Will You?

CHASE

***

Two Months Ago

***

I saw a ghost today.

The ghost of someone who was supposed to be dead but was suddenly very much alive, standing across from me on the battlefield. Even after so many years, I’d recognize her anywhere. She was my mother, after all.

I watched as her eyes flashed in recognition, the realization of who I was coming to her. Then those same eyes went cold, because even though she knew, she evidently didn’t care. We were on opposing sides of a war and in that moment, I wasn’t her son. I was merely another enemy to eliminate.  

She tried to kill me. My own mother.

He gave his life to stop her. My father.

Now they’re both dead and I’m left with nothing.

No parents. No family. Just a gaping fucking wound in my chest where my heart used to be.

I sat at the complex for hours afterwards, struggling to make sense of everything. I heard that we won the war by taking out the shadow pack’s leader, but I felt nothing. No sense of relief or joy. Just complete numbness.

When I could no longer take the overwhelming emptiness consuming my soul, I shifted into my wolf and took to the forest instead. I was out there all night, wandering around aimlessly, still trying to make it make sense. When I couldn’t, I came back to the packhouse in Norbury- the home that I shared with my dad. I stumbled inside in the early morning, heading straight for Rob’s office.

Rob is my dad’s Beta. Was. My dad was our pack’s Alpha, a title that transferred to me upon his death. So I guess Rob’s my Beta, now; my second in command. He also lives at the packhouse, and if anyone can shed some light on how the hell my mother somehow came back to life and joined the shadow pack, it’s him. Dad and Rob were so close that they were practically brothers. If Dad had secrets, Rob’s bound to know them.

The first pale rays of light filter in through the windows, casting an eerie light over the minimal furnishings in Rob’s office. As expected, he’s sitting in the sleek leather chair behind his cold metal desk. He’s always been an early riser and starts every day in this office. His hands are folded atop his desk, his head bowed, back hunched. I step into the doorway and lean a shoulder against the frame, shoving my hands into my hoodie pocket and glaring at Rob from underneath my hood. “Did you know?”

He lifts his head, bloodshot eyes meeting mine. Then his dry lips part, his voice coming out as a hoarse whisper. “Chase, I…”

I cut him off with a growl. “Did you know?” I repeat, louder this time, venom dripping from my tone. My hands curl into fists inside my pocket, body trembling with confused emotion.

Rob heaves a sigh, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He gestures to the chair opposite his desk. “Have a seat.”

***

Present Day

***

“Wake up…” a sing-songy voice calls, curling its way inside my dreams and gently pulling me out of a deep sleep.

I blink against the harsh light streaming in through the window of my bedroom, throwing an arm over my eyes to block it out.

“Chase…” the voice calls again, sugary sweet in its inflection. I feel weight shift on the bed beside me before fingertips land on my bare stomach, tracing the hard lines of my abs. Then there’s movement on the opposite side of the bed, another soft hand cruising across my chest.

My senses start to come back to me as I wake. The first thing I notice is how fucking bad my head hurts right now- I outdrank my shifter healing last night and I’m paying for it this morning with a wicked hangover. The second is the foul smell trapped in this room; it reeks of stale alcohol, sex, and regret. And the third…

I lower my arm from my face, eyes fighting the light again as I clock the two naked girls in bed with me, one on either side. A petite little blonde and a leggy brunette. Total opposites, because drunk me has a healthy appetite for pussy and doesn’t have a type. 

Sober me, on the other hand…

I sit up abruptly, fighting a headrush as I brush the girls’ hands off of me in disgust and scooch down to the foot of the bed, swinging my legs off the end. My head starts throbbing harder in response to my sudden movements and I drop it into my hands, squeezing my eyes shut, willing the pain to abide.

A soft hand slides onto my shoulder from behind and I flinch at the contact, shrugging it off instantly. “Get the fuck out.”

Neither girl moves- hell, it seems like they don’t even breathe, but every second they remain in my space is a second too long.

I push off the bed and rise to my feet, turning over my shoulder to see the little blonde on her knees in the center, staring up at me with wide-eyed innocence. Given her cherubic features, I’d almost buy the whole sweet and innocent act if she didn’t just wake up in the wolf’s den.  

“Now,” I snarl at her, teeth bared.

The blonde is a member of my pack, but I’m drawing a blank when it comes to her name. Not that it matters. She startles at my tone and scampers to the edge of the bed, while the brunette, on the other hand, seems only more emboldened by this exchange. Her name’s Stasia, and no matter how many times I throw her out of here, she keeps coming back. Girl’s a glutton for punishment.  

“Chaaaase,” Stasia whines, drawing it out in an awful nasal tone that makes me hate the sound of my own name. She tosses her hair back, thrusting out her lower lip in an exaggerated pout.

I cringe and turn away as I yank a pair of boxers up my hips, then rub the sleep from my eyes. I’m too tired to deal with this shit.

Stasia doesn’t give up easily, though- instead, she stands from the bed and pads over to me, tits bouncing. “I know what you need,” she smirks, batting eyelashes that are clumped together with mascara from the night before. She licks her lips suggestively and starts sinking to her knees in front of me.

Before both of her knees can hit the carpet I reach out and fist her hair, yanking her back up as she stumbles to find her footing. I lean my face down to hers, Stasia’s hazel eyes crossing from the close proximity. “I said get the fuck out,” I growl, shoving her away.

She finally takes the hint.

“You’re an asshole,” Stasia mutters while she collects her clothes from the floor. As if I give a fuck what she thinks of me. “C’mon, Britt.”

That’s the blonde’s name- Brittany. Her father was one of my dad’s advisors, so technically I guess he’s one of mine now. Wonder if he knows his little angel turns into a slut after a few Jell-o shots.

Stasia and Britt hastily throw on their clothes and scamper out of my room like frightened mice. I tug on a pair of grey sweats that ride low on my hips and a black hooded sweatshirt, listening for the girls to make their exit from the packhouse before emerging from the solitude of my bedroom.

It used to be my dad’s- the master suite, reserved for the alpha. When he died, I automatically inherited his title, so it made sense for me to also move into the largest room in the packhouse. I had every trace of him removed first, down to the furniture. Then I had the walls painted black and new furniture brought in- all sleek and modern, cold and impersonal. It doesn’t even look lived in, but that’s how I like it. The room now feels as empty as I do. Though despite the fact that I’ve scrubbed him completely from this room, I swear I still feel my dad’s ghost lurking in here sometimes.  

If he’s watching, he’s probably judging.

I make my way downstairs where the cleaning crew is already working to scrub away the evidence of the rager I threw here last night. Plastic cups and empty liquor bottles litter every surface and empty kegs float in tubs of water near the back door, the ice long melted. It fucking reeks down here, too- even worse than my room. The stale beer smell lingering in the air almost makes me retch.

“Well good morning,” I hear Rob’s voice greet from somewhere behind me, rolling my eyes at the condescension in his tone.

I swing around to face him, rolling a joint around in my fingers and plucking a lighter off of an end table. “Is it?”

Rob frowns in disapproval as I bring the joint to my lips and light the end, the paper crackling. I keep my eyes trained on his as I inhale slowly, sweet marijuana smoke burning my throat and filling my lungs.

“You’ve gotta stop throwing these parties.”

I take another pull from the joint, staring down at it as I blow out the smoke and watch the paper curl and burn with orange embers, tempted to touch it. “Says who?

Rob doesn’t immediately respond, just shifts his body weight uncomfortably in the tense silence until I finally look up at him again, narrowing my eyes in challenge. “I’m Alpha, so the way I see it, I can do whatever the fuck I want to.”

He narrows his eyes back at me but doesn’t say a fuckin’ word. The two of us have done this song and dance many times over the past couple months. It’s like Rob’s trying to parent me in my dad’s absence, but there’s just one problem- he’s not my father. That, and I outrank him, so I don’t have to listen to a goddamn word he says.

“Gray’s here, it’d be nice if you came in and sat with him for a while today,” he finally mutters as I take another pull from the joint before stubbing it out on a coaster.

“Yeah, maybe,” I say dismissively, waving him off. I pick up a liquor bottle from the side table, still about a quarter of the way full of amber whiskey. I give Rob a nod as I dangle the bottle from my fingers, heading over to one of the black leather couches scattered around the living room and slumping down onto it as Rob retreats to his office.

I’ve got a big enough headache this morning without Rob riding me about what I should or shouldn’t be doing. Like I don’t already know I should be sitting in with Gray to learn about the day-to-day duties I’ll take on as Alpha. Gray has his own pack to run, but he’s been over here regularly to help keep ours afloat since my dad was killed, trying to act as a mentor to me or some shit. I should let him. I should take him up on his offers to teach me the ropes. Trouble is, I just don’t fucking care.

I bring the liquor bottle to my lips and take a pull, the whiskey burning as it slips down my throat. Since this headache isn’t going away on its own, I may as well try a little hair of the dog. I zone out with the liquor bottle in hand, taking lazy pulls from it as the cleanup crew continues to work around me.

A knock sounds out and I look toward the front door of the packhouse, willing whoever it is to just go away and leave me the fuck alone. If it was someone from my pack, they’d just walk their happy ass right inside- so the fact that they’re knocking tells me it’s someone I don’t know or don’t want to deal with.

Another knock comes, louder this time. I glance toward the hall that houses the offices, waiting to see if Rob is going to come answer this door. Maybe he’s expecting someone. He doesn’t come out of his office, though, and the knocking increases in persistence, my headache throbbing in time with the pounding on the door.

Fuckin’ A.

Heaving a sigh, I slide the whiskey bottle onto the coffee table in front of me and stand from the couch, slowly stretching before making my way toward the door. Whoever is on the other side is relentless, still knocking. “Alright, alright!” I call out exasperatedly, stabbing my fingers through my hair as I reach for the handle. “Calm your tits!”

I yank the door open with a scowl on my face.

The girl on the other side stands more than a foot shorter than my six foot six. Yeah, I’m freakishly tall, but she’s freakishly short- everywhere that I’m large, she’s petite, seemingly delicate. Glossy black hair falls over her shoulders in waves, framing a heart-shaped face. Her coloring is a dead giveaway of her Latin descent, as are her harsh cheekbones and full, pouty lips. They look soft as fuck. Kissable, if I were into something that intimate.

She’s dressed casually in a pair of high-waisted skinny jeans and a white crop top, the shape of her body mostly hidden underneath an open zip-up hoodie. The little I can see, though, makes me curious for a peek at the rest. Looks like she’s fit, but soft where it counts. My fingers itch to reach out and see if that’s true. Her scent hits my nose and my wolf instantly stirs, perking up in response to the sweet notes of raspberry and rosewater. And if all of that didn’t give me pause, her brown eyes peek out from under thick, dark lashes and collide with mine, all the air leaving my body on impact.

Shit. Just looking at her stirs something deep inside me; something primal and hungry. Whatever it is, it’s an unwelcome emotion after bathing myself in numbness for the last two months.

I glare down at her, my lip curling back from my teeth. “Who the fuck are you?”