TO KEEP A WOLF

  BLACK MOON PACK

  BOOK THREE

  HEATHER HILDENBRAND

  To Keep a Wolf

  Black Moon Pack #3

  By Heather Hildenbrand

  © 2022

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written consent of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, either living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it, and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the authors.

  Cover design by Melony Paradise of Paradise Cover Design

  Editing by Dawn Y & Lewis Books LLC

  CHAPTER 1

  A layer of cold sweat is all I’m wearing against my skin. Even as I think about the possibility of getting dressed, nausea rolls through me. Not because clothes disgust me but because of what I’ll have to do if I wear them. Leave this room. Perform the lie. Further betray my people. Thinking about it now, I’m forced to lean over the toilet as my stomach tries to empty itself. The problem is that it already has. Dozens of times. Now, all that’s left to purge is my own regret. I don’t see that leaving me anytime soon, though.

  The world is darker today—because of me. Because of the deal I made. The deal I was forced into. Promising myself to a monster has consequences I didn’t fully understand. Not until I stood on the steps of the alpha house and watched Levi’s world crumble. But worse than watching Levi’s hope snuffed out is knowing I’ve condemned an entire pack to a future even darker than our past.

  Remembering how Jadick betrayed me, condemning Romantics instead of freeing them, my stomach twists again, and I heave.

  Nothing comes out.

  I slump back down, my knees pressing painfully into the cold tile floor of my bathroom. My hair is a sweaty, matted mess. And my muscles have never felt weaker in my life. Struggling with the movements, I manage to pull a fresh shirt over my head. My shower, finished mere minutes ago, is already rendered pointless, thanks to the fresh wave of sweat and sickness that’s taken me down to the floor all over again.

  I thought being poisoned with venom—three times, if we’re being technical—was bad. This is so much worse.

  My vision swims. Partly from the tears I can’t seem to keep from spilling and partly because the sickness gripping me is a total bitch.

  It’s the rejection.

  All this time, I’d thought I’d felt the worst of it. The pain of Levi walking away from me was brutal, but this is something else entirely. My body hates me for what I’ve done. My wolf won’t even speak to me when I call on her.

  Dying would be easier.

  Maybe then, I wouldn’t have to watch as my stupid decisions bring about the destruction of an entire generation… Because if this is what it feels like to reject your fated mate, I have truly doomed us all.

  There’s no strength in this.

  Only pain and misery.

  I deserve it.

  A knock sounds at the bedroom door, eliciting a groan from my hoarse throat.

  “Go away,” I croak, but the words are way too weak to be obeyed.

  Sure enough, whoever it is pushes into my room. It’s easy enough considering Jadick had my lock reversed so that it only works from the outside. Still, visitors have been kept to a minimum since they stuck me here after the engagement was announced. Meals are brought up on a tray and brought in by security guards that I’m positive remain stationed just outside the door at all times. I’ve seen no one beyond them and my new fiancé. Even my mother has been absent, though I’m not sure whether that’s by Jadick’s order or her own decision. Last we spoke, I wasn’t exactly encouraging of future visits.

  From where I sit now, I can just make out a masculine shoulder as the current visitor kicks the bedroom door shut behind him. His scent hits me first, and I feel a ripple of unease as I recognize it. He is not a welcome guest right now. In fact, I almost would have preferred Jadick himself.

  Instead, it’s Tripp, my best friend—or maybe former best friend, especially now—who strides across my plush bedroom and stops to stare down at me. My stomach sinks at the disappointment and accusation reflected in his light brown eyes. “Mackenzie Marie Quinn.”

  My full name. Damn.

  His tone is sharp and just reproachful enough to hit me right in my heart. Tripp and I have always called each other on our bullshit, but I’m not sure I can handle that right now. I look away, hanging my head. Before I can formulate a response, my stomach revolts, and I’m forced to lean over the toilet again.

  While I dry heave, Tripp comes closer, pulling my hair back out of my face.

  The kindness of his gesture makes me feel even worse.

  “Thanks,” I say, miserable, as I slump back against the wall, but Tripp’s sympathy dries up the moment I’m not preoccupied with the business of vomiting.

  “What the hell, Mac,” Tripp growls.

  I bring my face up and note the way his eyes are narrowed. But my senses are too strung out to read whether he’s pissed at me or for me. I’m going to assume the former, though.

  “I know everyone’s pissed,” I begin but then stop again as a wave of dizziness takes over. I lean on the toilet seat for support and wait for it to pass.

  Tripp hesitates like he wants to say one thing but, instead, decides on another. “What’s wrong with you?” he demands.

  “The rejection,” I mumble and then press my hand to my mouth while I try to decide if my stomach has somehow found a scrap worth expelling.

  Finally, I exhale.

  False alarm.

  “How long have you been like this?” Tripp demands.

  “Um. What day is it?” I ask, trying to do the math in my fuzzy, sleep-deprived brain.

  Instead of answering, he reaches for the hand towel and runs water from the sink over it. When it’s drenched, he wrings it out and then crouches beside me. He lifts the cold, wet towel toward my forehead, and I flinch.

  He pauses, his angry look draining away, replaced by a softness that makes me want to curl into a ball and never come out again.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he says quietly, and I relax.

  Slowly, he brings the towel to my forehead and wipes. Then my cheeks, my nose, my chin, my neck. The cool dampness is a balm to my sweaty, sticky skin. I breathe out a sigh of—not relief but something close to it.

  “Do you feel as bad as you look?” he asks.

  When I glance up, his lips are twitching. I snort. “Worse.”

  “Damn, girl.”

  He sits back, sizing me up in a different way now.

  But I don’t wait for him to come to a conclusion.

  “How are you here?” I ask. “I thought you and Jadick were on the outs.”

  He gives me a look that says “understatement,” and it really is.

  “You could say that.” He shakes his head. Jadick had been beyond pissed to learn Tripp had accused him of drugging my wolf in order to keep me weak while he manipulated me into marriage.

  “Grey called me after the announcement. Told me what happened with your wolf.”

  “Wait. What do you mean what happened with my wolf?”

  “The connection. To Levi?” At my confusion, he hesitates. “Your mate bond made you feel what Levi felt…? Did no one explain this to you?”

  I shake my head.

  He sighs. “Apparently, your mom put it together, and Grey overheard when she said something to Jadick after your … announcement was made the other day.” He frowns at the mention of that particular event but then goes on, “Your bond with Levi was stronger than we all realized, and that made your wolf susceptible to the drugs they gave him while Kari—”

  Even though he stops himself, I flinch at the reminder of how Levi was tortured while he’d been held captive here.

  “Anyway.” He clears his throat. “As his wolf was muted by the drugs and the torture, yours was too. Because of your mate bond.”

  Our mate bond. Right.

  I try to take comfort in the fact that no one was poisoning me directly (this time), but all I can think is how much I want that connection with Levi back again. A connection I didn’t even know we shared. One that I severed the moment I publicly accepted Jadick as my fiancé. My future mate.

  “Now, I’m back in,” Tripp says with a shrug, “but I’m on bathroom duty for a month. Your bathroom,” he adds, glancing pointedly at the opulent room that currently smells like vomit and B.O. “Evidently, you’ve been making a mess.”

  My shoulders sag. “I’m sorry,” I say, but he waves me off.

  “Shut up, Mac. Does Jadick know how sick you are?” I simply look at him until he sighs. “Right. Stupid question. And your mom?”

  “Haven’t seen her.”

  He doesn’t say anything else. The silence between us is like a pressure building.


  “He was supposed to rescind the law,” I say, desperation creeping in now. I haven’t spoken aloud about that moment since it happened. Doing it now is like ripping the doors off a house of horrors. “You have to know that’s why I did it. I never would have agreed to marry him without a reason.”

  The anger he walked in here with resurfaces. “The problem is that you think your reason was good enough.”

  “What would you have done?” I shoot back, and he scowls.

  “My point is you always think you have to do it alone.”

  “Look around you. I am alone.”

  He shakes his head. “You didn’t have to be.”

  I look up at him, heart thudding. I have no right to ask, but I can’t help myself. “How is he?” The words are no more than a whisper.

  His expression is carefully blank. “I wouldn’t know.”

  “What do you mean? You’re his best friend—”

  “He disappeared as soon as your little announcement was made. No one’s been able to locate him. Much to Jadick’s irritation.”

  I exhale, relieved that he’s safe. But then I consider Tripp’s words. “He’s out there alone. And probably sick like me.”

  Tripp’s eyes narrow. “And whose fault is that?” I look away. “You took his pack from him, Mac.”

  “Not me. Jadick—”

  “Jadick used you, but it only worked because the Jades trusted you. That betrayal is something you have to live with.”

  I want to argue. To tell him there’s no way; the Jades hate me. But deep down, I know he’s right. I got them here. Even if it was because I promised them Levi. In the end, they followed me. And they did it with the hope I helped kill the moment we were done putting Jadick on his throne.

  “I know,” I say, eyes filling with tears again.

  He gives me a once-over, and while there’s friendship in his gaze, I see disappointment too. I don’t know which one is winning. “When your insides stop trying to get outside, maybe you can get your shit together and make it right again.”

  I start to answer, but then my stomach twists, and it’s all I can do to get over the toilet in time. Tripp holds my hair again. With his other hand, he rubs soothing circles over my back.

  “I don’t deserve it,” I say when I’m back against the wall again.

  “What?” he asks.

  “You being nice to me.”

  “No,” he snorts. “You don’t. But that’s not how friendship works.”

  “Are you my friend?” I ask, hating how vulnerable I sound. But the truth is, if the answer is yes, he goes on a list of exactly one.

  “I’ve always been your friend, Mac. Even when you thought I wasn’t.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Two days later, champagne-colored gauze envelopes me. A full skirt that’s both wispy and confining as hell swishes at my ankles. Beneath the formal dress I’m wearing, strappy heels threaten to bring me down where I stand. After five days of non-stop vomiting, my body is wobbly even without the threat of stilettos. It would be ironic, for sure; surviving so much venom and violence only to be taken out by a pair of shoes.

  Part of me would be glad it’s all over. After all, I’ve rejected my true mate only to chain myself to the most evil, disgusting man I’ve ever known. Condemning my entire pack to a future like the one I’m enduring now. What else is left for me to fuck up, anyway?

  Apparently, this party tonight if this dress is any indication.

  It’s the least “me” thing I’ve ever worn. But I guess that’s fitting. Because I’ve never felt less like myself than I do now.

  “Knock, knock.” A voice at the bedroom door draws my attention, and I look up from where I’m sending my heels a death-stare. Instead, I aim it at my new fiancé, who doesn’t wait for an invitation to let himself in. Jadick is dressed in a black and white tux, his dark hair perfectly styled. Gold cuff links bear the Clemons family crest, a small reminder that his family is embedded into the very fabric of this town like the threads in his coat.

  His eyes light up when he sees me, and he enters the room with all the intimacy of a couple in actual love.

  Bastard.

  “You look stunning,” he says.

  “I look like a prize horse,” I say darkly.

  He chuckles.

  Chuckles.

  Like this is all so amusing.

  I glare at him, considering my options for weaponry. My bedroom is sparsely furnished, though, as if he knows the risks of giving me anything that could cause bodily harm. A hairbrush, plastic with blunt edges. Make-up. A wardrobe some girls would kill for. Me? I’ll kill for a lot of things. Freedom. Love. Morality. Survival. But not clothes.

  The only other item left at my disposal is the clock on the nightstand. It’s a definite option.

  “A stallion, maybe,” Jadick says, still going with my non-joke.

  My glare turns acidic. “Don’t ever call me that again.”

  “We’ll come up with something else,” he says, not bothered in the least by my animosity. “I do like the idea of pet names.”

  “How about I call you ‘dictator’?” I ask with mock sweetness.

  His amusement hardens. “Careful, Mac. Someone might hear you talk like that and question whether or not this is true love.”

  I snort at that. It’s so ridiculous, it doesn’t even deserve an answer.

  He walks up behind me, and our eyes meet in the full-length mirror. His fingers reach for my cheek, but I flinch away. At that, his eye twitches, his gaze narrowing as all traces of a smile vanish.

  “How are you feeling today?”

  Sick.

  Stupid.

  Heartbroken.

  “Empty.”

  “Good.” He beams as if that’s exactly what he’s hoped for. “I need you well and smiling for tonight’s festivities.”

  “And if I throw up on you in the middle of dinner?”

  “You’ll be punished accordingly.”

  I don’t miss the glint in his eye, the sadistic bastard. He wants me to insult him. To give him a reason. He’s made it clear he likes it when I resist him, though how far he’ll take that little game is yet to be determined.

  Something tells me he likes the chase. And that’s exactly why I refuse to run.

  “But I think you’ll behave,” he says, his fingers trailing lightly over my shoulder and down my arm.

  “You obviously don’t know me as well as you think,” I say, rigid against his light touch, “Besides, I thought you picked me for my rebellious spirit.”

  His expression darkens. “Spirit, yes. Rebellion, no.”

  His words trigger my rage, which I suspect is his purpose.

  “You really think you’ve won, don’t you?”

  His brow lifts in silent challenge. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

  “I’m here because it’s the only place I can fight you from. You went back on our deal. You said you’d rescind the law—”

  His hand closes around my throat so fast I have no time to react. He shoves me backward until my shoulders hit the wall with a thud that makes me wince. His eyes are intensely focused, daring me to fight back as he leans in and snarls, “You’re here because I allow it. Because I wish it. Don’t confuse my interest in you for devotion. I’m not some whipped fated mate you can manipulate. I’m not him.”

  “No,” I agree, my mouth moving faster than my brain can stop it. “You’re not half the man Levi is.”

  His hand releases my throat and whips across my cheek.

  The flash of pain is instant and sharp. My face is driven sideways, my hair falling into my eyes. For a moment, I don’t move, absorbing the pain. Paralyzed by the hate that follows.

  “Don’t speak of him again,” he says viciously.

  He strides toward the door, adjusting his jacket as he goes. “I’ll give you a moment to collect yourself before you join me downstairs. Don’t make me come back to retrieve you.”

  Then he’s gone, shutting my bedroom door behind him with a soft click. The sound of it echoes much worse than if he’d slammed it. It’s a reminder he can get to me anywhere. That this house is his, not mine. I’m not safe here. I never will be.

  But I didn’t stay so I could be safe.

  I stayed to fight.

  He might have kissed me, but he won’t keep me.