Page 8 of Brutal Alpha

The darkness had crept up on us all, with the dusk so long and the night slow to set in, but the sky was now pitch black, the only light coming from the low flames of the bonfire. Orange tongues cast dancing shadows from the leaves and twigs lying on the scorched grass. There was no rhythm to it, no music, but it was beautiful all the same.

When I was a child, I’d always wanted to stretch out a hand and try to catch the shadows cast by the flickering flames, but my father had always pulled me away. I’d been convinced, then, that I could catch them if only I were allowed near enough. With a wry smile, I reached forward, closing my fist around a jumping shadow, and for just a moment, I felt a sliver of something cool brush against my palm.

A twig snapped close by, and I jumped. Beneath the smoke of the bonfire, I could smell a familiar steel and leather scent, bristling as Ethan took a seat beside me. I couldn’t see him—he’d sat on my bad side—but perhaps that was for the best.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” he asked, too late.

“You’re already seated, so I think you’ve answered your own question.”

“Right.”

The night seemed even quieter after the hubbub of earlier; a few shifters were still hanging around by the food tables, but they were far enough away that the conversations were nothing more than a quiet murmur. Ethan and I were the only ones near the fire, listening to the crack and pop of the logs. Did he think it was dangerous for me to be over here on my own or something? Was I too far away from the festivities, a prime target for the Arbor hunters and the bogeyman? Before I could ask, he spoke:

“I’m, uh—I’m sorry about earlier.”

That was absolutely not what I expected to hear, so much so that I wasn’t even certain I had heard it.

“You’re what?” I said, incredulous, and Ethan sighed.

“Don’t make me say it again,” he muttered. That was all I needed to confirm that I had heard him right the first time, but I couldn’t resist teasing him.

“No, you’re going to have to,” I said, grinning. “I could swear I only had a couple of beers, but—”

“Very funny. I said I’m sorry about earlier. I was out of line.”

This was the first apology I’d ever received from Ethan, and as much as I enjoyed it, I also had absolutely no idea how to respond. With Caleb, I would have just told him I loved him and punched him in the arm. That definitely wasn’t the way forward here.

“I wasn’t really gonna fuck him,” I blurted. “I just said that to piss you off.”

It was true. I might have been a little starved for male attention—between being the Alpha’s little sister and the Pack’sresident Bad Omen—but I wasn’t going to lose my virginity to some random Beta at a party, no matter how cute he was.

“I mean you can… You can do whatever you want,” Ethan replied, although it sounded as though the words physically pained him. I appreciated the effort.

“I know that,” I told him, gently, “but I’m glad you’ve caught up.”

He didn’t reply to that, but the quiet that grew between us this time was almost companionable. Again, my attention turned to the fire, and it was easier to get swept up in the dance of the flames now that my anger had subsided. For a couple of seconds, the flames flickered in something almost like a beat, the pattern of their movement reminding me of a song that I’d liked as a child. I sang the tune in my head, imagining the flames dancing to its melody, the shadows they created dancing along with them.

I was so caught up in my imagination that for a moment I really saw it: the shadows dancing in time with the music in my head. They elongated and contracted steady waltz—one two three, one two three—for a few beats, and then a few beats longer, and then I could really see it. The shadows were dancing to my tune, utterly out of sync with the crackling fire whose light created them.

I shook my head, squeezing my eyes shut, blocking out the memory of music. I was just tired. I’d had a couple of beers. It had been a long, emotional day.

When I opened my eyes again, the world had changed entirely. It was fuzzy and indistinct, but it was far wider than I was used to, and I flinched as I saw something moving to the left: something on my blind side.

I immediately closed my good eye, narrowing my field of vision once again, but it didn’t disappear. Instead of the three-dimensional, colorful world I was used to, there were only different shades of grey, different shadows shifting and moving in the darkness. I could see the shadow cast by the large oak tree just a few yards away, along with the long shadows of the chairs and logs assembled around the edge of the bonfire. Strangest of all, I could see Ethan beside me; his shape was slightly stretched but still recognizable.

My heart was in my throat, my stomach doing somersaults. I had to say something, to do something, to prove to myself this wasn’t all just a strange and cruel dream.

“Hey, Ethan?” I ventured.

“Yeah.”

This was a terrible idea. I wasn’t really going to tell Ethan I was seeing things that might not be there. Then again, I supposed if anyone was going to tell me to pull myself together, it would be him.

“I might be going crazy,” I continued, “but I think I can see you.”

“What do you mean?” I didn’t have to see Ethan’s frown to hear it in his voice, and I realized that he’d never known I couldn’t see him in the first place.

“You’re sitting on my blind side,” I explained, and I felt him tense beside me.

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