Authors: Jeanette Battista
The noise when they entered the house hit him like a wall. He felt like he was wading through sound: the chatter of voices, the loud 80’s hairband music, the high barking laughs, the tinkle of breaking glass and snap of shattered wood as stuff was accidentally broken. He could smell dope as soon as he walked in, the sweet odor sticking in the back of his throat like sugar-coated tar. People, mostly women, were dancing in the living room. Bottles of liquor were collected on their dining room table and partygoers just grabbed whatever bottle they liked as they walked by. It would have been better for everyone if it had only been a beer bash; liquor made them all mean drunks.
Samara was in the kitchen, running her hands through the hair of a ruggedly handsome blond man who looked like he should be in an outdoor equipment catalog, maybe scaling a mountainside or something. When she saw Rafe, she wriggled out of the man’s arms and hurried over to him.
“Baby!” she cried, her voice sounding husky with a faint Southern twang to it. She wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly to her chest. She always became a little southern when she was drinking, but he barely smelled any alcohol on her. “It’s so good to see you back home safe!” She shook him back and forth and his arms flopped, unable to return the hug since they were pinned at his sides.
“Hey mom.”
“They didn’t hurt you, did they?” she asked with concern, running her hands over him. He caught her looking at him and knew she wasn’t nearly as drunk as she was pretending to be. She wasn’t looking for wounds either; she was trying to see how strong he’d gotten, how much he’d changed.
In short, it was all a put-on, a show for whoever might be watching. “I’m fine. Really.”
Teresa cracked open a PBR and handed him one. He took it but didn’t take a drink yet. He watched Samara hug Teresa, who looked less than thrilled with their mother’s behavior. His mother collected her own can and settled her back against the countertop staring at the two of them. “So how was Miami, Rafe? I want to hear everything.”
Rafe eyed his mother cautiously. He had something he needed to ask her, but now he wasn't sure if he wanted the answer. He took a moment, steeling himself. "You left me there to get information on the werecats, right? That was the plan all along wasn't it?"
He saw the flash of confusion in her eyes before it was quickly gone, covered by a faint smile. His heart sank. He knew his mother's expressions like he did his own; he was hyper-aware of every look and gesture she had. He had to be since it was the only way of avoiding violence in this house. She was lying.
"Oh, that. Well, of course." Samara turned away from him and he knew she hadn't planned anything. She'd just left him behind. He'd been an idiot to think it was anything else.
"And how was Kess?" Samara said the young wereleopard's name with a hiss added to the end, drawing out the 's' sound painfully.
Rafe weighed his words carefully. He knew what his mother wanted to hear and he sure as shit didn't want to give her any accurate information. Not now. "Untested. She kind of doesn't know what she's doing. Without her werewolves and Bomani she'd be in big trouble."
"She trusted you?"
Rafe nodded. "As much as she was able. The werewolves didn't though." He wasn't going to bring up Kess' meeting with the werejackal. That was his trump card to play and he wasn't going to waste it on her now. His mother smiled at him and reached out to touch his shoulder.
This should feel better than it does. She's happy with me. It's what I've wanted. So why don't I feel good?
Teresa broke in, a bitter smile on her face. "Oh, Rafe's just being modest." She came to his side and turned to their mother. “She wasn't expecting a thing when I nailed her with the baseball bat.”
Samara raised a delicately arched brow at her daughter and suddenly Teresa didn't look quite so sure of herself. "I don't recall ordering that."
Rafe remembered the last time Ter had done something without their mother's knowledge or approval. It had gotten four of their pack members killed.
Teresa stammered out, "Rafe's the one who lured her in. She didn't know what hit her."
“He did, did he?” Samara’s eyes glittered. Rafe didn’t say a word.
His mother reached over and brushed his good cheek with the tips of her long fingers, the nails lightly brushing his unmarked skin. He held himself completely still, afraid to make the slightest movement in case she decided to tear into him. Her index finger lifted his chin up so that he was looking into her very wide, very scary blue eyes.
"Nicely done, then. It appears you've become a huge asset to this pack, Rafe." She drew back her hand and he felt it safe to breathe again. He glanced at Teresa out of the corner of his eye. She had a weird look on her face, one he'd never seen before. Her mouth was pulled down like she'd tasted something sour. The look his sister gifted him with was poisonous.
"We'll talk more about Miami tomorrow," Samara said, turning her attention back to the blond guy. "Go enjoy the party."
He went outside, trying to find a quiet place. He needed space all of a sudden. The little house felt claustrophobic, the people and the walls all closing in like a cage. He circled around back to the small yard where he'd played when he was younger. There were a few people out here, but it was still less crowded than the front yard. And he could see the moon.
Rafe padded over to the lone tree that stood near the corner of the property. It was half dead, the branches mostly bare; what leaves there were hung limp and spotted. He hoisted himself up, nestled in the crook of two large branches and leaned back to look up at the waning moon. It was a crescent, but soon it would be gone from the sky. On the nights of no moon, the pack would hunt.
Not that there was much left to hunt these days. Their pack had gotten too big for this crappy little territory. It was why his mother was so obsessed with Miami. It held the Everglades National Park and plenty of game. She needed to keep the pack well-fed and happy or they'd turn on each other. And on her.
His mind wandered back to Miami, picking at the memories like a scab. His mother really had abandoned him—it hadn't been an act. It was only Kess' mercy that had kept him from being killed. Hell, his mother didn't care about him; the only reason she was being nice to him now was because she thought he knew some secrets about her enemies. Teresa had probably been lying about Samara sending her to check up on him. He felt like such an idiot for believing his mother had actually missed him.
He banged his head into the tree's trunk. He was so dense sometimes. Teresa had thought it was funny the way he'd stood there shocked after she'd knocked Kess down. She'd urged him to take a whack at the downed wereleopard, but he'd grabbed her shoulder. Cormac was already coming with Lenore; if they stayed, he'd tear them up. He pulled his sister along, away from Kess lying on the ground, dazed. And he wanted to keep Teresa as far away from Lenore as possible.
He'd wanted to say something to Kess. To apologize. He hadn't known. He didn't know it was going to feel like this when he'd made his decision to come back. But there was no time, and he and Teresa had to move.
He heard movement below him. Teresa's blue eyes regarded him coldly, looking up at him lounging in the tree. "What, you a cat now?"
"Only quiet place there is," he said. He didn't miss the dig, but chose to ignore it. He didn't want to fight with Ter, not now. He had too much else on his mind.
"Look, I lost my phone somewhere and need to make a call. You got one I can borrow?"
"Hang on," he said, fumbling in his jeans awkwardly for the phone Kess had given him. "Just bring it back, okay?"
"Sure thing, wonder boy." He threw the phone down to her and she caught it easily in the dark. "Nice," she said, turning it over in her hands. She headed back inside with it, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
Chapter Thirty
Lenore was sitting in her bedroom back at Kess’ house. She had no idea what had happened to Kess or where Rafe was—no one was telling her anything. It was making her mad. She didn’t like being kept in the dark like she was still a child. Big brother had told her to not to go anywhere--like she even could--his mind obviously on other things as he helped Kess into the house. So here she sat, epically bored and dangerously curious.
Kess had looked pretty out of it in the car. They’d found her in that side street on her hands and knees. Cormac had tried to get out of her what had happened, but she wasn’t in any condition to say much. She just kept her arms around her middle and her head down, leaning against Mac as they made it back to the car. She’d managed to get out that she’d gotten jumped but that Rafe hadn’t been the one to do it. Lenore had smiled. Of course he hadn’t. Rafe couldn’t do something like that.
She knew her brother didn’t like Rafe. Mac liked it even less that she liked the werehyena, that they were friends, or maybe something more. Lenore wasn’t sure exactly what it was between them, but he’d wanted to kiss her. And she wanted to kiss him right back. She hadn’t been able to recapture the natural feeling of that night they’d almost kissed—he spent a lot of time in his bedroom, presumably brooding, so Lenore hadn’t seen him much.
He brooded far too much, as far as she was concerned. She was of the mind that Rafe made things way too hard for himself, that he spent too much time in his own head. If he got out and actually met people and did stuff, he’d be a whole lot happier. At the very least, the outside distractions would take his mind off the stuff that was bothering him. She knew a little of what his home life had been like, and knew that he had some issues that affected his behavior, but she figured if he could just get out of his own way, he’d probably be okay.
Still, the brooding side of him did appeal to her. He had that whole dark prince thing going on that was sort of weirdly romantic. The black hair that hung in his pale face, the startling shine of his golden brown eyes, the face of a angel—all strong bones and sharp angles—capped off with those white ridges of scars that made him look all tragic…Lenore blew a piece of hair out of her face. Yeah, definitely yummy. And not a bad build either: tall and lanky frame, but with a good layer of lean muscle underneath the fair skin. He would never be a football player, but soccer wasn’t out of the question. She was amazed he didn’t already have a girlfriend, but with the way he kept to himself, she probably shouldn’t have been surprised.
Even the werehyena thing didn’t bother her. She may not shift based on a moon phase, but half her family did. She was used to people becoming animals on a regular basis. It was the normal, human people who had no excuse to behave like animals but did anyway that bothered her.
Lenore had texted Wyatt after she’d been introduced to Rafe. She’d even included a picture that she’d snapped on the sly. Her message had been a little taunting:
Look what I get to spend my summer with
. Since Wy was gay, they scammed on guys together and Rafe had been no exception. She couldn't wait to get his opinion on tall, dark, and delicious.
He’d texted her back, asking whether he batted for her team or his. She’d been pretty sure it was hers and had told him so. Wyatt’s response had been succinct:
I h8 U
. They’d had numerous conversations about Rafe since then.
Thinking about texting, she realized she could send Rafe one, asking what the heck was going on. She got out her phone and pulled up his number, typing in
Where R U?
before hitting send.
Lenore got up, intending to check on Kess. She knew her brother blamed Rafe somehow for whatever happened to hers, but Lenore knew otherwise. Mac wasn’t the most levelheaded when it came to the safety of his loved ones. He’d probably broken a hundred traffic laws in his hurry to get Kess back to the house.
She began to walk down the hallway toward Kess’ bedroom but heard voices coming from the den. Her cousin and her brother were talking. Lenore stopped in the hallway and stood by the door, listening to their conversation.
Mac was in mid-sentence. “…got a pretty good concussion, ribs are badly bruised but nothing broken. She’s resting now, but I’ll need to wake her up every few hours.”
“Did Kess say what happened?” That was Finn.
“It was one of the hyenas. Teresa, she said. She didn’t get a great look at her, but Kess said Rafe called her that. She thinks they took off together.” Lenore was confused. Teresa was Rafe’s sister. To say he didn’t like her was putting it mildy.
“Any sign of the kid?” Rafe.
“He was gone before I got there.” She heard movement, maybe pacing. “You think it was a setup? That Rafe got her alone so Teresa could do this?” Cormac sounded furious.
"If that was the case, he fooled all of us," Finn said.
"Not me," her brother growled. Lenore rolled her eyes.
There was silence that could mean anything. Lenore hated not being able to see faces or gestures, about not being unable to read body language. Finn spoke again. “Did she say anything else?”
“She doesn’t want to talk about it much.” Another weighted pause stalled the conversation. “What do we do?”
“I guess we wait. This is Kess’ territory and her clan. It’s her decision to make. For now, we wait until she makes one.”
They went to talking about other things. Lenore briefly thought about talking to Kess about what happened, but if she didn’t want to talk to Mac, she probably wouldn’t want to talk to her either. Kess was weird and standoffish about personal stuff. Lenore liked her but a lot of the time didn’t know what to make of her brother’s girlfriend. She returned to her room and turned on the TV.
Her phone beeped with an incoming text message. She flopped back on the bed and took a look. It was from Rafe’s number, she knew it from memory. She scrolled through it quickly:
Meet me 6 a.m. Explain everything. Vizcaya Gardens. C U
.
She texted back an
OK
. She’d see him tomorrow and be able to talk to him about what was going on. She was sure it was all just some kind of huge misunderstanding. He’d come back with her and everything would be okay again.