Howling For You

5

St. Bridget’s was gorgeous, a church of fairy tale proportions and fantastical architecture. The building, also located in Ukrainian Village, was constructed of pink-peach stone with turquoise turrets, and the interior was just as colorful, with lots of wood, marble, and inset stone.

Right now, it was the site of vampire-worthy scheming. We’d guessed Tom would take a stand. Instead of trying to keep him out, we’d let him come in, crown in hand. And then we’d take him out.

At Jeff’s suggestion, a small corps of trustworthy shifters took positions outside in the dark, hidden from view but keeping an eye on the church and its access points. If—or when—Tom tried anything, we’d have eyes on him.

The interior of the church would have the same setup. A few friends of the family, all shifters, sat in the pews as if preparing to witness Connor’s initiation. But they were armed and prewarned—and they were as excited as shifters could be about the possibility of a good, solid brawl.

Jeff and I, both dressed in respectful black, stood on the church’s front steps, peering into the darkness. The snow still fell, powdering the neighborhood in white.

“You’re nervous,” Jeff said.

“It’s not every day I use my family as bait.”

“They can handle themselves,” he said. “It’s a good plan.”

“I know. And it was your good plan.”

He nodded, and we stood in silence, so much unspoken between us.

“We should go inside,” Jeff said. I turned to walk into the church, but he took my hand and pulled me against his body. Before I could object, his lips were on mine, mouth insistent.

He kissed me there on the steps of the church, with snow falling like tears around us. When he pulled away a moment later, my breath was short.

“Jeff,” I said, but he shook his head, leaned his forehead against mine.

“Every time I breathe, I breathe for you. Every time I speak, I speak for you. And every time I howl, I howl for you.” He pressed his lips to mine, so softly. “This isn’t over,” he said, and walked inside.

My hands and knees shaking, I followed him.

Gabriel stood in the back of the church with Eli. The rest of my brothers had taken their seats, dressed in suits as if we’d planned to proceed as normal. But Tanya and Connor were secure in an anteroom with Berna and a few of her minions. She didn’t look like much of a threat—squat figure, bleached hair—but she was, as Gabriel liked to say, a wolverine when it came to her family.

“Any sign?” Gabriel asked us.

“Not yet,” Jeff said. “But I have to think he’ll be along soon enough.”

“He’ll be along,” Gabriel said. “If he’s brassy enough to walk away with the crown, he’s brassy enough to try and make the initiation his. Take your positions.”

Jeff nodded and took his place on the other side of the aisle. I walked to the second pew and slid across slick wood to join Ben and Christopher.

Gabriel stepped up to the dais in front of the church and looked out over the shifters who’d come to witness history.

“The Pack exists only because its members allow it. The Keenes rule only because the Pack allows it. My father kept this Pack safe, and we have tried to do the same, to enforce the Pack’s will. We are lucky enough to have given birth to a new generation. To the twelfth generation of Keenes to hold the Pack.” His gaze went cold. “And one way or the other, he will be brought into the Pack in his rightful place.”

The doors burst open, magic rushing inside like water. The crown’s magic was unmistakable. But when I looked back, it wasn’t Tom who wore the coronet.

It was Patrick.

I was too stunned to move, to speak. He’d played me. Played all of us. He’d feigned innocence, pretended shock at Tom’s reaction, and faked interest in me. Fury rose, hot and needle sharp.

“Patrick,” Gabriel said. “I’m disappointed.”

Patrick swaggered forward, the coronet glinting atop his dark hair. “Why? Because someone outsmarted you? Because you’re not the only one who thinks he can run the Pack?”

Gabriel’s expression stayed flat, but his magic had surged forward, filling the air with heat and power. “Because you used people. Because you betrayed your father and your Pack. And because you think any of those things qualify you to be Apex.”

Patrick smiled thinly. “I’m wearing the crown. That’s the only qualification I need.”

“That’s an unfortunately short-sighted view. A leader needs soldiers. Where’s Tom? Or the rest of your family?”

Patrick’s eyes narrowed, but just for a moment. “Tom did his part. He’s done. And my family is irrelevant.”

“Family is never irrelevant,” Gabriel said. “Family is Pack, and Pack is family.”

“Speaking of which,” Patrick said, “where’s yours? No wife? No kid? I guess you can’t have an initiation without a crown.”

“Oh,” Gabriel said, his tone deceptively smooth, “don’t worry yourself, whelp. There will be an initiation yet.” He let out an ear-splitting whistle, and we fell into place. The shifters emerged from the foyer, the balcony, the sanctuary’s hidden wings, surrounding Patrick and the crown.

Patrick’s expression didn’t change. If anything, he looked excited by the challenge. “Twenty to one odds,” he said. “You want to grab five or ten more shifters for yourself to make it even?”

His arrogance was staggering. Is that what he thought made a good Apex? Exaggeration and brute force?

But Gabriel didn’t move. It was Jeff who stepped forward to face down Patrick.

Gabriel smiled. “I’m afraid I’ll have to get in line. Mr. Christopher has dibs on you, my friend.”

“Fallon’s tiger pet? This should be fun.”

Jeff’s eyes were cold and hard. “Not fun so much as incredibly satisfying.” He flexed his fingers menacingly, rolled his shoulders.

“You want to fight like humans?” Patrick asked, mild amusement on his face. He thought he’d lucked out. Thought fighting Jeff’s lean human form would be an easier victory than fighting the tiger.

As if the man was somehow less tenacious, I thought with the smallest hint of a smile.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want you to lose that crown by shifting,” Jeff said. “I think we can take care of this the old fashioned way.”

“I’m game,” Patrick said, motioning him forward.

Jeff didn’t waste any time. Patrick braced himself, turning his body to the side to prepare for Jeff’s onslaught.

“I’ve got a twenty on Jeff,” Ben murmured to Christopher, both of whom sat on the pew in front of me.

“No deal,” Christopher said. “I’m not betting against the house.”

A wise decision. I’d seen Jeff fight before, knew he was a capable soldier. But this battle was about emotion. It was about Gabriel, the Pack, the crown . . . and me.

They began like boxers, circling each other, fists clenched and ready to go. Patrick opted for brute force, tried to land three punches before he realized Jeff was faster. Patrick tried an uppercut, and Jeff used the shot against him, landing a sidekick in on unprotected right.

Patrick spat out a curse, but stayed up. “You’re a tenacious little thing, aren’t you?”

“Your words,” Jeff said, dodging to avoid another jab. “Not mine.” He nailed Patrick with a punch to the stomach that sent him shuffling backward.

But it only incited Patrick’s rage. He balanced himself, surged forward, pulled Jeff to the ground. They grappled, bowled down the aisle, knocking flower stands and hymnals to the ground.

Patrick belted him, a shot across the face that split his lip, sending the scent of blood into the air.

Suddenly struck by fear, I started to rise, but Ben put a hand on mine, shook his head. “Let Jeff handle this.”

Jeff shifted his body weight, rolled Patrick again, ended up on top of him . . . and then punched him square in the face.

Patrick’s eyes fluttered back, and his head bounced on the marble floor with a sick thud.

Chest heaving, Jeff stood up and ripped the coronet from Patrick’s forehead. “I believe that belongs to someone else, you son of a bitch.”

After Patrick was taken away and Jeff got cleaned up, Berna escorted Tanya and Connor into the sanctuary. With Gabriel, they stepped to the front of the church together.

While Tanya held Connor, Gabriel held the coronet, in both palms, as if gauging its weight. The church was utterly silent, all of us waiting for word from our alpha.

After a moment, he looked up at us. “I had a plan of things to say. Things I’ve considered for a very long time. Things I figured I’d eventually say to my sister, or perhaps a daughter. Now, my son. This is just a piece of metal,” he said, holding it up, light glinting off the engravings. “But it is also so much more than that. It’s a reminder of who we are, of the promises we’ve made to each other.”

Gabriel reached out, placed the crown carefully on Connor’s head. It was much too big, but canted backward just managed to stay on.

Connor’s eyes went huge, and he went still, as if stunned by the weight of the crown on his head. Probably a good lesson.

“I hereby initiate Connor Devereaux Keene into the Pack. May he live long, fight fiercely, love well.”

The shifters whooped and yelled their joy, clapping fiercely at the child who stood before them, eyes wide and grinning at the commotion made on his behalf.

Gabriel put an arm around Tanya, pulling her close as the crowd celebrated their family. They were happy, a unit bound by love and magic.

And I felt only sadness. Why couldn’t I have that? A chance at happiness? A chance at love and family? Why did prejudice have to figure into it?

I looked at Jeff, found his gaze on me, eyes wide in understanding.

And there in the pew, in the church of our Pack, he reached for my hand, and I let him take it.

Jeff rose, and when the first wave of shifters who’d offered their congratulations had stepped aside, moved to Gabriel.

“We need to talk.” His voice was quiet, but earnest.

Gabe looked at Jeff, then me. “Why don’t we step into the hallway?”

As we moved from the sanctuary to the classrooms and offices, the grandness of the chapel gave way to utility and function. The hallway smelled of crayons, rubber toys, and fruit punch, the walls dotted with posters, children’s art, and the occasional smudge of finger paint.

We walked into a classroom, and Gabriel closed the door behind us.

The room filled quickly with magic—tense, angry, and ready to boil over.

Jeff swallowed, took a step toward Gabriel. “I love your sister.”

I stared at him. I hadn’t expected him to lead with love.

“Oh?” Gabriel asked. “Do you?”

“You know I do. The whole damn family probably knows I do. Hell, there probably aren’t any supernaturals in the city who don’t know it.”

Gabriel’s eyes stayed cool. “I’m not entirely sure what you expect me to do about that.”

“What I expect? I expect you to stop this potential bullshit so she can be happy.”

“She’s a member of my family, and second in line for the Pack. You both know what that means.” He slid his dangerous gaze toward me. “You know the price.”

I stared at my brother, fury rising for the second time tonight at an arrogant wolf. “Jeff, can you please give us a minute?”

He kept his gaze on me, but paused.

I nodded again, offering reassurance, and he left the room and closed the door behind him. A scream building in my chest, I slowly looked back at my oldest brother.

“I am sick of you trying to control me and my life.”

Gabriel snorted. “Are you of the misguided opinion that you’ve somehow meekly followed orders?”

The snark in his voice rankled, and I had to fist my hands to keep from pummeling him. “The sarcasm isn’t helping.”

“No, it probably isn’t. So how about the truth: You have a role to play, and you know it. Sure, you like spending time with Jeff. He’s a great guy. He’s loyal to the Pack. Always ready to serve. But he’s not a potential. He can’t be.”

I swallowed, mustered my courage. “Then I’m done with potentials.”

Magic spilled into the room, angry and biting like insects. I worked not to flinch.

“Excuse me?” Gabriel asked, very slowly.

It would have been easy to back down. To tuck my tail and slink out of the room, and let things be the way they’d been before. But that left me lonely and dishonest to myself, to Jeff, and to the potentials. So I gathered up my courage, and put it out there.

“I’m done with potentials. I’m not going to meet any more of them. I’m going to date who I want to date, regardless of the type of shifter he is. And I’ll give up my place in the line of succession if that’s what it takes.”

He looked at me, jaw clenched and twitching. “Is this your way of rebelling?”

“Of course not.” It was, of course, but not in the way he meant. It was a rebellion against what we’d been taught, about who I’d been taught to be. But it wasn’t a rebellion for the sake of rebellion. It was about, for the first time, being true to myself.

“I’ve done my part to protect the Pack, the crown. But it’s time to think about my future. I love him.” Tears rose to my eyes at the power of the admission. “He’s the other half of me, and I’ve known that for a long time. But I haven’t admitted it, and that’s not fair to him or me or anyone else.” I paused, looked up at my big brother, and the leader of my Pack. “I’ll give up the Pack for him. Because he’s worth the price. I’ll abdicate.”

Of course Jeff was worth the price. He was the one who’d loved me regardless. The one who’d fought by my side despite the humiliation of potentials and dates. The one who made me laugh at myself, who understood me better than anyone in the world.

It felt like a weight had lifted from my shoulders. My body felt lighter. My soul felt lighter. For the first time in my life, I felt like Fallon. Just Fallon, because he’d given me permission to be myself.

For a long time, he just looked at me. And then one corner of his lip lifted. “Okay.”

I stared at him. “Okay? That’s it?”

“I wasn’t aware you were entertaining other answers.” He tilted up my chin, searched my eyes. “I love you, Fallon. And so do your other brothers. And so did Mom, and so did Pop. You are exactly who you’re supposed to be. No more, no less. And you always will be, whether the coronet is yours or not.”

“What about the Pack?”

“The Pack is the Pack.” Gabe gestured toward the door. “You were in that chapel. They know love. They know respect. That’s the foundation of the Pack. And if you can’t love—if you can’t be brave enough to put love first, even if you have to sacrifice to do it—you do the Pack no service. Cowards do the Pack no service.”

I nodded, but put a hand on his arm. “You aren’t going to tell them now, are you? This is Connor’s night. This can wait.”

He grinned. “Connor won’t remember a single damn thing about tonight. But you’ll remember the look of sheer panic on Eli’s face when we tell him he’s next in line.”

The gleam in my eyes probably wasn’t especially graceful. But he was right. “Oh, yes,” I said. “Tonight is the night.”

We walked back into the room, every shifter in the sanctuary turning to face us. Gabriel put a hand at my back, rubbed supportively.

“There’s news to share,” Gabe said. “Our favorite Keene has made a decision about her future.”

I pushed the words out in a rush, lest I lose the nerve. “I hereby abdicate. Give up my position in the line of succession.” I let my gaze find Jeff, whose eyes had gone fierce. “For love.”

Noise erupted around me. I must have expected anger or disappointment, because their congratulations completely floored me.

Ben picked me up, swung me around the room. “We’ve been waiting for this, sister.”

I looked for Eli, searched his gaze for anger. As the shifter next in line, the decision would affect him most of all. But if I’d added pressure, he certainly didn’t look it.

When Ben released me, I walked to him. “I should have talked to you first—” I began, but he shook his head, put a hand on my shoulder.

“You’re allowed to have a life, Fal. You don’t have to ask me for permission to do that. Or any other yahoo in the room.”

“You’re sure?”

“Without a doubt,” he said, and for the first time, I saw in his eyes that same golden swirl of knowledge that I’d often seen in Gabriel’s. He may never lay claim to the Pack, but if he did, he’d be prepared.

Eli embraced me, kissed the top of my head. “I believe someone’s waiting for you.”

He released me, and I looked in the direction of his gaze.

Jeff stood apart from everyone else, eyes shining with love and face beaming with happiness. I don’t think I’d ever seen him that happy.

He grinned, held out a hand.

I walked to him, biting my lip to hold back a grin that felt like it would have split my face. But he was impatient. He stepped forward, met me in the middle, and cupped my face in his hands.

“I love you, Fallon Keene. I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you. And I will love you every day and night for the rest of my life.”

Tears blossomed. “I love you, too.”

With my family cheering and applauding around us, Jeff Christopher kissed me.

And for the first time, all was right with the world.

He’d made me wait in the living room, and I stood in front of the giant fish tank that stood opposite the picture window, watching clown fish dart back and forth across the water.

When the bedroom door opened, I glanced back. Jeff stood in the doorway in a pair of silk boxers. I’d only seen him naked when we’d shifted, but that meant I wasn’t exactly paying attention to his nakedness.

Jeff may have been lean, but he was well-hewn. He had the body of an endurance athlete, every inch and plane smoothed with muscle.

“My eyes are up here, Fallon.”

I took the admonishment, looked up at him with a grin, and found him smiling back with me.

He held out a hand and beckoned me forward. And I followed him. In the doorway, he kissed me softly, then gestured toward the room.

“Madam, your palace.”

The bed was covered in pink rose petals, and a bottle of champagne was cooling in a sterling silver stand. A woman’s throaty voice crooned softly in the background.

“This is . . . impressive,” I said.

“Just wait.” He turned off the lights, and two dozen candles sprang to life around the room, which now glowed softly.

“Magic?” I wondered.

He grinned. “LEDs. I connected them to a circuit”—he began, but waved off the thought. “It doesn’t matter. The point is, we’re here. And I wanted this to be romantic. Just for us.”

I nodded, but the intimacy in his eyes made me feel suddenly shy.

He took my hand. Squeezed it. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” I said, and looked away to avoid the intimacy in his eyes. But he tipped my chin back to meet him again.

“Honesty between us,” he said. “Just me and you. Okay?”

I looked at him, remembered the trust I’d already put him, and nodded. “Just nervous. It’s me and you—and we’re—well, you know.”

He smiled. “I know. But it’s me and you. And we don’t have a timetable.”

He led me to the bed and tugged the belt on the robe he’d let me borrow. It fell to the ground, revealing the long, black negligee I’d worn beneath it, a slick fall of bias-cut silk.

“You look . . . absolutely amazing.” The adoration in his eyes left little doubt of his sincerity.

“Thank you. You look pretty delectable yourself.”

He put his arms around me, drew me forward against the long line of his body, and kissed me. And this time, there was no restraint, no fear, no caution. His kiss was possessive—and also victorious.

We tumbled onto the bed, Jeff apologizing when he tangled in the silk that fell to my ankles. He rolled me atop him, plucked a rose petal from my hair, then pulled my mouth to his and kissed me again.

His lips were so soft, the kiss so tender. But somehow, missing something.

He drew back, pushed the hair away from my face. “Are you alright?”

I propped my arms on either side of his head. “Honestly, I still feel a little ungainly right now.”

He squinted, scratched at his temple. “I kind of know what you mean.”

He sat up, surveyed the room. “I think maybe this isn’t us. I mean, don’t get me wrong—I like romance as well as the next guy.” He picked up a handful of rose petals, and let them fall like water from his hand. “I’m just not sure this is our kind of romance.”

I looked around at the scene he’d prepared. It was all perfect, and right out of the romance playbook. But maybe not our particular romance playbook. “I think you’re right. What do we do?”

He looked over at me. “Do you think you can juggle?”

As it turned out, I could juggle. With some instruction.

He’d stuck to boxers, but I’d switched out the negligee for another “Jakob’s Quest” T-shirt for the lesson, and we’d reassembled in the living room, where we had plenty of space to maneuver.

Jeff was a marvel. Having seen him in full gaming frenzy, I didn’t doubt he had great hand-eye coordination. But watching him whip beanbags through the air in smooth and fluid arcs was seriously impressive.

He taught me to toss one, then two, and I was feeling optimistic. But tossing the beanbags he’d pulled from a drawer with syncopation just wasn’t happening.

I smiled at the pile of beanbags on the floor. “I can’t do this.”

“You can,” he assured me, standing behind, hands at my waist to ensure I was standing up right and kept my elbows at my side.

The beanbags hit the floor again . . . and then again . . . and then again.

And then, by some miracle of gravity and inertia, I had it. The bags moved like competing waves, slipping by each other—and somehow landing in hand, where I tossed them into the air again.

“I got it,” I said through clenched teeth, afraid to move. “I think I got it.”

“You got it,” he said behind me, his excitement a buzz of magic at my back.

And then . . . I didn’t have it.

One of the bags bounced awkwardly off my hand, and when I instinctively reached for it, I tossed another off course. It plopped into the fish tank with a gurgle, the fish darting to their corners like boxers at the bell.

Jeff punched both arms into the air. “Touchdown!” he screamed out, like I’d just made the winning throw at the Super Bowl.

I burst out laughing . . . and couldn’t stop. I laughed until tears flowed from the corner of my eyes, until I was on my knees on the carpeted floor, until my stomach was aching from it.

“The crowd goes wild!” Jeff shouted, running around the living room in a victory lap, pumping his arms in the air. He spiraled back to me, and held out his hand, fisted to hold an imaginary microphone.

“Ms. Keene, you’ve just scored your fourteenth winning touchdown in this record-setting game. How are you going to celebrate?”

Still hiccupping with laughs, I mopped at my cheeks and looked up at him, grinning foolishly. Grinning adorably.

This, I realized, was us. Not playing at a kind of movie and magazine romance that didn’t really interest us.

But laughing together. Learning together. Loving together. That was our particular romance. And it was a heady brew.

He was still crouched in front of me when I saw the sudden intensity in his eyes, that shift from humor to seduction. This time, I didn’t shy away.

I reached out, put a hand to his cheek, and swooned when he closed his eyes, lips curving with pleasure. I leaned forward, pressed my lips to his and kissed him softly. Just a small kiss, a small enticement.

He opened his eyes, surprise on his face. “You’ve never kissed me like that.”

I frowned. “Like what?”

“Like you needed to do it.”

Love swamped me, ferocious in its desire to make him see what I’d known for a very long time. That he’d always been the only one, even if I’d denied it.

I put my hands on his face, met his gaze. “I need you. I’ve always needed you. I just didn’t allow myself to admit it.”

He growled low in his throat, and his mouth was on mine before I’d even processed the sound. It was less a kiss than a battle, and we both intended to win.

We pulled clothing with animal ferocity, tearing at them like they were burning us alive. I found his elastic waistband and released him, and he fell, heavy and hard, into my hand.

“Jesus, Fallon,” he said against my mouth, as I handled him well and thoroughly, his body fairly vibrating with pleasure. “I need to be inside you.”

He stripped me of the clothing that remained and stared down at me.

“Jeff?”

He held up a finger. “Un momento. I’m savoring this moment. Committing it to memory.” He slid the flat of his hand down the middle of my body, then lifted it again to cup my breast.

My body sang with pleasure, eyes drifting shut from the sensations that I’d imagined for so long, finally real.

His mouth clamped on mine again, and he pressed me down to the thick carpet beneath us, his arousal between our bodies, eager for action. With hands and fingers he teased and entreated, his kisses brutal. I dug fingers into his back, pulling him closer.

“Jeff. I need you.”

He growled, low in his throat, and without argument or delay, spread his body over mine and thrust powerfully. He made a noise that sounded like relief, but relief wasn’t on his mind, not for me.

Sweet and geeky Jeff, lover of games, knew how to move. Each nearly brutal motion rode the line between pain and pleasure as his mouth tortured mine. Our magicks rose again, keeping pace as pleasure swamped us, and exploding through the room when we cried out the other’s name.

It was twenty minutes before I could feel my legs again. I glanced at him beside me, smiled. “I’m not sure how we’re going to improve on this.”

He didn’t even pause. “I have several very specific ideas.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, and had the sense he’d been saving that response for a very long time.

“Oh?” I turned to my side to face him, propping myself on an elbow. “And what ideas are those?”

“Costumes.”

“You’re not serious.”

“Princess Leia. Wonder Woman. Silk Spectre. Mystique. Hit Girl. So many options.”

“I’m not putting on a costume to satiate your prurient fantasies,” I said, lying back on the floor again.

And then I thought about who he was, and who I was, and our kind of romance. “But if you’re willing to play Bruce Wayne, I might reconsider.”

He was. So I did.