “This isn’t a bedtime story, Aunt May. Tell it straight.” A pause, then “Please” added as if it had been dragged out of her mouth.

  “The short version then,” Aunt May agreed, although she kept her blue eyes trained on me and didn’t ditch the poetry. “Imagine twenty wet cats in one small bag, dear. They claw and bite and tear until there’s only one left. Or maybe they all die. That’s what our clan was like before the Alpha’s Hunt became an option. Our bloodline is more powerful than average, but that means nothing if we can’t unite.”

  Ruth spoke next, presumably to me although her head was turned to peer back over her shoulder. “You know this already, Honor. If the pack leader and heir aren’t fully accepted, the backbiters tear into a sword maiden.”

  Aunt May crinkled up her nose at the word “tear,” then proceeded to soften Ruth’s pronouncement. “It’s just a way for malcontents to blow off steam. The sword maiden is safe enough because she’s female. Not eligible to be alpha. Not kosher to kill.”

  Ruth snorted, turning to speak directly to her great-aunt. “Safe enough? You think these scars made themselves?”

  “It was your choice to accept the role, dear, just like it was mine in your grandfather’s time.”

  Their family dynamic was interesting, but we were getting too far afield. “And the Alpha’s Hunt?” I nudged.

  Ruth’s willingness to chew the fat faded so fast I wasn’t able to counter her actions. She jerked the car door all the way open, kicked my leg back inside where it belonged, then slammed the door shut the way she’d attempted the first time around.

  Only once I was contained did she spit out an answer. “There will be no Alpha’s Hunt. Wash your neck and your part in this will be over. The pack was confused, that’s all.”

  I was dismissed. I turned the key in the ignition...but Aunt May wasn’t done with me quite yet.

  “Not the way I see it.” The old woman smiled and I got the distinct impression she approved of me, even if Ruth didn’t. “Luke bit her. She stood up to the pack for him.” Aunt May shrugged. “My grandsons weren’t wrong.”

  Warmth spread like an ember sparking to life in my belly...until Ruth summarily stamped the incipient fire out. “Then he sent her away. To prevent having to kill your cocky grandsons when Honor loses all six tokens and half the pack unites against their alpha. An Alpha’s Hunt is a bloodbath with no winners, only losers. Don’t forget that.”

  Luke’s sister turned to face me then, the redness in her cheeks bringing her scars into stark contrast. “I won’t let a little pack uneasiness devolve into all-out battle,” she hissed just barely loud enough for me to hear her. “And that’s what the Alpha’s Hunt would be. Luke would die. Or all of the doubters would die. That’s what having you as sword maiden would accomplish.”

  “Someone’s coming,” Aunt May interrupted. For a split second I felt as light as the old alpha’s ear when it fluttered up onto the rooftop.

  Then Ruth squashed my enthusiasm. “Not Luke. Wash your neck. Don’t come back here.”

  Without waiting for an answer, she bent down upon herself until she was four-legged. A harsh bark prompted Aunt May to join her. Then both of the scar-covered skinless were gone.

  Chapter 7

  There was nothing to do but obey Luke’s wishes. If the only way I could help was by disappearing, then I’d disappear in earnest. So I fled north and east, hundreds of miles away until I reached the closest thing I had to a home.

  The apartment complex where my family was denning. New York City. The last place skinless would look for a missing wolf.

  Which is why I woke, four months later, to the thunk of a throwing knife hitting its target. Ten seconds, then the sound reasserted itself, louder and closer.

  If there hadn’t been a wall between us, the blade would have flown straight and true...into the side of my head.

  Rather than reacting, I curled into the scent of cinnamon that emanated from the crook between my neck and shoulder. I hadn’t washed the wound, and I was glad of that omission. Because, when caught between sleep and waking, the scent intensified. I could almost imagine I was there with Luke...or rather, there inside Luke’s head the way I’d been yesterday and the day before and the day before that.

  I didn’t get to enjoy every moment of his life, of course. Just whatever tidbits were being cemented—I guessed—into Luke’s long-term memory while he slept.

  This morning, the dream-vision involved Michael snarling at a girl six inches taller but not much older. “Don’t call me that!” Luke’s brother was furious. It probably didn’t help that he had to tilt his head back to look the girl in the eyes.

  “But you are my Uncle Mikey.” The girl fluttered short eyelashes. “Aren’t you?”

  “I’m your uncle, but not....” The boy tripped over his words before stuttering to a halt.

  “Carly, don’t tease him.” My hand—Luke’s hand—came down on Michael’s shoulder. “Michael, one of these days you’ll learn that what she’s trying to say is ‘I love you.’ Right, Carly?”

  Carly hadn’t known Luke was present. I realized that when she shriveled in on herself, her eyes flying to the dirt. “Yes, sir.”

  Luke’s disappointment was visceral. He’d meant to treat his niece to a small dose of her own medicine, not to overpower her. He took a step back...and the next knife’s thunk pulled me all the way awake.

  Awake to the ever-present sound of New York City traffic. Unlike the green and red and brown of Luke’s habitat, Justice’s apartment was gray from reflected streetlights. On the other side of the wall, my furious sister let fly yet another knife.

  I rubbed grit out of the corners of my eyelids. Stretched and started my morning. “I get it, Grace.”

  “Do you?” She spoke normally, knowing I would hear her through the paper-thin walls that separated the apartment she shared with Bastion from the one I shared with Justice.

  “I’m no longer part of your family. You want me out of your building, out of your city, out of your turf,” I confirmed while yanking on jeans and dragging a brush through my curls.

  “Bastion is yours. Justice is mine,” I continued. “Never mind that neither of them belongs to anyone except themselves.” For someone who lacked her pelt and thus couldn’t turn lupine, Grace had an extremely territorial bent.

  “But,” I continued, lacing up leather boots that were high enough to hide slender knives while also protecting my ankles during foot chases, “someone needs to make money. New York City is good hunting. It’s expensive sending out feelers for lost pelts.”

  Because everyone in my family except me had lost their pelts when I was a child—my fault, and something I’d since come to terms with. Still, when we regained Bastion’s pelt last summer, I learned that the killer’s mother had bought the shed skin during an estate sale.

  Justice and Grace’s pelts might be equally accessible. I just needed to hire enough private investigators and buy up enough animal skins to track down the missing items. An expensive proposition, but one I’d focused on with a vengeance once Luke kicked me out of his life.

  “My pelt is none of your business,” Grace snarled. Another knife flew, the words following it yet sharper. “Does your hero complex allow you to drop the issue?”

  “Justice’s pelt is my business,” I countered. Speaking of which....

  “Are you awake?” I asked the dark shape nestled down in his sleeping bag three feet away from me. The clock read 5:13—only seventeen minutes before my alarm would h
ave woken me if my twin hadn’t decided to practice her marksmanship before going to bed.

  “No,” Justice grunted. Like Grace, my cousin considered this the end of a long day rather than the beginning of the next one. Until this past summer, he would have kept similar hours to my sister—minus the passive-aggressive knives.

  But he’d chosen to den with me, and I was very much a morning person. Which meant that Justice had begun falling into slumber early and dragging himself out of bed when I awoke.

  That was the thing about woelfin. We didn’t have one designated leader, so we shifted our habits to match each others’ lives.

  Maybe not today, however. “I’m gonna practice, then head out,” I warned my cousin. “If you want to join me, I’ll be in the hall.”

  As usual, Justice pulled the hood of the sleeping bag up over his head and declined to answer. Also as usual, I gathered up my gear and left him to his stolen sleep.

  OPENING THE DOOR, I stepped out into the dim light of an interior hallway. Our third-floor walkup had a landing running the length of the floor, leading from the down staircase to the up staircase. It was a public space, somewhere even Grace couldn’t growl about me and Bastion interacting. Plus, it was the only area inside our apartment building where I had room to draw my sword.

  Which is exactly what I did. Clearing my mind, I worked my way through my usual morning practice. My muscles warmed and loosened, the scent of spice emanating from the scar in the crook of my shoulder warming also.

  All the while, I ignored the gaze boring into the back of my skull.

  Only when the piercing shriek of an alarm clock rolled out of my apartment did I turn and accept the mug Bastion held out to me. We were no longer members of the same family—Grace had seen to that. Still, the cousin I’d spent the last decade partnered with sank down on the top step in perfect synchrony with me. Together, we cradled the hot tea he’d provided while he asked his usual question.