Early August
Blood and adrenaline pulsed through his veins, speeding Bishop’s blind race through the forest on the north side of town. His muscles ached with exhaustion, his tongue lolled from thirst, but he didn’t stop or slow to drink from a nearby stream. He simply ran out his rage and helplessness on four legs, uncaring of the twigs that caught in his coat or the loose branches that tried to trip him.
Running in the forest alone was an impossibly bad decision, given the four insane half-breed women terrorizing his town and his family. Short of locking himself back inside the quarterly cage and shrieking until his voice broke, Bishop had shifted and allowed his beast to roam. To rage. To run himself into exhaustion.
An hour ago, his little brother had stood up and made the bravest, most self-sacrificing decision of his entire life, and Bishop had never been more proud. Knight understood the needs of the town and its people better than any Alpha, and he’d chosen their guaranteed safety over his own freedom. He’d made an Alpha’s decision, and Bishop had to find a way to accept that after tonight he may never see Knight again.
Staying in town and facing it would have ended in a fight, or worse, bloodshed. He was wound too tight, so he ran. From his responsibilities as the Alpha’s oldest son and from his responsibilities as Knight and Rook’s big brother.
He had failed Knight for the second time.
He jumped over a fallen log, but didn’t quite clear it. His back left leg scraped against rough bark, and he tripped, landing in a pained heap in a pile of dead leaves. He lay there panting, his chest heaving, and a long, low whine tore from his throat as the memories of his first failure crawled over him.
Rook had been an infant, Knight only three years old. An arrogant ten, Bishop had been babysitting with help from their housekeeper Mrs. Troost. His brothers were both asleep when a man and three shifted loup broke into the house. Bishop had tried to fight the black beasts, and his chest still bore the scars of that attempt. Knight was kidnapped from his bed, and Bishop had lain helpless on the hallway floor, bleeding while his brother screamed for him to help. The kidnappers didn’t get far, but the fight was fierce, and their mother died defending her son.
No one blamed Bishop for that failure. He was a kid and badly wounded. No, Bishop blamed himself. He’d also sworn, after losing their mother, to protect his brothers by any means necessary. And in the last three days, both of his brothers had been kidnapped and tortured.
At midnight tonight, Knight would go with a woman who meant to do him harm, on the promise that she would leave the town alone forever. A town that would never be the same.
His family would never be the same.
The ache in his chest surged upward and out in a low, mournful howl that did nothing to alleviate the burden of its weight. He howled again, a sound that became a whine and a whimper. He didn’t know how to say good-bye to his brother. He and Knight had always spoken a simple language. They told the truth, in as few words as possible, and managed to understand each other. Knight would look to Bishop for acceptance and calm, and damn it, that’s what Bishop would give him. He owed Knight nothing less.
He hauled his tired body out of the leaves and shook off. He scented the air, then turned toward town, making the trip slowly. His back leg hurt a bit from strain, and he didn’t want to aggravate the injury. He passed close to where Winston Burke was patrolling, and the pair shared soft yips in greeting.
The afternoon was waning into evening by the time he loped into the backyard. He’d left his clothes behind the shed in a relatively private area, and he began to shift back almost immediately. Bones snapped and popped into place. His skin prickled as the thick gray fur receded, replaced by tanned skin. His entire face rearranged itself, the transformation more painful than usual because of his exhaustion. He needed water and dinner, or his mood would only continue to sour. A loup garou’s metabolism required frequent large meals. Starvation could lead to insanity.
A newly familiar scent of apple blossoms and honey tickled his nose before he heard her footsteps on the grass. He stood up and stretched out the muscles in his back and arms, his entire body tingling from the transformation. Jillian Reynolds turned the corner behind the shed and stopped, hands on her hips, glaring in a way that made her angular face almost scary in its ferocity.
“Did you get that out of your system?” she snapped.
Bishop snagged his boxers off the ground and pulled them on, in no mood for a reproach from her. “I needed to run.”
“Oh good. You needed to run around the woods while there are four psychopathic women out there targeting your family. Glad to hear it.”
She sounded genuinely pissed off, and that surprised him. Granted they needed all available fighting loups on their best game, and loup physiology required a resting period after shifting, so he couldn’t shift again for at least two hours, but this felt . . . personal. More than a fellow future run leader concerned about a friend. It was also the first time she’d been so sarcastic with him.
“I feel better,” he said, which was a total lie. He’d burned off some of his rage, sure, but the rest of his churning emotions lingered right below the surface where they had to stay.
“I don’t care, Bishop. Going off alone like that was irresponsible. What the hell is wrong with you?”
Jillian didn’t know about Knight’s choice. She hadn’t been in the room. Only six people knew, including Knight, and it had to stay that way for everyone’s safety. He hated keeping Jillian out of the loop, because her insight had been invaluable thus far. But they could not risk another person knowing the plan. A version of the truth, then. “My brother is being targeted by four insane women who want to make more insane half-breed babies with him, that’s what’s wrong with me. I’m sorry I’m not handling the stress the way you’d prefer.”
She scowled. “Look, I know this has been hard on your family—”
“Hard?” He snorted.
“But Knight is fine. Rook is fine. We are watching the perimeter of the town, and we will know if they try to attack us. We have the advantage.”
“We have the illusion of an advantage.”
“What does that mean?” She stepped forward, her scent invading his personal space and making his beast take notice. His beast had noticed her from the moment they met, and he had worked hard to quell that pull. Father once told him that his beast would know his mate when they met, just as Father had known their mother was his. But Bishop and Jillian were an impossible match, so his beast needed to shut the hell up.
“I know Brynn went out of town, and I know she’s back,” Jillian continued. “What did she find out that has you so on edge?”
“It’s classified.”
She snarled. “Fuck you, it’s classified. I have worked side by side with you and Alpha McQueen since the Stonehill attack. Don’t keep me in the dark about this.”
“It isn’t my call, Jillian.”
“It’s your father’s?”
“Yes. And don’t even think about going to him on this. He won’t tell you.”
Her dark, flecked eyes flashed with anger. “Don’t give me orders, Bishop. I’m not a member of your run.”
“No, but you should understand the very simple concept of an Alpha’s decree.” His frustration and helplessness was coming out in the worst way possible, goading Jillian into getting angry with him. He simply wanted her to leave him alone until tomorrow, when everything could be explained.
She bristled. “What is wrong with you? Are you trying to pick a fight?”
Hell yes, he was. “If I was, I’d have chosen a better-equipped opponent.”
She looked genuinely offended by that, and she had every right. Jillian was a Black Wolf, born stronger and faster than his common Gray Wolf. She automatically had a higher status than him, even though they were both firstborns of their run’s respective Alphas. He had been deliberately patronizing with his remark, and he couldn’t bring himself to care.
Jillian came forward until they were almost nose to nose, her very presence a live wire with this kind of proximity. His chest heaved, breathing a bit too difficult. Her cheeks were flushed, her hands fisted by her sides. She was shorter than him by a mere handful of inches, so she didn’t have to strain to glare at him right in the eyes. His beast shuddered, aroused by her anger.
He waited for a sharp retort, or even a challenge to a fight, which he’d have gladly accepted. Anything to get his mind off tonight.
“No one else has ever complained about my equipment,” Jillian said. Her voice was smoother, silkier, with a hint of a taunt there.
Was she fucking flirting with him?
Her gaze dropped to his bare torso, then flickered back up. She arched one slim eyebrow. “Can you say the same?” she asked.
Hell yes, she was flirting. He never considered it possible that she might feel the same draw to him as he felt to her. And even so, she must already have sifted through the reasons why they couldn’t be together. He would be Cornerstone’s Alpha one day. She would be the Alpha Female of Springwell’s run. Their paths had converged for a brief time, but their futures were not intertwined.
“Why don’t you try my equipment out and see for yourself?” Bishop replied.
Heat flared in her eyes, and it speared him in the gut. The tip of her tongue darted out, wetting her upper lip. He saw the battle waging inside of her, demanding she take a step back and not incite anything. The same war was happening inside of Bishop, because all he wanted to do was kiss her, and he knew it was the exact wrong thing to do. He prided himself on making good decisions. Fair decisions.
But he’d already made one bad decision tonight by losing himself in the forest. What was another?
She tilted her head to the side, a clear invitation—and challenge.
Fuck it.
His mouth crashed into hers, and his beast roared with satisfaction. She opened for him with a soft growl, kissing him back with a ferocity born of need and loneliness. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, licking, tasting the sweet essence of her. He clasped the back of her neck and drew her closer, needing more. She clung to him, the growl deepening as their kiss did, and soon he joined her song.
He slipped his free arm around her waist and hauled her closer, her lean, toned body hot against him. His cock stirred as his beast demanded he stake his claim on this woman. This woman whose kisses woke him up in a way that no woman had before, whose very presence challenged him to be better. This woman whom he could never claim as his mate.
***
The unfairness of finding her and knowing he could never have her collided with his earlier rage, and he jerked away. Jillian stumbled backward two steps, her cheeks flushed and lips moist. Confusion flashed in her eyes and creased her brow. She was panting, her arousal a faint tang in the air between them.
“I’m sorry,” Bishop said, his voice hoarse, tight. “I can’t.”
“I’m a widow, Bishop, and you’re Gray. This isn’t a declaration for either of us.”
“This is nothing for either of us.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You felt the same thing I did.”
He felt that and more, and he hated himself for allowing a taste of her, because he wanted more. He had to make that impossible. Make her step back. “Are you sure?” he asked with a derisive sneer.
She faltered, uncertain for the first time since they’d met, and he’d done that. With time and distance between herself and this moment, she would understand that ending this before it began was the correct choice. Besides, he didn’t deserve something in his life that could make him happy, even if only temporarily. He wasn’t allowed that, not while Knight suffered.
He knew enough of her past to draw on the cruelest thing possible in order to drive her away. “This is a mistake.” Stone cold. Hateful. “I’m not really into a dead man’s leftovers.”
Fury darkened her expression, and her entire body coiled tight. He braced for a slap, a punch, some physical manifestation of her temper. She took a step toward him, rage rolling off of her in waves that tempted his Gray’s instinctive need to kneel beneath the weight of a Black’s fury. He forced himself to stay still. Not to apologize.
“You have no idea what I lost that night,” she said, her voice cold. Brittle.
She walked away.
Bishop leaned against the shed, sick at what he’d done. Sick over everything that had happened today, and certain he had just lost something very precious.
September
The situation seemed well in hand by the time Bishop made a necessary appearance at the old Flynn Boarding House, drawn there by a 411 text from his brother Rook. 411 was code for a nonemergency that required a strong reaction from Bishop, the oldest son of the run’s Alpha and his future replacement. And anything that happened at the boarding house demanded Bishop’s attention. The old building was housing the sixteen refugees from another run that been decimated two weeks ago, and not all had integrated well, causing the occasional fight to break out with Cornerstone residents.
A handful of curious bystanders scattered when Bishop hit the boarding house’s front porch, leaving four people waiting for his attention. Rook stood with his arms folded, his gaze steely, clearly put out by the whole incident. He was with Jonas Geary, the son of the refugee run’s dead Alpha, and the de facto Alpha for his people. Jonas was glaring at the two females standing at attention between him and Rook, the burn scars on Jonas’s face giving the expression more fury than he probably felt.
No one was bleeding, so Bishop put that into the plus column.
“What the hell happened?” Bishop snapped.
The Cornerstone loup looked up, keeping her gaze on Bishop’s chin as a sign of respect instead of looking him in the eye. Lila Smythe worked in Smythe’s Restaurant, the only big eating establishment the town had to offer, other than a small bakery and diner across the street. She was also young, headstrong, and seemed to share her family’s blatant dislike of the Potomac run refugees.
“A misunderstanding, sir,” Lila said.
“A misunderstanding that required two Blacks to break it up?” Bishop shifted his glare to the other woman, and it took a moment for her name to come. Rachel Kowalski, unmarried, human-loup half-breed, no surviving relatives. Potomac had been a rarity among runs, in that they allowed their loup to reproduce with humans. “Anything more constructive to add, Ms. Kowalski?”
Rachel blinked, probably surprised that he knew her name. “It was a personal matter, sir. It should not have escalated to the point where intervention was needed.”
“You’re right about that.” Since the women weren’t being very forthcoming, despite his presence, Bishop turned his impatience over to Rook. “What happened?”
“They were fighting over Devlin,” Rook replied.
Bishop couldn’t stop his eyebrows from shooting up in surprise. Devlin Burke was one of the Alpha’s enforcers, as well as one of Rook and Knight’s best friends. The three were close in age, and at twenty-five Devlin was one of the few unmarried enforcers in town. Bishop had never once seen Devlin with a girl on his arm, and now two were fighting over him? One of them a half-breed?
“Fighting about what regarding Devlin, exactly?” Bishop asked. The situation was slipping from irritating to slightly amusing.
Lila’s mouth flapped open, then snapped shut again.
“Oh no, Ms. Smythe, please say what you want to say,” Bishop said. “Or better yet, say what you said to Ms. Kowalski here?”
Her cheeks blazed, but she straightened her spine and spoke. “I said Devlin deserved better than some piece of half-breed river trash.”
Rachel flinched, her gaze dropping to the floor. Jonas shifted his weight, clearly more angry over the jibe than Rachel. “I came outside because I heard Lila taunting Rachel,” Jonas said. He hadn’t been asked for his input, which irked Bishop. “She said quite a few cruel things about my people, and when I told her to back off she spat at me.” His expression went black. “She said my father was a dirty traitor, which made all of us traitors and not worthy of Alpha McQueen’s hospitality.”
Bishop’s temper flared, and he turned the force of his glare onto Lila, who had the good sense to cower. Jonas’s father, Mitch Geary, had made a clandestine bargain with one of their enemies in order to ensure Jonas’s safety in the coming battle, and in turn, Geary followed her orders to murder Rook. He’d nearly succeeded, too, ripping Rook’s left shoulder and ear to shreds and nearly killing him before help could arrive.
Rook survived the wounds, but every time Bishop looked at his brother’s scars, his chest ached a little. Ached with the memory of the bloody mess Rook had been when Bishop charged into that barn, and with the knowledge that Bishop had been the one to rip Geary’s throat out. He’d killed a run Alpha, and even though the eleven other Alphas around the country had cleared him of wrongdoing in the two weeks since, the guilt had never gone away.
Jonas had been in the dark about his father’s machinations, and he’d been instrumental in saving lives that night, so Lila’s accusations had zero merit.
And they were pissing Bishop the fuck off.
“This isn’t the first time your family has stirred up trouble with our guests,” Bishop said to Lila. “They are here under the protection of the Alpha, and if you’re having trouble with what that concept means, I’m sure I can arrange a personal audience for you with Alpha McQueen so he can explain it further.”
Lila trembled, message received. A private meeting meant trouble, and no one wanted a dressing down from the Alpha. Bishop loved his father without reservation, but he could admit that Thomas McQueen was scary as hell when he was angry.
“I apologize for my behavior,” Lila said. “I wasn’t thinking clearly. Devlin and I have been friends for a long time, and I mistakenly thought I was looking out for him.”
“Devlin is a grown man who can make his own choices. I won’t stand for petty catfights over my enforcers, is that understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
He looked at Rachel, who seemed intent on melting into the floor. “Anything to add, Ms. Kowalski?”
She raised her head, her gaze stopping at his chin. “I slapped Lila, sir.”
Bishop blinked. “When?”
“After she made her remark about Jonas being a traitor. He’s looked out for us since the attack. He’s helping us through our losses, and to understand what our late Alpha did. Jonas is a good man, and he didn’t deserve what she said.”
“I agree with you. However, violence is not condoned in this town for any reason whatsoever. You owe Lila an apology.”
“Of course.” Rachel looked like she’d rather eat ground glass than apologize, but she turned to Lila and said, “My apologies. I shouldn’t have hit you.”
“Accepted,” Lila said. The smugness in her tone ground on Bishop’s nerves.
“Don’t forget what I said,” Bishop snapped. “One more word against our guests, and you’ll be explaining yourself to the Alpha.”
“I understand.”
“Good. Now go away.”
Lila bolted off the porch and disappeared down Main Street.
“I’m so sorry for causing trouble,” Rachel said to Jonas.
“You didn’t start this, honey.” Jonas adopted a soothing tone Bishop wasn’t used to hearing from the gruff young man. “We all bear the cross of our Alpha’s actions, but we can’t allow others to goad us into violence. It’s something I struggle with every single day.”
Jonas had struggled with his temper from go, picking fights with other loup and swaggering through town. Some of the attitude had been from his father’s orders, some of it simply grief over what he’d lost. Bishop understood an unsteady temper. Hell, he’d experienced it firsthand when Jonas caused a fight that got Bishop hit by a car.
Damn but that had hurt.
Content to leave Jonas to soothe Rachel’s woes, Bishop flagged Rook and the pair walked toward the street. “They were seriously fighting over Devlin?”
Rook snorted. Sunlight glinted off the steel gauge in his right lobe and hit Bishop right in the eye. “Yeah, Lila’s pissed because Dev is into Rachel, instead of her,” Rook replied.
“Really? Devlin is actually interested in someone?”
“They hit it off the night Potomac was attacked, and they’ve been spending time together. Apparently this isn’t the first time Lila has been rude to Rachel over Dev.”
“And Devlin told you all this?”
“No, Brynn did.” Rook grinned at the mere mention of his half-Magus mate. “She’s been over to the boarding house a lot this last week or so, getting to know the Potomac refugees. I think she feels safer there because they know what it’s like to be an outsider here.”
“That makes sense.”
Brynn Atwood was a special kind of outsider—the only known living loup garou-Magus half-breed. She’d come to Cornerstone two and a half weeks ago on the faith of a vision in which she believed Rook would eventually murder her powerful Magus father. Her entire life had turned upside down thanks to that vision, and now she was happily engaged to Rook and learning what it was like to be part of a large loup garou community. Half-breeds were generally unaccepted in sanctuary towns like Cornerstone, but Brynn was Rook’s mate—soon to officially be his wife—and under the Alpha’s protection. Anyone who harmed her would face the wrath of the entire McQueen family.
“Where is Brynn?” Bishop asked, almost as an afterthought. He rarely saw one without the other, unless Rook was dealing with official run business.
“She went to talk to Father about a vision she had this morning. Then she said she’s visiting with Shay, eating lunch on the patio, I think.”
“A new vision?”
Brynn’s Magus side gave her a precognitive gift that she had no control over. She saw visions of the future, often brief flashes of a moment, with no idea if the vision would happen within minutes, or years later. Her visions had brought her to Cornerstone, and several of them had been incredibly useful in their battle against the vampire-loup half-breed triplets. She’d made it a habit to report each vision to their Father, because she never knew what might be relevant.
“Yeah. Not very much, just a flash of an old wooden cabin near a river somewhere.”
“That’s it? No people?”
“Nope. It’s probably nothing.”
Bishop didn’t respond to that. “Is Knight eating with Brynn and Shay?” He’d yet to see Knight that day.
“No idea. Could be.”
The idea of lunch made his stomach growl, which got Rook snickering. They angled in the direction of home without speaking a word. The McQueen house was a block off Main Street, on a narrow tree-lined street, with a wide yard and huge front porch. Bishop had so many good memories of growing up in that house, and as the oldest son and future Alpha, he would likely inherit it when Father passed. He still lived there with his two brothers, even though Rook and Brynn would move into their own place once they married.
Last week they had gained another resident in the house: Shay Butler. The same day Brynn showed up in town, Shay’s entire Connecticut town had been slaughtered by the trio of loup-vampire half-breeds that later would slaughter Potomac. Seriously wounded and traumatized, Shay was the only survivor of the Stonehill massacre thanks to a cruel twist of fate. Shay’s mother, a White Wolf who had gone missing twenty-five years ago, was also the mother of the vampire-loup half-breed monster triplets who had killed more than four hundred loup garou in a matter of hours.
Her murderous half-sisters had spared Shay’s life.
To further complicate their lives, the investigation into the half-breed triplets uncovered a shocking truth for Brynn, who’d spent her entire life believing she was a full-blooded Magus. She learned not only that she was half loup garou, but that the twin sister she’d been told had died at birth was alive, insane, and leading the triplets. Fiona had orchestrated the massacres, kidnapped Rook and demanded Knight in exchange, and made the deal with Geary that nearly got Rook killed.
Bishop’s gut tightened as it always did when his thoughts turned to Knight during that entire ordeal. Knight had been singled out by Fiona and the triplets because he was a White Wolf, the rarest kind of loup garou. Most loup were Gray, the common order, and about twenty-five percent were Black, the strongest and largest of the loup. Black Wolves, like Father, Rook, and Devlin, were either Alphas or they worked for the Alpha as enforcers and security—basically the human version of police officers. Only one in four hundred loup garou were White Wolves, making them both rare and special.
White Wolves were empathic by nature, and that empathy helped balance the basically violent nature of loup garou beasts. They could soothe an angry loup and sense emotional turmoil. And while all loup garou could accidentally impregnate or become impregnated by a human, Whites were the only loup garou that could procreate with a loup-human half-breed. Whites could also procreate with the only two known nonhuman species out there: vampires or a Magus. Shay’s mother was stolen from her run and forced to bear twins Brynn and Fiona, and several years later the vampire triplets, because she was White.
Fiona had targeted Knight as a means to increase the size of her insane half-breed army. She intended for her prize to act as a reluctant sperm donor and impregnate the triplets. Bishop had never felt more helpless or furious in his life than when he’d come out of his quarterly shift and discovered everything he had missed: the attack on the Potomac run, Rook’s kidnapping, and Knight’s willing trade of himself for Rook’s release. Rook and Knight had been held captive by Fiona and the triplets for several hours before their rescue.
The morning his brothers returned home from that ordeal, the haunted look in Knight’s eyes had shattered a part of Bishop that had promised to always protect his middle brother, like he’d failed to do when they were children. Bishop’s body bore the scars from his feeble attempts to prevent Knight from being kidnapped when he was a toddler, and his heart bore the burden of guilt because his failure had led to their mother’s death in pursuit of her missing child.
Bishop’s failure had taken their mother from a traumatized Knight and an infant Rook, and he had vowed to never fail his brothers again.
But every time he looked into Knight’s eyes, Bishop saw his latest failure in the shadows there. Father knew the specifics, because he had asked. As Alpha, he’d needed to know in case something happened that would affect the run. He hadn’t shared the information with Bishop, so Bishop felt certain the worst hadn’t happened. He just couldn’t bring himself to ask Knight directly and confirm it. That he needed to ask only added to his guilt.