28. One More Snake to Skin

28

One More Snake to Skin

FLOR

F or at least a minute, Finnick and I stared into each other's eyes. I should have looked away. Then I might not have seen the too-human regret that replaced his wolf's fierce pride at our connection. Of course, I could still feel it in our bond.

How the hell had we bonded? This was the same guy who'd sworn more than once that I was not his true mate, that he didn't want me. But I could feel his desire in the connection. And his remorse.

"That was a mistake. I shouldn't have done that," he whispered, and each word was a knife that found its target in my heart. "I'm so sorry, Flor."

"No. I bit you first. I'm the one who should apologize," I managed to answer, although it wasn't altogether true. The connection between us felt strong, and right. It was his reaction to it that felt like a donkey kick to my soul.

"How is this possible?" Margarette demanded, breaking the agony of the moment. "Is this because of the magic?"

The magic? Ah, yeah. Finnick had been trapped in the stuff. At least, I thought that's what she meant.

Finnick rolled his eyes, his regular sneer covering his face even before he turned to her. I hated that expression. "Flor's appeal is magical, I'll admit. But you know Flor's bonds are unusual, and even if I would never have chosen— damnit , Brand!"

My wolfy mate had at some point risen and taken a huge bite of Finnick's ass. Finnick dropped me, and I fell onto Brand. My arms and legs wrapped around him, as the scent of Finnick's bloody butt cheek filled the air, and he alternated between cursing Brand and explaining what a mistake he'd made to our hosts.

As if I needed to hear him tell everyone how unworthy I was.

I buried my face in soft, deep fur. "Lake, Brand. I need the lake."

Brand shook himself and began his change right there, in the middle of the room. It was slower than it had been before, but within a minute, he was a man again. A naked, hairy man, who held out his arms to me. "Little flower, let's leave this place. Let's go home."

"I don't have a home," I murmured as I jumped up into his arms. Unlike Finnick, I knew Brand would not put me down, or cast me aside, or let me go. He moved us so his back was to the room, his bulk sheltering me."I didn't mean to. I don't know why I did that, Brand," I tried to explain, but he covered my lips with his, silencing my apology.

"Your wolf knows. She's doing what she is compelled to do." His deep brown eyes went hard as he directed a glare at someone over his shoulder. "As we all must do." He ran his thick fingers over my hair, smoothing it, ignoring everyone around us. "And you will have a home in my pack. They will love you. We never have to leave." He hesitated. "No one really ever does. We keep to ourselves."

I sighed, then let go of him, his reassurances subduing the urge I'd had to flee. There were things I needed to do here first. Injustices to correct… and at least one more snake in the Lodge. Vanessa had not been alone the night before.

I wriggled for Brand to put me down, and he did so reluctantly. "Before we go, where's that bitch, Clara?"

"Dead when I find her," Brand promised.

Glen nodded, picking up his phone and texting. "I've sent Enforcers to round her up." Then he put it down and faced Brand. "Alpha Heir Becker, I would very much appreciate a ride to the border of your packlands."

Brand nodded. "Of course. You'll have to ask my dad for permission to enter Mountain."

"If he'll accept a rogue into your pack, I think I'd like to join." The pain in Glen's reply had my heart aching.

Brand grabbed his arm and pressed his forehead to Glen's, with a whispered, "Brother."

I looked away, my eyes stinging. Alpha Hillier and Margarette were discussing something with Finnick—I made out a few words about a Council meeting, and a possible resolution of war—but it hurt too much to even look at him. My newest mate, though I wasn't at all fucking sure how that had happened.

"Don't you have to knock boots to claim a mate?" I muttered aloud.

Brand stifled a chuckle with a fist. "Normally, yes, my flower. But you are a miracle. The Moon Goddess allows you to break Her rules."

"I wish the Moon Goddess would get me another sandwich. I'm still starved," I grumbled.

Patrick stepped up to us, handing Brand a soft blanket from the sofa. "Brand, go get dressed—you're making the rest of us males feel inadequate. Flor? I'll take you to the kitchen. Then we'll go talk to Clara together."

I smirked. I wasn't planning to talk.I wanted revenge, but the idea of going to the kitchen intrigued me, and for more than sandwiches. I kissed the back of Brand's hand. "Go find clothes and meet us there? Don't kill her without me."

He grumbled, unhappy to leave my side, but when I explained I'd have to gouge out the eyes of any woman who saw him naked, he smiled and jogged away. I'd set my sword down when I came in, and I picked it back up, tucking it into the sheath on my belt, my steak knife on the other side.

"Thank you, Flor," Patrick said in a low voice after we left the room.

"Don't thank me. You're the one taking me to get a sandwich."

He let out an exasperated breath. "No, thank you for shining a light on the festering wounds in my pack. I've been fighting to make someone see that just because someone isn't ranked, that doesn't necessarily mean they lack power, or skills." He waved at me, as if my existence proved his point. "Rank shouldn't just be based on physical prowess, either. There are more important things. Integrity, talent, compassion…"

His voice got louder as we walked, but the kitchen door opened in front of us, and a dark-haired girl stepping out with a platter of sausage rolls had him stopping, his hand on my arm, like I might need protecting. "What are you doing here?"

I recognized her; it was the girl from the ranking fight, the one who'd been happy that Stan had choked. She nodded to me. "I'm not regular Lodge help, but they needed hands. I was bringing food to the family sitting room, wherever that is."

Her hazel eyes flashed as she took in Patrick's hand on my arm. If looks could kill, I'd be bleeding from a mortal wound already. A slightly charred scent filled the air, like burning paper.

Huh. I took a small step away from him. The girl—she couldn't have been more than eighteen, probably not old enough to have shifted—relaxed.

"Hey, Patrick, why don't you help her? Those rolls look heavy."

He practically jumped to take the rolls from the girl. Their hands brushed, and the hallway filled with electricity. The girl stopped breathing for a moment. Patrick's breath, on the other hand, came too fast. Their scents grew thick, their eyes fixed on each other.

Holy shit. I had a feeling Patrick had just found his true mate.

"Kristin." Patrick breathed the name like a prayer. "Your name is Kristin, right?"

She just narrowed her eyes and yanked her hand away. Her fingers flew instead to the band of leather around her neck. "Does my name matter? I'm nobody." Patrick stared at the collar now, like he wanted to tear it off.It was the same way Brand looked at my ear tag.

"Patrick, why don't you help Kristin find the sitting room?" I suggested, fighting a laugh when she shook her head slightly at me. "I'll get some hot food in the kitchen."

He didn't even blink. Maybe he couldn't. "Uh, are you sure?"

"Yep," I answered, already halfway through the swinging door.

The kitchen staff should have been used to seeing me in there—I'd made a habit of hanging out there, getting to know the house staff as well as the cook, since the kitchen felt like a second home to me after my job at Southern. But when I walked in, all their jaws dropped.

The maid I knew best, Marla, rushed over and engulfed me in a too-tight hug. "By the moon, I'm glad to see you. If anything happened to you, I would have burned this Lodge to the ground." A few of the others shushed her, but she shook her head. "It's true! This pack is fucked, and it's because nobody stops those ranked assholes from getting everything they want."

I glanced around. I'd never been in the kitchen alone, and I realized this was the place the unranked gathered and spoke freely. And they were finally welcoming me into their group. All it took was getting abducted.

"I think a lot of the fuckery may change now," I said as I climbed up on a stool. "I may have told the Alpha how the cow ate the cabbage. There's at least one Alpha command that's getting rolled back. Rank testing won't be a fairytale anymore."

They all stared, like I'd just announced Santa Claus was coming. "According to who?" Marla managed to ask.

"Ah, that would be Patrick and Glen. But your Alpha will probably find himself with no Heirs left, if he doesn't listen to them about it."

At some point, the head cook had placed a huge bowl of beef stew in front of me, tutting about how she'd just started fattening me up, and I'd gone and lost precious weight. The other staff hung about, eavesdropping.

Marla handed me a basket of rolls to go with my quart of stew. "Seriously, Flor. I would have never forgiven myself or them if you hadn't come back safe. When I saw those bitches in the hallway last night, I knew they were up to something." I ate while she recounted everything that had happened since that moment.

I slid off my stool, now ready to find Clara and tear out her throat, but the door to the servants' hallways opened behind me, and the kitchen began to fill. In seconds, the room was packed with unranked shifters, some of them sporting still-healing wounds from the explosion, but all of them wearing identical expressions.

I knew the emotion. It was hope.