Don’t feel well.
What did it mean that her wolf felt ill? The Aunts’ knowledge rushed into her head.
She closed her eyes first against the surge and then to block out what the Aunts had known about the ritual failing. Ashlee hadn’t accessed this particular data earlier, or maybe she hadn’t wanted to know, which she silently admitted was more likely the case.
The truth was that once a shifter invoked the powers that created them, the only outcomes were success in the spell, or death by it.
Ashlee failed to save Tristan. She hadn’t been powerful enough, and now she would die. She looked down at her hands. They shook violently. Tears welled up in her eyes at the unfairness of this outcome. Fate had brought them together to separate them so soon?
Would death this way be painful? She wished she could reach out and grab Tristan, feel his arms around her as she faded away. Ashlee closed her eyes to touch Tristan’s soul. It was still there, still intact. He wouldn’t blame her for what happened; she could feel that in that part of him that she carried.
Somewhere in the distance she heard voices raised in alarm. One of them was distinctly Tristan’s, the other her mother’s. Ashlee couldn’t be sure but she thought she might have heard her sister yelling too. She raised her head to try to look at all of them, but everything was a blur.
She closed her eyes. What happened to the person who failed at the spell? Did they get to meet their mate in the next life or was it eternal suffering? Ashlee hit the ground hard, unable even to muster the strength needed to break her fall. The dirt felt cool. It soothed her until blackness surrounded her every thought.
Tristan watched in horror as Ashlee hit the ground. Whatever she’d done, it had cleared his head, and for however long that lasted, he wasn’t going to waste time. Inside, his wolf howled in alarm, desperate for the shift, dying to save his mate. Agony marred the muscles straining to change the form of his muscular body, as his mind fought to keep the inner beast caged. Tristan held him back; there was nothing his wolf could do right now.
He turned to the pack that stood in horror around the sacred circle. Looks of terror showed on their faces. Ashlee’s mother wept, held up by a young woman who looked so much like Victoria, Tristan had to assume it was Ashlee’s younger sister.
He ran to the edge of the circle, directly in front of Victoria, cognizant of the fact that he couldn’t cross the stones without risking danger to everyone. “What was she trying to do?”
Victoria sniffed. “She called on the pack magic to clear you of your spell but it must not have worked.”
Tristan felt slightly better, but yes, Victoria was right, he wasn’t clean. He could feel the madness, like worms crawling all over his body, start to take hold of his consciousness again.
Tristan shook his head. “Why didn’t it work?” His heart pounded in his chest. He wanted to run to Ashlee, to scoop her up in his arms, but if the spell resurfaced he couldn’t trust himself to be close to her.
Michael cleared his throat. “The pack is weak. Their magic, our magic, isn’t strong enough for what she needed.” His brother’s face was raw, his voice strained. This was going to eat Michael up alive.
Tristan stared at Michael. His brother was a good man; he had trained as a warrior, and his wolf was strong, but he was a terrible leader. He hadn’t been the first of their brothers to stand up against their father. Instead he had hoped for a peaceful outcome. As it was, he still couldn’t decide on a course of action to attack IPAG. He didn’t have the stomach for the Alpha job; he would do better as an advisor.
They’d all been trying to tell him. But he hadn’t listened. It seemed so clear now.
Tristan knew what he had to do, and he knew he didn’t have much time to get to it done.
He stepped to the center of the circle. “I am Alpha of this pack.” His voice sounded strong, and inside of him his wolf howled in delight. Yes, this felt right. The pack needed a strong leader, and it was him. He’d survived months in a wolf cage and managed to hold off the spell of a witch that had ended the lives of countless others. Ashlee made him strong. He could endure anything. For her, he would lead the pack in the direction it needed to go.
“Who would challenge me?” Tristan, like every trained member of the Westervelt pack, knew there needed to be a challenge to solidify the claim of leadership. The Alpha ritual required a challenge. Tristan looked around the group and awaited the announcement of his opponent, fully expecting Michael to step forth. His eldest brother cleared his throat and opened his mouth. Tristan cringed. He didn’t want to fight Michael.
In the past, the challenger frequently died as the Alpha fury overtook the two opponents.
Michael never got the chance to continue.
From behind the group, Cullen stepped forward. “I challenge you.” The most feared shifter alive, the oldest of them all, his father’s enforcer stepped forward. Tristan watched as Cullen handed a cup full of liquid to Theo and then crossed the stones to enter the circle. Down the side of Cullen’s face were five bloody scratches that looked to have been made by someone’s nails as they’d dug into Cullen’s skin.
Tristan had a moment to register that the rocks had let him pass unharmed. He was the rightful challenger. Cullen could never be Alpha, not even if he beat Tristan in this fight. His blood was not royal. It did not hold enough magic. There was only one reason Cullen would undertake a battle he couldn’t win—he wanted to lose. Oh, Tristan knew Cullen would fight until he had no breath left in him, he wouldn’t let Tristan beat him on purpose. But if Tristan won, and he intended to, this would be Cullen’s out, his ritual suicide without the ritual. Tristan could respect that he wanted to die this way. It was a warriors’ out.
The blood inside of Tristan started to heat. It only took a moment. Tristan could feel the shift and play of his muscles and bones shifting beneath his heated skin, the beast growling in its delight to fight. He was ready to fight Cullen to the death, bloody though it would be. Cullen craved death; Cullen would have the death he desired and deserved as the warrior he was.
“Mother, what’s happening?” Ashlee’s sister called out in fear, and Tristan heard Victoria soothe her.
“It’s the Alpha challenge, Summer. It will be okay. Tristan’s going to save Ashlee.
He’s going to save us all.”
Cullen’s head whipped to the side, his eyes wide, shocked. Tristan followed his gaze as he stared at Summer. Recognition hit Tristan hard—Cullen Murphy had just found his mate and it was Ashlee’s sister. Tristan remembered the crazed feeling well, the insanity that held him for a moment when he’d realized he’d finally met his other half, the peacefulness that had immediately followed that knowledge.
In any other circumstance, he might have let Cullen out of the challenge, but not today, not while Ashlee lay dying. She was his first priority. Only by performing the challenge could he claim the Alpha position, and thereby save Ashlee with the pack’s true magical force. His only chance was get Cullen to back down.
Tristan called the shift onto himself and leapt onto Cullen, who was still in his human form. His wolf howled. He didn’t like Cullen still so weak, so distracted. Cullen shifted faster than Tristan had ever seen done before and snarled at Tristan as he flung Tristan’s wolf from his body. Cullen‘s wolf was gigantic. He stood heads over the others and dwarfed Tristan whose wolf was certainly not small. Tristan stared at Cullen’s brown wolf and felt the Alpha fury fill him. He was Alpha and this underling had dared challenge him.