So this would be painful. But Bellwether wouldn’t kill me. That was the original purpose of the scent-marking after all. A warning that Orion was looking out for me, that he would protect me if necessary.

  Which is when I remembered our ace in the hole. Shifting as fast as I could, words were already spilling out of my mouth as I lost my sharp canines. “Chief Bellwether, I acknowledge your win. Orion, I choose you as mate.”

  The earth responded faster than either male shifter. Sand rose up to sting the parts of my bare skin not covered by Bellwether’s furry body. Meanwhile, an inkling of sensation on my forearm suggested the matebrand ink was regrowing. Electricity built inside me and outside me…

  …Then nothing. The cloud of sand particles plummeted, the electric itch on my arm subsided. And what I saw lunging toward me through the dusty air wasn’t a mate resplendent in our newfound connection.

  Well, it was Orion. But his lupine ears were pinned as he barreled forward with no intention other than battle.

  Because that’s what his evasive language had meant earlier. His nod hadn’t been agreement to wiggle out of this mess with a mating, and his language back in the gym hadn’t been an agreement to let Bellwether harm me either. Instead, he’d bided his time. And when I appeared to be unable to free myself, he forgot his pack and his duties and the inevitable result of alpha challenges. He forgot everything except a wolf’s urge to protect the woman he still refused to claim as his mate.

  Slamming into Bellwether, the pair tumbled sideways off me. Not before Bellwether’s claws raked across my bare skin, though. Not before I was showered with a mixture of aromas—rotten peaches combined with cactus spines and the dense, dominant fur of two alphas.

  Mingled with that was another aroma. Amusement. Pleasure. This one didn’t emanate from Orion but rather from Bellwether. The older shifter would have liked to form a matebrand with me, but Orion’s attack was another eventuality he’d equally craved.

  After all, this wasn’t just an attack. It was an alpha challenge, one Bellwether appeared certain he would win.

  And I had a sinking suspicion he was right. I’d seen Orion fight like a pro in the past, but this wasn’t the same Orion. Instead, each move was defensive, his only apparent goal keeping his body between mine and Bellwether’s.

  The older wolf had no such handicap. Not when Bellwether had already dismissed me as irrelevant, had moved on to the task of gaining power by taking out another pack leader and merging their lands.

  Or I could only assume that was Bellwether’s intention as he found his way onto Orion’s back, head-to-tail with the other wolf. Throats and bellies were the most vulnerable spots on the lupine body, but most fighters went for throats.

  This time, Bellwether went for the belly. Curling sideways around Orion, his teeth sank in.

  Then blood spurted out of Orion, sinking into the hungry earth.

  Chapter 23

  We weren’t mates. I knew that because I didn’t feel Orion’s pain searing through my own belly. I felt his pain, instead, in my throat, which clenched shut. In my eyes, which ached for want of tears. In my bare feet as I raced across scorching sand to wrest his broken body away from Bellwether.

  To my surprise, the massive wolf didn’t protest. Just let me cradle the unmoving body of his opponent in my lap.

  Probably he could see the same thing I saw. Orion was dying. He lacked the energy to shift back to human form. And without that transformation, he’d bleed out within minutes even though I pressed both hands as hard as I could into the awful mess of broken skin and sodden fur that used to hold in his guts.

  If Maya had been there, maybe she could have saved him. She was the pack’s healer, the one who understood how to doctor wolves who were also humans.

  If Orion had accepted the matebrand, maybe the outpack could have saved him. After all, the electricity that had risen between us earlier was pure magic and power. It must have at least a sliver of a chance at forcing the gaping edges of Orion’s wound back together.

  It was also the only straw left for me to grasp.

  “We’re mates,” I murmured into the soft fur of Orion’s forehead. “You know that. Just because I made a mistake the first time doesn’t mean this is a mistake the second time. Accept the matebrand. It will save you. It will save us.”

  I couldn’t tell whether Orion was simply being stubborn or whether he was beyond the ability to make that sort of decision. Either way, nothing happened. He stared up at me, but when a fly landed on the edge of his eyelid he didn’t blink to dislodge it. Instead, I had to brush the winged vermin away with a hand so bloody it left a trail of red across Orion’s formerly unblemished facial fur.

  Which is when his pack mates began to howl, their undulating rhythm seeming to expand out all the way to the heat haze at the horizon. It was unearthly, wolves crying out pain and loss. Wolves grieving the leader at their heart.

  “He’s not dead!” I yelled, refusing to take my eyes away from the painfully slow rise and fall of Orion’s chest. “Stop it!”

  My words made no difference. The pack continued to mourn.

  Someone wasn’t mourning. Rotten-peach hands landed possessively on my shoulders as familiar breath wafted over the top of my head and into my nostrils. “I’m glad that you joined his clan,” Bellwether purred. “It means you’ll be mine soon.”

  I hadn’t joined Orion’s clan, but I didn’t bother correcting Bellwether. Instead, I tried yet again to draw upon outpack magic. There were still a few tiny remnants of tattoos banking power within our bodies. Surely I could use that potential here in the outpack, atop sand that advanced out in every direction. Surely…

  I grabbed handful after handful of sand, but not so much as a crackle of electricity met my summoning. And Bellwether’s patience was wearing thin. I could feel that in the way his fingers clenched down harder into my naked skin. The way his scent turned sharper and more acquisitive as I ignored his presence at my back.

  Soon, he’d force me away from Orion. His impatience would prompt him to quench the last hint of light out of Orion’s eyes even faster than it was already fading.

  I couldn’t let that happen. But what could I do to prevent it? The endless yodeling of Orion’s pack mates was making it impossible to think. And I’d run out of options…

  Bellwether acted before I expected him to. Just like twice before, he landed on top of me. Just like twice before, I wasn’t prepared. And this time, the heavy weight of the older man’s body folded my torso down onto Orion, crushing the wolf who couldn’t afford further injury.

  I didn’t think. Just lashed out. Shoved the dead weight of my attacker away from me…

  And it worked. Bellwether tumbled sideways, not even trying to maintain his advantage. He thudded onto the bloody sand beside me, face staring directly into the sun.

  His lack of a flinch at being blinded helped me understand why it had been so easy to dislodge him. My counter-offensive wasn’t what had twisted Bellwether’s head at an unnatural angle to his body. My counter-offensive wasn’t what had killed the man who had tried to kill my mate.

  No, the responsible party was Prince. Orion’s friend stood tall above me, taking a step sideways to block the glaring sunlight as he spoke not to me but to the assembled watchers. “Orion’s pack is under my protection,” he intoned, voice redolent with alpha power. And despite his relatively tender age, I doubted anyone would argue, especially after he’d just snapped Bellwether’s neck.

  Vaguely, I noted that I’d prompted yet another transfer of power within the Bellwether pack, something I should have felt guilty about. But there was no room for guilt to gain a toehold. Instead, I was fiercely glad that Prince was taking charge of one set of potential problems. I was glad not to have to deal with Bellwether while trying to cram the life back into Orion.

  Because I wasn’t giving up. Even though there were more flies landing on him now. Even though I’d let up pressure on his wound when Bellwether fell atop me and it was now hard to decide where to press to stem the gushing flow of blood.

  “We should leave.” That was Vega, helping in the only way she could—by drawing unaffiliated wolves away from here. Because even though the immediate threat of Bellwether had been neutralized, Orion still lay unable to defend himself. Blood I couldn’t seem to hold in seeped out from between my fingers. It scared me that thrusting the heel of my hand into his wound with all my strength didn’t evoke even the hint of a reaction to what should have been excruciating pain.

  “Can’t see why we’d do that.” This new voice belonged to the other alpha. “Just wish I’d brought popcorn. Most entertainment this desert has offered in months.”

  His less-than-helpful commentary was interrupted by a rustle of movement behind me, as if the crowd surrounding us was turning or parting. But I didn’t glance over to see what was happening. Didn’t do anything other than beg the outpack to save Orion, making promises I couldn’t keep.

  “Let him live and we’ll become matebranded,” I whispered even though Orion had refused my most recent offer of that renewed connection. “Let him live and I’ll welcome you inside me. I won’t argue. I’ll be grateful for your presence.”

  The sand didn’t even skitter in a slight breeze this time. There was no electricity, no firefly-like sparks of light.

  Vaguely, I noted the presence of signature aromas I hadn’t caught in days—those belonging to Gabi and Maya. Vaguely, I heard my ex-mentor complaining. “I don’t see Celeste and Finnegan.”

  “They’re coming.” That was Donovan, the whir of his all-terrain wheelchair advancing along with his voice as he traveled across the sand toward us. He must not have known Orion was wounded because he called ahead, speaking directly to his alpha. “I didn’t tell you, Orion, because I knew you’d pass the information along to your mate and she’d confront her sister. But we’ve been aware of Celeste sneaking out to meet Finnegan for days now. Both of them will be along momentarily.”

  “Let me through.” That was Maya, who must have either seen Orion or felt his pain down the pack bond. Because her voice, unlike her mate’s, was higher pitched than usual. And when her knees thudded onto the sand beside me, she tried to remove Orion from my grip.

  I knew it was wise to let a healer look the patient over. But I couldn’t force my fingers to release him. I only realized I was growling when Maya’s voice turned soft.

  “Okay,” she soothed as if I was the wounded wolf. “I’ll examine him here. Your instincts were good. Maintain pressure. I just need to turn him a little to see…”

  Her voice trailed off. Her scent turned as sour as the queasy insides of my stomach. Maya didn’t say anything further, but I knew her diagnosis.

  Orion was dying. It was too late to save his life.

  For one long moment, we sat there side by side, me and the woman who could have become my sister whether or not we shared genetic material. A sweet future that never would be unspooled in front of my eyes like a reversing memory. A new future took its place.

  Without Orion, I’d leave here. I couldn’t stay and be reminded of his kindness, his patience, the green thumb he used to nurture not just his garden but everyone who came within arm’s reach.

  I couldn’t stay here and remember the chances we’d been given, chances I’d tossed aside so carelessly. The moment of wonder in the outpack when Orion and I had first met. His sacrifice when he’d broken our bond to save my life.

  Maya was still talking to me, but at first the sounds were mere syllables. Then, as words came into focus, they made no sense. I knew Orion’s sister enjoyed romance novels, but why was she talking about them at a time like this?

  “…thought today was a double-date trope,” she murmured to me while stroking the fur of Orion’s ruff. He was only slightly bloody there. If I looked at him from the neck up, it was possible to imagine he was merely napping with his eyes open.

  “But that’s not what this is,” Maya continued. “Elspeth, listen to me. It’s time for the grand gesture.”

  The grand gesture? What was she talking about?

  Static electricity from Orion’s fur cleared my brain just enough so I finally understood what Maya was saying. Our broken matebrand had been using romance-novel tropes against us for over a month now. What it wanted was for me and Orion to commit to each other, to admit that our feelings were greater than the fear holding us back.

  In a rom-com, I’d find a way to have Orion’s name and mine splashed across the screen of a massive jumbotron. I’d race across a crowded airport bearing balloons spelling out my apology, stopping the man I loved before he boarded a flight.

  I had neither jumbotron nor balloons now. But perhaps if I made as grand of a gesture as was possible under our current circumstances, the alien power of the matebrand might be tempted to save Orion’s life?

  If so, I was all in. I’d try anything. It didn’t matter that I’d been raised to keep my emotions under wraps. It didn’t matter that my first impulse was always to speak like a human. I was glad to be a wolf now for the sake of Orion’s survival.

  So I didn’t murmur this time. I let my voice ring out for all to hear, the words tumbling forth in ardent entreaty as I grasped for any shred of our tattered and broken mate bond.

  “Orion, you told me that a relationship is like an apple tree. Sometimes you have to pinch off the first round of blooms to strengthen the roots. But our roots are strong. They’re so strong. And you don’t keep pinching off flowers every year. That’s not how fruit trees work. It’s not how mate bonds work either. At some point, you have to trust that I know my own mind. That I want you in my life forever.”

  As I spoke, the bloody sand began creeping up the side of my naked thigh. Its advance was rough and damp and thoroughly unpleasant. I had to fight the instinct to flick it away as it traveled from me onto Orion, inching like a gruesome tongue across his body until it reached his wound.

  There, it congealed like a bandage…or possibly like a leech sucking out the liquid we’d already learned granted power to the outpack. Was I feeding a hungry alien or was I helping Orion? Would this slow or accelerate his decline?

  I couldn’t tell, so I kept talking. “You’re right that I wasn’t ready to become your mate when we first met. I didn’t even understand my own wolf, let alone your wolf. But you gave me the time I needed and I learned who I was. Who you are.”

  I swallowed against dryness. The sun was unbearably hot. And the leech bandage seemed to be engorging. This wasn’t working.

  Didn’t matter. Instinct told me to talk, so I kept talking. “I don’t just like who you are, I like who we are together. I like that the most, actually.

  “No, I don’t like it. I”—my throat tried to close in self-preservation, but I forced out the words I’d never used around another human being—“I love it. I love you, Orion. Please become my mate. I need you. I can’t live without you. I”—

  The sand on Orion’s wound began sparkling. As if I’d finally said the right thing. As if the leech-like bandage was going to save him.

  Or at least I hoped that was what was happening. Orion’s chest moved so slowly now, I wasn’t sure if it was only in my own imagination.

  Then I heard Gabi’s voice, curt and commanding, the way she used to order me around during dangerous trainings when there was no room for error. “Finnegan, now.”

  There were other bodies near me. I knew that. People I’d vaguely noticed arriving as I focused on Orion. Celeste, whose presence slowed my pounding heartbeat the same way Maya’s presence had. And Finnegan, still dressed impeccably but not seeming to mind the blood soaking into his perfectly pressed trousers as he sank down beside us atop the damp earth.

  “Hold my hand,” Finnegan demanded, his tone urgent.

  “Really?” Celeste answered. “You said we couldn’t…”

  “Now we can.”

  Then a pair of hands met above Orion. Hands with half-moons on the undersides of their wrists, half-moons boasting mirrored puzzle pieces on what should have been the flattened sides.

  And on my arm, a piece of tattoo blazed hot then abruptly faded into nonexistence.

  Was that where our ink had been going? Every time Celeste snuck out to meet Finnegan, did Orion and I lose a little bit of our dormant matebrand?

  But Finnegan seemed to know what he was doing. And Celeste trusted him, so I trusted him also. I didn’t push them apart, only watched as the half-glyphs on their skin rotated to come into better alignment. The sensation of electricity in the air grew overwhelming, as if all the energy the pair would have used shifting into lupine form throughout their lives was instead being channeled into their half-glyphs.

  Then, with an audible snap, two partial moons formed one unbreakable circle. And the entire rest of the tattoos on my forearm vanished in a single searing flash of electrically charged light.

  Chapter 24

  Orion’s lupine body jolted. Not as if he was waking up. More like I’d wet down his tail then stuck it in an electric socket.

  “This isn’t helping,” I started. In fact, if I wasn’t much mistaken, the power of the half-glyphs had just been channeled into wiping away the final remnants of the matebrand that bound me and Orion together.

  Celeste’s face crumpled. “I didn’t mean to…”

  “I know.” I tried to keep my voice soft, but there was no softness left in me. Bending my body over the dying wolf in my lap, I told my sister, “Give us some space.”

  My sister whimpered as if I’d slapped her, and the next words came from someone else. “Prince,” Hailey said, speaking across me to the young alpha who still provided a protective shield between me and the sun’s glare. I tried to pay attention, knowing my friend wouldn’t speak unless she had a way to help. But it was hard to focus when Orion’s body seemed to be growing lighter by the second.

  Was it possible to feel the moment of death?