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“Unacceptable. I’ll petition your Alpha for your removal,” Finnick said abruptly.
“What?” I wasn’t certain why he thought my Alpha would listen to him. Had he not paid attention to anything I’d said? “Alpha Callaway set me up for murder, Cityboy. The only way I’m getting out of Southern is by a bid in the Games or killing that asshole.”
“What a bloodthirsty little creature you are. You think you could kill your Alpha?”
“Apparently, my subconscious does.” I shrugged, not at all dismayed by the names he called me. Well, maybe a little. But I’d already known that the truth hurt. “I freaked, like I said. Ran back to the compound. I came upon Luke at the fence when I was trying to re-enter the main pack grounds and murder the Alpha”—I held up a hand to stop their sputtering protests—“and then Luke tore through the wire and messed with my head.” I wasn’t about to drop Luke’s true mate bomb on them.
“Messed with your head?” Glen said slowly. “That doesn’t sound like Luke.”
“How the hell would you… Know what? Never mind. I just need to get into the Games. Del—” I swallowed hard and went on. “Del was going to sign me up for the first night. If I go myself to do it, I’ll be caught and executed before I even have the chance to fight.” I let out a shaky sigh and squared my shoulders.“So that’s what I need, Glenda. I need you to do what Del had planned, and sign me up for the Games. Try to pit me against a super-small shifter, a weak-ass boy, okay? I don’t need to show off—just show up and win one round, right?”
“You, fight in the Games?” Glen let out a disbelieving chuckle. “Princess, you may have a few dirty tricks. I saw you throw dirt in Finnick’s face. But I hate to tell you?—”
“She can fight,” Finnick growled. “She held her own against me for a while. Del trained her for years.”
Glen let out a low whistle. “Is it weird that that kind of turns me on?”
Finnick let out a growl. I just laughed. “Nah, it’s in character, you peeping Tom. Watching me get naked at the stream today was literally the first thing?—”
I didn’t get to finish my sentence, though, as Finnick had jumped on Glen in a half-shifted form and was tearing at his arms and chest.
“What the hell?!” I screamed as the quiet night exploded into violence, the two Heirs suddenly, inexplicably, trying to kill each other.
Or at least, Finnick was. Glen wasn’t fighting all that hard, or shifting like Finnick had. The Northern Heir was just trying to duck and dodge the claws that kept coming. They both moved into a patch of moonlight as they fought, and the blood flowing down Glen’s chest and arms glinted dark and wet.
“Stop, Finn!” Glen yelled, dancing under a blow that could have taken off his scalp. I did see a few strands of golden hair fly loose as he twisted away.
“I tell you I think she might be my mate, and you watch her?” Finnick’s shout came out in a strange, doubled tone, like his wolf and human forms were both pissed.
Wait. Mate? Oh, I do not fucking think so. Not on his very best day, and my worst.
I picked up a rock by my foot and threw it straight at the redhead’s ass. It hit, and he spun around. “Who do you think might be your mate, Cityboy?”
“No one,” Finnick snapped, his jaw working like he had something else to say. He took a few deep breaths, and his fur and claws retracted, leaving the man behind. “I won’t mate. Ever.” He gave me a look that said especially not to someone like you.
Why did my stomach suddenly feel like I’d eaten a bag of rocks? “I hear that,” I said calmly. “And I one hundred percent agree. In fact, I made a vow never to mate.”
They both went quiet, and I wished I could see their faces clearly.
“What if your true mate shows up, and you change your mind?” Glen asked, his voice strained. He pulled off his shirt and used it to casually wipe off the scratches Finnick had given him. It seemed like they were already healing, but his chest still shone in the moonlight. His muscular, nearly hairless chest, with all those acres of moon-silvered skin…
I swallowed hard, casually watching every swipe the shirt made and wishing it were my hands instead.
Wait, what? Who’s the pervert now, Flor?
I ignored his question, and Finnick’s bullshit. “So, will you do it?” I asked. “Redeem your honor and get my name on the list.”
Glen swallowed. “I don’t want to. I think there’s another way out?—”
Panic threatened, and I fought to control my breathing. I didn’t have another workable plan. Not one that didn’t end in my death. “I don’t care. This way, I get to honor Del and his teaching and get a bid at the same time. Just get me in, and I’ll do the rest.”
Finnick stepped up to me. His eyes widened, and he leaned closer, giving me a not-at-all unobtrusive sniff.
“I guess I don’t smell like shit now, huh?” I asked, trying not to let my own nostrils flare as I took in the musk and spice that wafted off him. He smelled every bit as good as Luke had earlier, but more refined somehow. More… intentional.
I wondered if a wolf’s smell revealed something about their personality. My mama had said I smelled like cinnamon the day I was born, but I’d learned in school that a shifter’s scent changed as they matured. “What do I smell like to you?”
Finnick’s jaw dropped. “Uh… uh…”
