Wild Card

  I let go of his hand. Then I stepped forward. “Is the vote limited to two candidates?” I blurted out.

  Every head in the room turned my way, and the sudden, mostly disapproving attention of ten—no, eleven—Alphas at once felt like an iron weight on my chest. Like breathing was suddenly impossible.

  “No.” Ed Taylor fixed his weighty scowl on me. “But the candidate pool is restricted to members of the council. Which you are not among.”

  Nervous laughter burst from my throat. “I wasn’t thinking of running. That’s ridiculous, of course. I was just…curious.”

  Faythe gave me a perplexed frown, and I quickly—pointedly—glanced at one of her fellow Alphas. She followed my gaze, and her eyes widened. But I wasn’t sure she was following my train of thought until she stood, abruptly. As if something had just bitten her. “If the vote isn’t limited to two candidates, I’d like to nominate a third.”

  Ed Taylor’s scowl darkened. “What—”

  “Jerold Pierce.”

  “What?” Pierce’s surprise was almost comical.

  Marc nodded, clearly catching on. “That makes sense. Jerold, you’re one of our senior members, and the fact that you’re a frequent swing vote means that you’re pretty middle-of-the-road, politically.”

  “So, will you run?” Faythe asked, while Rick Wade frowned at her in obvious confusion.

  Pierce shrugged. “Well, I guess that couldn’t hurt.”

  Faythe’s smile lit up her face. “Then it’s settled. Rick, I think we’re ready to call for the votes. And I think we should start with Pierce, as the latest addition to the candidate pool.”

  Ed Taylor’s face turned scarlet. His mouth opened as if he’d object, but before he could figure out how, Wade cleared his throat. “All in favor of recognizing Jerold Pierce as council chair, please raise your hands.

  Pierce’s hand went up immediately, and I exhaled in relief. If he voted for himself, he couldn’t vote for Ed Taylor. Which Taylor clearly realized.

  For a second, poor Pierce’s was the only hand up. He looked pretty embarrassed. Then Nick Davidson shifted in his chair, and his hand rose slowly into the air. Followed by Wes Gardner’s.

  “That’s three for Jerold Pierce,” Wade said. “All for Ed Taylor?”

  Ed raised his hand, his face crimson with fury. Milo Mitchell and Robert Taylor followed suit, and Ed turned a pointed look at Titus. Who returned his stare calmly. With his hands still folded on the table.

  “That’s three for Ed Taylor,” Rick Wade announced, relief clear in his voice. He’d obviously done the math. “All in favor of me continuing to serve as council chair?”

  Faythe raised her hand for the South-Central Pride. Isaac Wade and Bert Di Carlo raised their hands. Then Rick Wade voted for himself, and he’d officially won. Titus’s vote wasn’t necessary. But he raised his hand anyway—staring right at Ed Taylor.

  “Looks like it’s official!” Wade sank into his chair with obvious relief. “It will be my honor to continue to serve.”

  Twenty

  Justus

  “You are brilliant!” I whispered as I tugged Kaci into her bedroom and closed the door at my back. “Also, you’re beautiful. Have I ever mentioned that you’re beautiful?” I pressed her against the wall with my body and nibbled on the back of her jaw, just beneath her ear. “And delicious,” I murmured against her skin. “How did you know that would happen?”

  She giggled. Then she purred, deep in her throat, as she ran her hands over the front of my shirt. “I didn’t know for sure, but I figured most people would vote for themselves, if they were nominated. And Pierce’s was the vote I couldn’t be sure of, so I thought we should try to take him out of play entirely. But I truly had no idea Davidson or Gardner would vote for him too.”

  “You totally split the vote.” I ran one hand into her hair. The only thing sexier than Kaci Dillion, it turned out, was Kaci Dillion working to save my life.

  “Yeah, I guess I did.” She looked pretty pleased with herself, and the confidence—well deserved—made her even hotter.

  “Hey—” The door lurched forward, throwing Kaci into me, and Faythe made a startled noise from the other side.

  Kaci pulled me away from the door and opened it. “Sorry,” she said as our Alpha stepped inside.

  Faythe glanced at me, then at Kaci’s disheveled hair. Then she pushed the door closed. “The recess is about over. I just wanted to…” She frowned. “That was…”

  “Brilliant?” I suggested.

  “Yes. Exactly.” Faythe smiled, and she looked…proud. “I had no idea you had such a politically savvy mind!”

  “Me neither,” Kaci admitted.

  I shrugged. “I knew.” They both turned to me, and Kaci actually rolled her eyes. “Seriously. I knew from that phone call you made to Taylor the other day. No, wait, from the one you made to Faythe, while we were on the way to the airport!”

  “What?” Faythe turned on her. “Well, I guess in retrospect, you were playing me.”

  “Like a fiddle,” I agreed, and Kaci elbowed me. “What? I meant it as a compliment.”

  “Manipulating one’s Alpha isn’t generally considered a positive trait, but…well done out there,” Faythe finished. “No matter how the rest of this plays out, you’ve given Justus a much better shot than he had going into this whole thing.”

  “So, what’s the plan?” I asked as I slid my arm around Kaci’s waist.

  Faythe shrugged. “Our only real option is to try to put together a tribunal that will at least give you a fair trial.”

  “What are the chances we’ll be able to do that?” I asked.

  “Well, we’re going to try for a redraw of just Paul Blackwell’s seat, so that we don’t risk losing Di Carlo’s vote in your favor.”

  “But that means we’ll also keep Ed Taylor’s vote against him,” Kaci said.

  Faythe nodded. “Unfortunately, it also means we risk drawing Robert’s name.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “That hardly seems fair, considering what they tried to do.”

  “It isn’t fair,” Kaci insisted. “Especially considering that Faythe, Marc, and Titus have to recuse themselves, even though they didn’t do anything wrong.”

  Excitement shot through me, and I grabbed Kaci’s hand as I turned to Faythe. “I might have an idea about how to even the field…”

  * * *

  “For our last order of business in what’s turned out to be a longer-than-expected evening, we need to fill the empty space left on the tribunal by Paul Blackwell’s death.” Rick Wade looked particularly satisfied by his position at the head of the table. And the truth was that I was kind of happy for him, despite my belief that—as council chair—he should have been able to anticipate the Taylors’ mutiny. “Faythe has asked that we keep the rest of the tribunal intact, so if there are no objections to that…?”

  All eyes turned to Ed Taylor, but he remained silent. Of course he wasn’t going to object, because if they redrew the entire tribunal, he’d likely lose his spot on it.

  “Actually…” Several surprised faces turned toward Faythe. “We’ve decided we’d like to redraw both Blackwell’s seat and Ed Taylor’s seat.”

  “What? On what grounds?” Taylor demanded, his hands fisted on the table.

  “On the grounds that you have an unfair bias against me,” I blurted out.

  Marc gave me a subtle but firm shake of his head. I knew it wasn’t wise to butt in, unacknowledged by the council, but my life was at risk!

  “Yes,” Faythe said, drawing their attention away from me. Then she turned to my brother. “Titus?”

  Titus cleared his throat. “Two days ago, Ed Taylor called to offer me his vote in Justus’s favor, in exchange for my vote to help him unseat Rick Wade as council chair. He said he’d formed an alliance with his brother and that if I didn’t help them, they’d vote to execute my brother.”

  “This is ridiculous!” Taylor stood, his face flaming.

&n
bsp; Faythe actually rolled her eyes. “Sit down, Ed. Titus told us about the ‘deal’ you proposed just hours after you called him. Titus, Marc, Rick and I all knew coming into this meeting that you’d call for a revote on the council chair.”

  “It’s true,” Rick Wade said. “Don’t dig yourself any deeper by lying.”

  “It’s not against the rules to form alliances,” Taylor insisted.

  “No, though if there’s nothing in our bylaws prohibiting you from buying votes, there should be,” Faythe said. “Either way, it’s pretty obvious that since Titus didn’t take your deal, you’ll be out to get Justus. Which means you have no business on the tribunal. I make a motion to remove Ed Taylor from the tribunal. And to remove Robert from consideration.”

  “Seconded,” Titus said.

  “All in favor?” Rick asked. Nine hands rose around the table. Only the Taylors declined to vote. “Motion carried. We will now be replacing both Ed Taylor and Paul Blackwell on the tribunal, through the traditional random draw. Faythe, Marc, Titus, Ed, and Robert are all excluded. As is Bert, since he’s already on the tribunal.”

  Faythe set a plastic cup in the middle of the dining room table. “Coins in.”

  Each of the Alphas who hadn’t been excluded stood and dug a coin from his pocket. “Quarters?” I whispered to Kaci. But they looked a little big for quarters. And they were copper, rather than silver.

  “Territory coins,” she whispered back. “Each one is engraved with the shape of the territory. They only use them to make quick work of drawing names, but they’re kind of a status symbol, passed from Alpha to Alpha as they retire. Or die, in Blackwell’s case.” She shrugged. “I guess Titus will have to get one made.”

  Six Alphas dropped their coins into the cup, and Faythe shook it. “Bert, why don’t you draw?” Faythe held the cup out to him.

  Di Carlo reached inside without looking, and plucked out a coin. He held it up between his forefinger and thumb, so everyone around the table could see. “Wes Gardner. Great Lakes territory.”

  I glanced at Kaci to confirm what I was pretty sure I knew, and she gave me a small shake of her head. Gardner was not a friendly vote.

  My chest felt tight as Faythe shook the cup again. The next coin pulled would determine whether I lived or died. Again, that fact seemed so infuriatingly arbitrary.

  Di Carlo plucked another coin from the cup without looking. He showed it to the table, but I was too far away to make out the shape on the coin. “Isaac Wade. Appalachian territory.”

  Kaci’s breath burst from her lungs in a sob of relief. Faythe gave her a smile. And slowly, my fate sank in. Isaac was Rick’s son. Abby’s brother. Jace’s brother-in-law. Faythe’s cousin and ally. He was a friendly vote.

  Even if the tribunal found me guilty, I was going to live.

  Ed Taylor stomped from the room without a word. Robert followed him.

  Faythe and her allies were all smiles. Titus looked…jubilant. Relieved.

  Despite the fact that not a single vote had been cast—that my trial hadn’t even started—it was evidently widely assumed that my fate had already been determined. My testimony would merely be a formality. As would the vote.

  “Thank you, gentlemen—and Faythe.” Rick Wade beamed at the room in general. “The tribunal will convene in Montana tomorrow for Justus’s trial. Any interested party is welcome to attend, but I want to remind you that spectators are not allowed to speak during the trial. I will see you all there! Dismissed.”

  Kaci threw her arms around me, and I squeezed her so tightly I wasn’t sure she could actually breathe. “Thank you,” I whispered into her hair. “Thank you so much.”

  “I didn’t really do anything,” she said, her face pressed against my chest.

  “Bullshit. You did everything.” I let her go so that I could kiss her, and when we came up for air, I found my brother watching us from a few feet away, a smile hovering beneath his typically stern expression.

  “Kaci.” Titus took her hand. “I’m so sorry for what I did. I have no excuse, other than that I was scared for Justus’s life, and the only way I could see to save him was to make him give you up. I hope you can forgive me.”

  “I forgive you.” She smiled as she held her hand up to show off her ring. “I did something stupid to save him too.”

  I laughed and slid my arm around her waist.

  “Welcome to the family, Kaci,” Titus said.

  “So, we can…be married for real?” She looked up at me with hope shining in her eyes.

  “Whoa, whoa, wait a minute.” Marc crossed the room in three steps. “Maybe we could talk about an annulment, then a long engagement?”

  “I wasn’t asking you,” she informed him. Then she turned back to me, grinning. “So? Are you going to make me propose twice?”

  “That is tempting,” I teased. “But no. We’re already married for real.”

  “You know what I mean,” she whispered. As if the room full of shifters with super-powered hearing couldn’t hear her. “I want to be married for real.”

  “I know what you mean, and they do to,” I stage-whispered back.

  “Okay, I’m out.” Marc plucked his glass from the table and drained it in one gulp. Then he kissed Faythe on his way out of the room. “You let me know how that turns out. I’m going to check on the boys.”

  “I’ll come with you,” she said, shooting a meaningful look at my brother. “Titus, you’re on chaperone duty. I have to get us packed for tomorrow.”

  “We should pack too,” Kaci said as her hand curled around mine. “If we’re actually going to show up for your trial.”

  “We are.” I was ready to get it over with. To accept whatever non-lethal punishment they handed out, so I could get on with my life. With my marriage.

  But Titus seemed to read my thoughts in my expression. “I’ll help you pack,” he said. “And I better not find any of your laundry in her hamper.”

  Twenty-One

  Kaci

  The Montana wilderness was gorgeous. I hadn’t really noticed that during my first visit. Of course, back then I’d been stuck in cat form and literally starving. Which meant that Justus’s trial had at least two advantages over Faythe’s trial. For me, anyway.

  For Justus, not so much.

  The wooden porch steps creaked beneath me as I sat and stared out at the woods. The cabin at my back was the same one I’d stayed in with Faythe and her family after they’d found me in the woods. It was the same one they’d been staying in when Greg was murdered. I wasn’t with them on that trip, but it was hard not to imagine it as I stared out over the grounds where he’d been shot.

  But this trip was about Justus.

  About justice.

  About moving past his trial so we could get on with the rest of our lives.

  I hadn’t expected to be nervous. The votes were on our side. No matter what happened, Justus would live, and eventually I’d be able to convince everyone that they had no right to keep us from truly enjoying our marriage.

  Eventually they’d let us be alone in a room together. Assuming Justus’s sentence didn’t get in the way.

  It was entirely possible, according to Michael, that they would sentence him to “jail time.” Which basically meant locking him up in someone’s basement. Or they could take his claws.

  Logically, I knew that taking his claws would be worse, because it was more permanent and would affect his ability to protect himself. But jail time would keep us apart…

  The front door of the cabin squealed open at my back, and the scent of coffee wafted over me as the rapid-fire cadence of little Greg’s footsteps thumped toward me.

  “Kaci!”

  “Hey, munchkin!” Before he could trip down the steps, I grabbed him around the waist and hauled him into my lap. “What ‘cha got?”

  “Fris-bee!” He clutched the plastic disk to his chest and struggled to free himself from my grip.

  Laughing, I set him on the grass, and he toddled off with his t
oy.

  “He found it in the coat closet,” Faythe said as she sank onto the step next to me and handed me one of the two mugs she held. “How are you holding up?”

  “Waiting sucks.” I took a sip from my mug. The coffee was sweeter than I usually took it, but you don’t complain when your Alpha brings you coffee.

  “I know. I remember.” For a few minutes, we watched Greg try to throw the Frisbee. Nine times out of ten, he hurled it straight at his own feet.

  “Where’s the baby?” I asked, cradling the mug in both hands. I wasn’t cold, but the warmth was still comforting.

  “Napping. In Marc’s arms. If we put him down in a strange bed, he wakes up screaming. My mom calls it ‘electric sheet syndrome.’”

  “I know.” None of us had gotten much sleep in the two days we’d been in the mountains.

  “This is what marriage is like, Kaci.” Faythe sipped from her mug. “Marriage is kids—if you want them—and messes, and sleep deprivation, and compromise, and seeing each other go to the bathroom. It’s cleaning up vomit at three am. It’s all-night fever watches, and coffee breath, and arguing over who was supposed to pay the electric bill.”

  I shrugged. “Yeah, but it’s also making out on your desk when you think no one’s looking.”

  Faythe’s brows rose. “Marriage for shifters is also being comfortable enough in your relationship to be okay with the fact that there’s very little privacy.”

  “I know you’re trying to scare me away from Justus, but I want all of those things. Well, not all of them. But I’m willing to deal with the vomit and the open bathroom door if I get all the rest of it. With him.”

  She sighed. “I’m not trying to scare you away from Justus. I just want you to understand what you’re getting into. The reality, not the whirlwind trip to Vegas and the huge ring. And I want you to understand that even if you stay married, there’s no rush for kids. You can and should still go to school first. As should he. You should figure out who you are as individuals—and as a couple—before you start making brand new people. Eighteen is really young, Kaci.”