Sliver of Silver (Blushing Death) (7 page)

“Would you recognize their scents again?” Dean asked.

“I would if I came across them,” he said, throwing his shoulders back. His chin rose ever so slightly with pride.

“Good,” Dean said.

“Thank you,” I breathed, making the words as soft as possible. Tag gawked at me. His eyes were wide with flecks of amber swirling in his light green-hazel irises. He stared at me like I was his whole world. Falling to one knee before me, he grasped my hand in his and rubbed his cheek against my sweat drenched, clammy skin.

Frozen in shock, I stood there, my mouth gaping open and tension making my shoulders ache. I had no idea what the hell was going on or what to do. Glancing up at the Pack surrounding me, shocked faces stared at Tag and then me. Each one seemed just as surprised, and freaked out, as I was.

A hush fell over the crowd as Tag scent-marked me, brushing his cheek and face against my thigh. Suddenly Tag was violently shoved aside by Jackson’s strong arm, and I hadn’t even seen him move.

“What are you doing?” Jackson growled.

Tag crawled away, scuttling behind me, and I let him. Reaching for my gun, I wrapped my fingers around the hard metal and took a step back. I made a quick gut decision and put myself between Tag and Jackson, making myself the target. 

Rage visibly vibrated through Jackson’s body as his hands trembled and the sneer on his lips grew, quivering into a snarl. If he reached for me, I was dead. There wasn’t a thing I could do about it. No matter how quick my draw was, Jackson was faster. He would always be faster.

If the ass got to Tag, though, he’d rip him apart, and I couldn’t have that. Tag’s submissive power wrapped around me, probing at me like it couldn’t figure me out. After a long uncertain moment, his soft warmth rested with a heavy sigh of what felt like relief. Tag would be a dead werewolf under Jackson’s strength and power. I wouldn’t let that happen. Not after he’d risked himself to speak up for me.

“SHE is NOT your ALPHA,” Jackson barked.

I drew my gun, smooth and without a sound, from the holster and lowered it to my side. Jackson leaned around me, glaring at Tag and completely ignoring the gun at my thigh. With the gun grasped in my hand, I definitely felt better. As Jackson’s eyes flashed the emerald green of his wolf, I flicked my thumb and unclicked the safety. The shit was about to hit the fan and my trigger finger itched to squeeze.

“See,” Jackson snickered. “She runs from me, afraid. She’s no Alpha,” he said with a chuckle-laced growl rumbling in the back of his throat. Jackson took another step in my direction. “She isn’t dominant. Not to me, not to any of us. There is no Eithina!” he snarled.

He took a step to the right and so did I. Jackson took another step to the left and so did I.

I matched him step for step until he realized I was blocking his path. He narrowed those emerald green eyes on me and reflected a violent rage that made my pulse race so fast I could taste it on my tongue. I wanted him to try it. I really, really wanted him to make that first move so I could shoot him. Killing him here and now would wrap everything up in a pretty little package.

“Enough,” Dean barked. He grabbed Jackson by the scruff of his neck and threw him hard into the crowd. The Pack parted, scattering left and right, leaving Jackson to land on his back with a crash that sounded like a felled tree. He’d broken a few bones at least. I’d heard them snap and couldn’t keep the smile from my face.

Tag scampered away on hands and knees, creating the distinct image in my mind of a tail between his legs as he moved. Dean turned to the waiting eyes of his Pack, their gazes focused on Dean and Dean alone.

“I will NOT tolerate disobedience. Challenge me or don’t, but this ends now!” Dean’s voice boomed in the open field, carrying over the distance through the darkness and resonating someplace deep in me that was primal and familiar. I shivered as his voice wrapped around me like an electric blanket set too high.

Jackson’s pain-filled groans near the edge of the tree line whispered through the silence as the Pack shrunk away from their Gaoh. I slid the gun back into its holster at my back as a single howl broke out in the back, trumpeting obedience. One by one, they joined in the low, slightly off-key chorus until a beautiful song filled the night’s sky, ringing through the Pack like a symphony. When Dean’s low baritone sounded beside me, it seemed to fill the missing gap in their song. A warm, full feeling washed over me, like being home at Christmas time or cleaning my gun.

Dean trailed off his deep howl and the entire pack followed. In a flurry of movement, shirts, shoes, pants, and everything in-between flew into the air. The corners of Dean’s mouth turned up in a content little grin, when he thought no one was looking, as he watched his Pack transform.

The first sounds of groaning billowed up to my ears from the back of the group as, one by one, they shifted. It was close to the full moon and the change would be less painful for many as the moon called the wolf in their bodies to the surface, eager and wanting to be free. Their bodies contorted, their muscles and bones moving beneath the surface as fur shot through their skin in patches.

Danny’s change had been so quick that I never really got a good look at the process. Some were just as fast as Danny had been, others were painfully slow. It wasn’t pretty. Bones cracked and realigned under the skin, fur forced its way through hair follicles that were too small, and claws burst from fingertips until their hands became small rounded paws. It was hideous and beautiful all at the same time.

Dean stood beside me until the very last one was changed and sitting at attention. He made a wide sweep of his arm and the entire pack took off at a sprint across the fields and into the acres and acres of trees, howling in chorus as the hunt began. The sound of their contentment resonated in their united voices as they sang to the moon.

Dean stood beside me, still in human form and completely clothed. He watched them like a parent watches his children play, proud and anxious.

“Aren’t you going with them?” I asked.

“In a minute,” he said, turning the full force of those blue eyes on me. “I wanted to talk to you first.” He seemed softer, more relaxed now that it was just the two of us. His shoulders were no longer the tense, rigid line they’d been and he was the familiar stoic Dean I knew.

“What about?” I was exhausted. Not sleeping and having one stress filled day after another had finally taken its toll. I shoved my hands in my pockets for lack of something to lean on and relaxed as much as I could in the sweltering heat with my heart thundering in my chest.

“Did Pat talk to you?” 

The smartass in me wanted to say
sure, all the time
but I held back. I had a feeling I knew exactly what he was asking. The subject of the Fae was too important a subject to joke about. See, I was learning.

“About the Fae?”

He nodded.

“He did,” I said, hearing the wary tone in my voice. I mentally kicked myself for letting my concern show.

“And you approve?” His tone was flat. There was no judgment in his words or sign of interest one way or the other.

I took a deep breath. A new wave of exhaustion pressed heavily on my shoulders, shoving me down into the ground as the steamy suffocating heat of the night shifted around me on the thick summer breeze. I swiped the sweat from my upper lip with my fingertips and wiped it on my jeans before I answered.

“I did,” I said, nodding.

“Why?” he asked. His question felt more like a professor seeking my reasoning than anything accusatory. We strolled through the tall grass as I pondered, trying to figure out how to explain something to him I didn’t understand myself. My reasons were probably not what Dean would expect either.

“Patrick’s growing more powerful by the day, as are you,” I said with a sheepish smile. “We won’t be able to fly under the radar forever. I thought it might be beneficial to have the Fae here to help us instead of waiting until it’s too damned late and we have nothing. I don’t want to be unprepared,” I said with resignation.
I don’t want to watch someone else I love die
.

He smiled, showing more teeth than I had ever seen. Delight shone in his eyes, as if he were seeing me for the very first time.

“That’s very Machiavellian of you,” he said. “Patrick had one hesitation about the Fae moving here,” Dean said with obvious hesitation. “You.” His gaze raked over me before finally meeting my eyes again. “He worried what a war would do to you.”

I understood more than he knew. My mortality was a weakness. No one liked admitting weakness, not even me. Dean certainly didn’t like pointing out that Patrick’s concern for me was a hindrance, but it was. It caused him to second guess himself, and his decisions.

“Patrick should worry about more than me. A war brings casualties, innocent bystanders, Pack members and people we all care about. A war brings attention to us,” I said.

I glanced up at Dean and his pale blue Caribbean eyes. The first real pangs of fear stirred in the pit of my stomach as I realized he wasn’t just Gaoh anymore; he was my friend.

He is ours.

I clenched my fists tight in my jeans pockets. “In the end, I don’t see how we can avoid it,” I forced out, regret thick in my voice.

“You’re probably right,” Dean grumbled. “Problem is, Pat’s a 20
th
century vampire. He’s got a different idea of what a vampire is,” he said, scanning beyond me into the trees. They were out there somewhere, hunting, living, running, and they were doing it without him. “That board of theirs forgets that Pat’s a leader of men. Before they were vampires, they were men. He gives them something to believe in again.” Dean turned his Caribbean blue eyes down to me. His heated gaze was full of things unspoken, things I wasn’t sure I wanted spoken either.

“So are you,” I said and my breath caught in my throat. The air seemed so much thicker than it had been a few moments ago, making it hard to breathe, hard to think. I was uncomfortable under the weight of his eyes.

“You wouldn’t know by my actions tonight.” Shaking his head, his shoulders slumped in disappointment.

The voice inside my head pressed me to reassure him.
I
wanted to wipe the disapproval from his furrowed brow no matter what she wanted.

“Jackson tries your patience. He tries everyone’s patience,” I said with a smile, teasing, and trying desperately to lighten the mood. His eyes followed me with a singularity that made things low in my body tighten in response to that hungry look.

“You could’ve killed him tonight,” he said.

Jackson was stronger, faster, and deadlier than me in every way. But if I could, I would kill him.

“He would’ve gotten to me long before I could’ve pulled the trigger.”

“You were ready.” The corner of his mouth twitched up in a coy little smile that lit his eyes, making them almost sparkle in the moonlight. “At any rate, I wouldn’t’ve let him get to you.” His eyes focused on me in a way that made my heart race and my breath sink heavy in my chest.

“I, uh, I should go,” I stammered.

Dean tugged his shirt over his head, laying it neatly beside him in the grass, followed by his boots and jeans. He wasn’t wearing underwear. No boxers. No briefs. Not even a thong. If I’d been uncomfortable before, it barely registered as I watched him strip down to nothing.

Naked as the day he was born, Dean stood tall beside me without a twinge of embarrassment. I couldn’t help but look, stare really. He was built like a college football running back. His shoulders were broad, his chest was solid and defined like he lifted weights daily. His torso narrowed to a perfectly sculpted six pack and at a height of over six feet four inches, he was more than adequate as my eyes moved down his body.

My eyes shot back up to meet his satisfied expression and my face flushed with the heat of embarrassment. The edges of his mouth turned up in a wicked little grin, making my toes curl.

Dean shifted to his wolf still grinning at me. His change was quicker than Danny’s and smooth. He seemed to merge into his other form like water falling from a waterfall. It was an easy, liquid transition that took less time than I took to tie a shoe. Skin melted into fur as bones shifted with little more effort than lifting an arm. He stood proud before me on all fours, a beautiful, large wolf, breast high. He weighed at least 200 pounds in the wolf form, probably more. His silvery gray coat sparkled in the moonlight as the warm breeze blew gently through his fur, making the hair along his long body shift and shimmer.

I wanted to run my hands through the thick fur on his back and ears but kept my hands in my pockets where they belonged. Unless you were a mated pair, petting was an unforgivable sin. Danny had said it made them feel too much like pets. I didn’t dare even touch Danny that way. Hadn’t. Hadn’t touched Danny that way.
Damn it!

I jerked my keys from my pocket and clutched them in my hand to keep from touching him. The urge to touch him was incredibly strong. My fingers actually trembled with want to feel the soft fur in my hands. He took a step toward me, rubbing his muzzle against my hip. He rubbed his whole body against me, caressing me with his warm fur, circling me as he coated me in his power and scent. His actions reminded me of a cat marking its territory, and I almost giggled but for the strange sensuality that percolated through my body. My skin tingled and a white-hot heat seared between my thighs. He circled me, running his body slowly and languorously along mine until he’d made a complete circle. He stood prone, his ears and tail up and his eyes peering somewhere off into the distance where his Pack hunted and played.