Werewolf Wedding(63)

“I didn’t say ask questions,” Dane snarled. “I said bring it to me.”

Every word he spoke was punctuated with a slam of his fist on his thigh. As Jake almost got to his feet, Dane kicked him down again. He landed with a hard thump and another groan of pain as he grabbed his ribs.

“Stop, Dane,” I heard him groan. “Just kill me. Get it over with. Leave her alone, leave her friends alone and take the pack. They had nothing to do with any of this.”

“I could,” Dane said, sticking out his bottom lip and nodding. “But then I’d be going back on my word. And lying? That’s no trait for an alpha, is it?”

Lying maybe not, I thought. But cleverness? Yeah, being clever is definitely a leader thing. Oh my God I hope this works. I wasn’t so sure. In fact I was almost completely sure we’d both end up dead one way or the other. I was going to watch my boyfriend get his head chopped off and then I’d be married to a psycho.

Great. This is exactly the way I thought my February would go. Oh wait, no, I thought I’d be paying bills, making some dumb dog statues, and complaining about my shitty old tools over too many beers on Friday nights. Oh, and don't forget the bad dates. God what I wouldn’t give for a shitty date right about now.

One more kick to Jake’s ribs sent him sprawling to the wooden floor. I felt a rush of anger, a pulse of hate, and thought for a split second about lunging at Dane and swinging whatever I had straight at his head.

As I approached the dais, Jake rolled his head toward me, and for just a moment – a split second of a shred of an instant – his steel-colored eyes sparkled, and he flashed me the tiniest smile. Oh my God, he’s been planning all this? It didn’t immediately stop the horror, or the fear, but knowing that he wasn’t out of control? Even with the very obvious problems, it gave me some hope that maybe...

“Get up here!”

I shrugged off my escort with a rough twist of my arm and shot him a nasty glare. In one hand I had the wine, in the other the heavy leather sack with the clanking metal. Whatever was about to happen, I was just glad it was almost over.

Dane stood, and my stomach lurched violently. The blood streaming down Jake’s face hit me in a way that blood on someone’s lip never had. It was like perfection had been beaten, like kindness had been punished just for being kind.

“Give me the bag, mate!” Dane roared. “Give me that bottle!”

Jake tapped his fingernail on the dais so quietly that only I heard. I shot a quick glance in his direction to see him curling his finger against the floor. Dane was busy roaring about how much of a stupid baby I was being, his goons were busy laughing and everyone else was busy being stunned.

In the middle of another of Dane’s torrents of verbal bile, Jake tapped again. “Throw it here,” he whispered. “Quick.”

I’m gonna need this, I thought, lifting the bottle of wine to my lips for a long pull. As I started to drink, Dane roared his approval. “Finally, someone wants to have some fun! Maybe I didn’t pick the wrong mate after all!”

I swallowed two mouthfuls, then three, and went for four before the sour taste of pinot noir got to be too much. I choked it down anyway, closing my eyes as the alcohol’s warmth spread to my toes.

“Yes!” Dane crowed. “Yes, yes! Now hand me that bag and let’s have a damn party!”

“No,” I whispered. “Not this time.”





-20-


“Ain’t no party like a werewolf party.”





-Delilah


––––––––

“You idiot! You’ve done it now!”

Dane spat with rage, but that’s all it was. An impotent sputter of squawking anger with no force behind it. Before the bag hit the ground, Jake snatched it, and tore it open. I didn’t see exactly what he had grabbed from within, but whatever it was gleamed in the dying sun’s light.

I’d never seen anything, or anyone, move as fast as Jake did in the next second, and from the way he just dumbly stood there and took the cut in his chest, neither had Dane.

A collective gasp entered the chests of the pack’s wolves as the smug alpha-to-be looked down at his chest, flattened his palm against it, and watched as red slowly seeped out of a wound, soaking his shirt.

“This is good leather,” he growled at his brother. “I’m going to have to oil this when I’m done.”

Jake wasn’t much for one liners, but the grin he cracked was just as good. He took another swing, but this time Dane was ready. He lifted a hand and deflected the blow, then slammed the palm of his hand square into Jake’s face. Jake yowled in pain, but it seemed like it was more for a distraction than because he was hurt.

The momentary look of satisfaction on his brother’s face was replaced a split-second later with a look of surprise as the knife – which looked like something a Klingon would use – took a long trip down Dane’s left biceps.

“What is this supposed to prove?” Dane howled, deflecting another blow and lifting a knee into Jake’s stomach. “You can fight?”

He grunted as a fist met his solar plexus. He twisted in pain when Jake clapped him on the side of the head with an elbow, and then finally managed to get away in the second before a haymaker took off his head.