“And what would a pampered princess of the pack know about monsters?” Saint’s voice caused me to jump.
I didn’t turn, choosing to grab the joint from Eryx, ignoring the asshole behind me. What would a spoiled princess know? I wouldn’t know that answer. I hadn’t felt love since my father killed my mother, not until I’d found out Saint was my mate. I’d worked endlessly to hide what my father had done to me, to hide what happened in the dark, to keep the pack fed. I’d been a child providing for a pack, assisted by many loyal followers who offered the details and suggestions for our daily living to my father as their ideas.
I’d known nothing other than the struggle to provide food, shelter, and everything else a pack needed to live on a mountain range that was impassable for months during winter. This left us rushing through most months, preparing for the roads to close and for us to live off the land. In another month, the snow would hit us, and we’d be stuck on the mountain until the spring thaw came. It was a blessing and a curse. The hunters couldn’t reach us, but we couldn’t escape the cold.
I felt both pairs of eyes on me as I exhaled slowly. Saint snorted, leaning on my other side to reach over, grabbing the joint from me. Peering over at him, I paused as he held it between his teeth, drawing the smoke into his mouth as it wafted around his face.
“You ready to party, Brat? You seem to have started without me,” Saint smirked, lifting his eyes over my head to stare at Eryx.
“Don’t blame me. Brae was out here smoking some weak-ass shit.”
“It wasn’t weak. It just wasn’t pot, asshole. It was herbs, which suppresses my anxiety and stops the alpha tendencies from being uncontrollable. It’s formulated, and we distribute it ourselves. Three people knew I was an alpha until you assholes came back here.”
Both men went silent at my words, and then Saint grabbed my waist. He held me over the edge as he sat me down. Eryx watched with a sinister look in his eyes, excited at the idea of Saint tossing me over the edge. I gripped Saint’s shoulders, but he quickly shrugged me off. His eyes were angry, and the tic was back hammering in his jaw.
“What else have you and your daddy grown up here?” Saint demanded, his eyes condemning me. “I asked you a fucking question,” he snapped, pushing me further over the edge to teeter precariously.
“Nothing!” I cried, turning to look at the drop which would kill even an immortal. “Nothing, Saint! My father didn’t know we grew it. My mother’s people brought the herbs with them from Norway, planting them all over the mountain to increase the alpha’s calmness. It simply suppressed his need to kill everything and the rage that drove it!” I tore my eyes from the ground, looking back at his angry face.
“Why do they always look down? It only increases the fear they feel at dangling over such height,” Eryx asked, pulling off the joint while he enjoyed the show.
Saint jerked me over the railing and shoved me against the wall. His hand pushed against my throat before he turned to Eryx, grabbing the joint to inhale it deeply. Saint grinned and pressed his lips against mine, forcing the smoke into my lungs. He lifted his hand, holding it against my nose and mouth as my lungs burned.
When he finally released me, a deep cough clapped out of my throat, and I tapped my hand against my chest. He turned, nodding his chin to Eryx. “Let’s go. There’s whiskey calling our name, and my sweet, willing mate needs to show the pack she’s eager to be mounted like the whore she is.”
“You’re going to feel like such an asshole,” I muttered, watching as he turned to gaze at me over his shoulder. I smiled inwardly, slowly trailing after them.
Outside, the pack was already drinking, being rowdy, but still cautious for some reason. I lifted my nose, catching the scent of hunters and dark, wicked desire that screamed of demons. Saint grabbed me by the waist, walking me toward a group that stood away from the pack. His crew was there as well, observing as the pack drank and stared back at the hunters.
This was a catastrophe in the making. Hunters lived by strict codes, most of which included hunting down our kind. They didn’t care if we remained away from humans because they thought they were the superior race. Humans didn’t enjoy the fact that they weren’t at the top of the food chain, because more often than not, they were tasty with some added herbs.
Saint pulled me into his body the moment we were in front of his crew and the outsiders. They all looked at me, slowly taking in my features while I remained as still and stiff as a statue. No one spoke, making an awkward silence. I had to bite my tongue to keep from blabbing anything that would fill it since I didn’t do well with strangers or pretty much people in general.
“Have a drink, Braelyn,” Bowen announced, smiling as he pushed a bottle of tequila in front of me.
“Yeah, Princess. Drink with us,” Sian chuckled, grabbing the bottle to pour shots.
My eyes slid to the lone female in the group, taking in her warrior braids while she returned the stare. Her eyes were blue and vibrant with intelligence shining while her mouth twisted in amusement. Judging by the way she watched me, she had already decided I’d look better six feet underground.
“It’s a beautiful place you have here, Braelyn,” a man in his thirties stated.
“Had,” the female inserted, watching me.
“My mother’s people settled here one hundred years ago,” I replied, grabbing the bottle and tossing it back, ignoring the seriously hot demon that observed me silently. I polished off the fifth, setting it down before turning toward Bowen, whose rounded eyes peered over my head. “Come on, Bowen. Don’t let a little pampered bitch out-drink you. Next bottle? I really don’t want to remember tonight, ever.”
Blue eyes speckled with dark flecks locked with mine across the makeshift table. The male’s hair shone in the fire’s light, and the way he watched me felt as if he was accessing every dark sin I’d ever committed. This male didn’t just look at you; he gazed into your soul, slowly picking it apart while you stood there, helpless to look away. His mouth curved into a soft smile, and his gaze released mine as if he hadn’t just fucking dissected me like some wild animal.
“This is Xavier. Xariana is his daughter,” Saint stated, nodding toward the woman and the older gentlemen. “This is Enzo and Ezekiel. They’re…” he paused, turning to look at me with a smile playing on his mouth.
“Hunters and demons, and the one behind him is fae. Which type, I’m uncertain. There are fifty-three hunters, seventeen demons, three witches, and one fae within pack territory. Five hunters are looking at the wolves across from us, wondering which will shift and cause a problem, allowing them to be killed. The answer is simple; none will change because we’re not shifters, unlike the wolf standing at their back. The demons are incubuses. The smell of sex rolling off them gives it away. One is something else, but he has no scent other than the darkness that envelopes him in secrets, but he wants it that way. There are over sixty shifters, each wanting to get their itches scratched, and they really don’t care how they do it. Three totem wolves and five Lycans are within the wolves, hiding their scent among them. In short, you brought a shit-show to the mountain. Am I missing anyone?” My eyes held Saint’s, watching as they narrowed on me in surprise. “I may have grown up in the mountains, but I am not stupid in the ways of shit that can kill us.”