Trial by Fire
Page 42
Lake could do this. She could.
I wanted to believe it. I wanted to tell myself that Lake really was that good, and that I wouldn’t have been any kind of friend at all if I’d kept her from trying, but I couldn’t, because despite everything we’d been through together, despite what she and the others had done for me the night before, I couldn’t shake the feeling building up inside me, the one that said that I was supposed to be protecting her.
“Take me instead.” My voice was low and guttural—a foreign thing in my own throat.
“Excuse me?” Shay raised one eyebrow, and for a single second, he looked so much like Devon that it hurt to look at him.
“The game hasn’t started yet. You can still change the stakes.” I ignored the low rumble of the others inside my head.
I ignored Chase, who’d gone ashen beside me, the unreadable look on his face masking the flash of horror and denial I could feel through the bond.
“Are you suggesting that if I win, you’ll abdicate the rule of your pack to your second-in-command and willingly transfer into mine?” Shay sounded vaguely amused. I thought of everything he could do to me, everything he would do to me, and then I nodded, unwilling to let myself feel even the smallest bit of fear.
Unwilling to let him smell it.
“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting.”
Devon could take care of the pack once I was gone, he could be their alpha, and I could put my life on the line to save Lake.
Shay’s face hardened, amusement morphing into something darker. I recognized the emotion from places in my memory I didn’t want to go. The blood, the screams, my human parents. The smell of mildew and bleach as I backed myself farther and farther under the kitchen sink. Even dead, the Rabid still haunted my dreams, and I knew that Shay wanted that. He wanted me to cower, wanted to wear my blood and taste my human screams.
“You think highly of yourself,” he said, his eyes pulsing with bloodlust, and the muscles in his jaw tense with the effort it took to fight it back. “But at the end of the day, you’re human. You’re frail, you’re weak, you’re breakable. You’re meat. This one …” Shay turned to look at Lake, and through the bond, I felt her conflicting desires to lash out and shrink back from his gaze. “This one is strong.”
Shay didn’t come right out and say that Lake would make a good incubator for his future children, but he might as well have, and no matter what I did, I couldn’t shake the image of Lake running, running, running and never getting far enough away.
Bryn, if we lose, I’m going with her. Dev met my eyes from across the room as the silent words passed from his mind to mine. If I’d been capable of feeling anything other than the animal need to answer Shay’s innuendos with fury and blood, I might have taken a moment to consider what it would mean to lose Devon and Lake at the same time.
What it meant that he would leave me to go with her.
Instead, I gritted my teeth and nodded. If we lose, Dev, I want you to go.
Shay flicked his eyes from Devon’s to mine, unable to hear our words, but aware that something had passed unspoken between us.
“So the stakes aren’t changing.” Lake tossed her hair over one shoulder and twirled the pool cue absentmindedly in her hand. “Now that we’ve got that over with, you want to break, Shay, or should I?”
Lake threw out the challenge, looking cocky and young and like the type of person who would rush into a bet like this one without thinking things through, but I knew better. Her bravado was a familiar mask, a special brand of fearlessness that she could put on at the drop of a hat.
She was smart. She was strong. She could do this. I repeated that to myself over and over again.
“You can break.” Shay walked past her and picked up the longest pool cue, twirling it lightly. “I spent most of the fifties in pool halls. If I broke, you’d never even get the chance to shoot.”
Shay might as well have taken a page out of Caroline’s book and pronounced himself incapable of missing a shot.
Unperturbed, Lake racked up the balls and walked the perimeter of the table, her hips swinging with forced carelessness, her eyes registering every angle, every contour, every ball. She placed the cue ball just to the left of the table’s center and leaned over, lining up her first shot. Numbness worked its way up my body, inch by inch.
Lake relaxed her grip on her stick.
Shay smiled.
And then she took her first shot.
The cue ball ricocheted off its target, and the rest shot outward, like an explosion had gone off at their core.
I felt, rather than saw, the first ball drop into one of the center pockets, and I forced myself to breathe.
There were too many of us in this room. There was too much riding on this moment, and it went against every instinct I had—as an alpha, as their friend, as a person who knew what it meant to fight for survival every second of every day—to just stand there, watching and willing Lake to sink one ball after another after another.
It hurt to hope.
It hurt to breathe.
Lake moved around the table with the precision of a surgeon, mid-operation, and the more shots she took, the closer the mask of fearlessness on her face came to slipping.
She wanted this.
She was fighting.
She was scared.
I ground my fingernails into the palm of my hand until red half-moons dotted my skin. I couldn’t feel the pain, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but wait for Lake to sink the next ball.
And then she missed.
With a sickening grin, Shay leaned down to the table, lined up his shot, and sent two balls ricocheting into opposite pockets with the ease of a pro. He worked his way around the table, shot after shot after shot.
I could feel Lake on the other side of the pack-bond, feel her insides shattering like glass as she tried so hard not to be scared. Seeing the bravado on her face nearly brought me to my knees.
Shay only had three balls left.
Then two.
Then one.
I knew then that I never should have let Lake risk it, never should have put her in a position where a game of pool could cost her everything, everything.
It’s going to be okay, Bryn. Whatever happens, it’ll be okay. Chase met my eyes, and for the first time in memory, I felt like I was looking at a stranger. If Shay won, if he took Lake, nothing would be okay. Not now, not ever. If Chase didn’t understand that, he didn’t understand me.
“Call your pocket.” Lake’s voice was steady, and she thrust her chin out, like she could make him miss by sheer force of will.
“Back left corner.”
My eyes went immediately to the pocket in question. If Shay made this shot, he’d win—the bet, Lake …
I saw the eight ball hit the corner of the pocket. Saw it hover there. Saw it fall in.
Protect. Protect. Survive.
As my Resilience rose up inside me, I could barely make out the world around me. I could barely see Lake, shutting down and shutting out the fear. I could barely see Shay, moving slowly toward her from one side, or Devon, cutting across the room from the other.
But I did see the cue ball as it bounced off one corner and rolled slowly toward another. My eyes tracked its progression, my fight-or-flight instinct taking control of my body even as they did.
Survive. Survive. Survive.
An instant before I completely lost it and gave in to the desire to do to Shay what I had done to the psychics on the street, the cue ball disappeared off the table, falling into one of the side pockets. Something gave inside me, and the blood-red haze began to fade.
Shay had just scratched.
On most shots, it wouldn’t have mattered all that much, but I was familiar enough with pool to know that scratching on the eight ball meant forfeiting the game.
Shay had lost.
I was still trying to process this when Shay froze in his stride toward Lake.
Devon turned back toward the table. Lake grinned.
“Well,” she drawled, setting her own stick down, “that has to hurt.”
Lake had always been a horrible winner, and it took me a moment to find the naked, vulnerable relief underneath her gloating.
Shay scratched, I thought, letting myself believe it this time. He lost.
Beside me, I felt Chase reaching out, on the verge of saying something through the bond, but he must have decided against it, must have known how I would have taken it, because all there was between us was silence.
I wanted to believe it. I wanted to tell myself that Lake really was that good, and that I wouldn’t have been any kind of friend at all if I’d kept her from trying, but I couldn’t, because despite everything we’d been through together, despite what she and the others had done for me the night before, I couldn’t shake the feeling building up inside me, the one that said that I was supposed to be protecting her.
“Take me instead.” My voice was low and guttural—a foreign thing in my own throat.
“Excuse me?” Shay raised one eyebrow, and for a single second, he looked so much like Devon that it hurt to look at him.
“The game hasn’t started yet. You can still change the stakes.” I ignored the low rumble of the others inside my head.
I ignored Chase, who’d gone ashen beside me, the unreadable look on his face masking the flash of horror and denial I could feel through the bond.
“Are you suggesting that if I win, you’ll abdicate the rule of your pack to your second-in-command and willingly transfer into mine?” Shay sounded vaguely amused. I thought of everything he could do to me, everything he would do to me, and then I nodded, unwilling to let myself feel even the smallest bit of fear.
Unwilling to let him smell it.
“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting.”
Devon could take care of the pack once I was gone, he could be their alpha, and I could put my life on the line to save Lake.
Shay’s face hardened, amusement morphing into something darker. I recognized the emotion from places in my memory I didn’t want to go. The blood, the screams, my human parents. The smell of mildew and bleach as I backed myself farther and farther under the kitchen sink. Even dead, the Rabid still haunted my dreams, and I knew that Shay wanted that. He wanted me to cower, wanted to wear my blood and taste my human screams.
“You think highly of yourself,” he said, his eyes pulsing with bloodlust, and the muscles in his jaw tense with the effort it took to fight it back. “But at the end of the day, you’re human. You’re frail, you’re weak, you’re breakable. You’re meat. This one …” Shay turned to look at Lake, and through the bond, I felt her conflicting desires to lash out and shrink back from his gaze. “This one is strong.”
Shay didn’t come right out and say that Lake would make a good incubator for his future children, but he might as well have, and no matter what I did, I couldn’t shake the image of Lake running, running, running and never getting far enough away.
Bryn, if we lose, I’m going with her. Dev met my eyes from across the room as the silent words passed from his mind to mine. If I’d been capable of feeling anything other than the animal need to answer Shay’s innuendos with fury and blood, I might have taken a moment to consider what it would mean to lose Devon and Lake at the same time.
What it meant that he would leave me to go with her.
Instead, I gritted my teeth and nodded. If we lose, Dev, I want you to go.
Shay flicked his eyes from Devon’s to mine, unable to hear our words, but aware that something had passed unspoken between us.
“So the stakes aren’t changing.” Lake tossed her hair over one shoulder and twirled the pool cue absentmindedly in her hand. “Now that we’ve got that over with, you want to break, Shay, or should I?”
Lake threw out the challenge, looking cocky and young and like the type of person who would rush into a bet like this one without thinking things through, but I knew better. Her bravado was a familiar mask, a special brand of fearlessness that she could put on at the drop of a hat.
She was smart. She was strong. She could do this. I repeated that to myself over and over again.
“You can break.” Shay walked past her and picked up the longest pool cue, twirling it lightly. “I spent most of the fifties in pool halls. If I broke, you’d never even get the chance to shoot.”
Shay might as well have taken a page out of Caroline’s book and pronounced himself incapable of missing a shot.
Unperturbed, Lake racked up the balls and walked the perimeter of the table, her hips swinging with forced carelessness, her eyes registering every angle, every contour, every ball. She placed the cue ball just to the left of the table’s center and leaned over, lining up her first shot. Numbness worked its way up my body, inch by inch.
Lake relaxed her grip on her stick.
Shay smiled.
And then she took her first shot.
The cue ball ricocheted off its target, and the rest shot outward, like an explosion had gone off at their core.
I felt, rather than saw, the first ball drop into one of the center pockets, and I forced myself to breathe.
There were too many of us in this room. There was too much riding on this moment, and it went against every instinct I had—as an alpha, as their friend, as a person who knew what it meant to fight for survival every second of every day—to just stand there, watching and willing Lake to sink one ball after another after another.
It hurt to hope.
It hurt to breathe.
Lake moved around the table with the precision of a surgeon, mid-operation, and the more shots she took, the closer the mask of fearlessness on her face came to slipping.
She wanted this.
She was fighting.
She was scared.
I ground my fingernails into the palm of my hand until red half-moons dotted my skin. I couldn’t feel the pain, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but wait for Lake to sink the next ball.
And then she missed.
With a sickening grin, Shay leaned down to the table, lined up his shot, and sent two balls ricocheting into opposite pockets with the ease of a pro. He worked his way around the table, shot after shot after shot.
I could feel Lake on the other side of the pack-bond, feel her insides shattering like glass as she tried so hard not to be scared. Seeing the bravado on her face nearly brought me to my knees.
Shay only had three balls left.
Then two.
Then one.
I knew then that I never should have let Lake risk it, never should have put her in a position where a game of pool could cost her everything, everything.
It’s going to be okay, Bryn. Whatever happens, it’ll be okay. Chase met my eyes, and for the first time in memory, I felt like I was looking at a stranger. If Shay won, if he took Lake, nothing would be okay. Not now, not ever. If Chase didn’t understand that, he didn’t understand me.
“Call your pocket.” Lake’s voice was steady, and she thrust her chin out, like she could make him miss by sheer force of will.
“Back left corner.”
My eyes went immediately to the pocket in question. If Shay made this shot, he’d win—the bet, Lake …
I saw the eight ball hit the corner of the pocket. Saw it hover there. Saw it fall in.
Protect. Protect. Survive.
As my Resilience rose up inside me, I could barely make out the world around me. I could barely see Lake, shutting down and shutting out the fear. I could barely see Shay, moving slowly toward her from one side, or Devon, cutting across the room from the other.
But I did see the cue ball as it bounced off one corner and rolled slowly toward another. My eyes tracked its progression, my fight-or-flight instinct taking control of my body even as they did.
Survive. Survive. Survive.
An instant before I completely lost it and gave in to the desire to do to Shay what I had done to the psychics on the street, the cue ball disappeared off the table, falling into one of the side pockets. Something gave inside me, and the blood-red haze began to fade.
Shay had just scratched.
On most shots, it wouldn’t have mattered all that much, but I was familiar enough with pool to know that scratching on the eight ball meant forfeiting the game.
Shay had lost.
I was still trying to process this when Shay froze in his stride toward Lake.
Devon turned back toward the table. Lake grinned.
“Well,” she drawled, setting her own stick down, “that has to hurt.”
Lake had always been a horrible winner, and it took me a moment to find the naked, vulnerable relief underneath her gloating.
Shay scratched, I thought, letting myself believe it this time. He lost.
Beside me, I felt Chase reaching out, on the verge of saying something through the bond, but he must have decided against it, must have known how I would have taken it, because all there was between us was silence.
