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CALLUM

A lot of little boys idolize superheroes. I’ve always identified more with the villains.

It’s not like I had designs on growing up to become some sort of evil mastermind, but some part of me has always recognized that desperate darkness that lurks beneath the surface of the villain in the story. The tortured soul behind the manic façade.

Nobody roots for the villain, and nobody has ever rooted for me, either. My stepdad ensured that by painting me as the black sheep of the family from the moment I took my first breath. I was always the problem child, the nuisance he was forced to live with but never wanted. The product of an anonymous hookup that my mother regretted before I was even born, because she met the love of her life when she was six months pregnant with another man’s child. A man I’d never meet, because apparently, he didn’t want me either.

Ain’t life a bitch?

The villain in the story never comes out on top, but you’ve gotta admire their tenacity. The world’s against them, they know they’re bound to lose, and still, they go all-in on their efforts. I can’t imagine giving enough of a shit about anything to risk it all like that, but hey, I’ll give credit where it’s due. When you think about it, maybe the true hero of the story isn’t always the good guy with the strict moral code. Maybe it’s really the one who keeps on fighting until he has nothing left to lose.

My childhood wasn’t all bad. Growing up as a wolf shifter, I had pack life to fall back on as an escape from my shitty home life. Shifter packs are small, close-knit communities that are often isolated from the outside world, and my own is no exception. Even without an arsenal of social skills at my disposal, I managed to form a bond with other pups my own age. The rowdy group of boys I fell in with has now become an even rowdier gang of teenagers, still wild as ever, loyal to a fault, and thick as thieves.

There are six of us that have run together since we were small. There’s Alec and Dare, a pair of fraternal twin brothers that look nothing alike but seem to share a mind; Levi, the pretty boy that can get a girl to drop her panties with a single smile; Miles, the rich kid who is always playing games and taking risks to combat the boredom of his perfect life; and Chase, the son of the Alpha, the future leader of our pack, and the unofficial leader of our little band of brothers.

Then there’s me.

The one people tend to steer clear of.

Even now, with the party at the packhouse in full swing, the hapless partygoers grant me a wide berth as I make my way to the bar in the corner to pour myself a drink. We’ve been throwing these parties every weekend for the past two months- Levi’s idea, as a way to try to pull Chase out of the funk he’s been in since his dad died. The other guys seem to think that surrounding him with a constant flow of booze, weed, tits, and ass will drag him out of the darkness, but I know better. That kind of darkness burrows deep, festering until it consumes. The others think he’ll just snap out of it one day and go back to being the old Chase, but what the guy really needs is an outlet for his rage, not a distraction from it.

The music in here is so loud tonight that it’s rattling the large windows that span the back wall of the living room. Earlier, I heard some girl complaining that she could barely hear herself think over the music, but that’s the whole point, isn’t it? That’s why people have been showing up here week after week, the crowd growing larger with each party as word spreads. They don’t come here to think; they come to lose themselves for the night, to drink and smoke and hook up. To escape reality and forget about the war that took so much from us. The war that we won, but that cost our pack its Alpha.

I sift through the liquor bottles crowding the surface of the bar to pick my poison for the night, settling on top-shelf vodka and tipping it into a red plastic cup. There’s no shortage of booze at these parties, though I don’t even know where it comes from. Miles is in charge of procuring it, so he probably just throws his family’s money around until someone looks the other way and hands it over. We’re all eighteen now, still a few years shy of the legal drinking age in the United States, but our packs tend to live by their own laws, turning a blind eye to underage alcohol consumption. Since we’re shifters, we process alcohol differently- it takes a hell of a lot more to get us drunk than it would an average human. Not that we don’t make a valiant effort.

It’s really fucking irresponsible for the six of us to be left here to our own devices, but when Chase’s dad was killed in the war against the shadow pack two months ago, the Alpha title wasn’t the only thing he inherited. The packhouse is now his; an enormous, ten-thousand square foot playground that was built to house the ranked pack members and host pack gatherings. Our weekend ragers count as ‘pack gatherings’, right?  

“Yo Cal!” Alec calls out, diverting my attention from the drink I’m pouring. I glance over to where he’s seated on the sectional near the bar and Alec lifts his chin, flickering his gaze to the other side of the room in warning. Before I can even turn to follow his eyes, I hear a fucking cackle that makes my skin crawl and I know who exactly whose presence he’s alerting me to.

I slam the vodka bottle back down on the bar, my fists clenching as I slowly turn, raking over the crowd of people gathered in the packhouse in search of him. Sure enough, I find him standing right across the room, running a hand through that flouncy flaxen hair of his and flashing a winning smile at some poor girl hanging off his arm.

My half-brother. The fucking apple of our parents’ eye; the golden child they always wanted.

A growl rumbles in my chest as I pick up the plastic cup from the bar, tossing my drink back in a single swallow and crumpling the cup in my hand, chucking it aside. My boots clomp against the hardwood as I start making my way across the room, anxious partygoers scrambling out of my way to let me pass.

Spencer White and I may share blood, but that’s about the only thing we share. He’s your classic clean-cut, all-American kid; the living embodiment of a ken doll with his perfectly styled light blonde hair and pale blue eyes. He’s a straight-A student, a star athlete, popular among his peers… basically every parent’s wet dream when it comes to what they’d want in a son. I, on the other hand, am a parent’s worst nightmare. A grungy high school drop-out with no future, no shortage of demons, and no ability to keep his own temper in check.

People look at my brother like he’s prince charming, while cowering from me like I’m the monster that hides under their beds. What they tend to forget, though, is that monsters aren’t born. They’re created. And the same parents who molded Spencer into their perfect little golden boy are the ones who made me what I am.

“The fuck you doing here, Spence?” I growl as I approach him, my lip curling back from my teeth in a sneer.

His eyes come to mine, his mouth sliding into a mocking smirk as he greets me with a nod, like we’re old friends or some shit. “Conway.”

He’s trying to get a rise out of me by calling me by my last name, a pointed dig at the fact that it’s different from his own. I don’t even flinch. As if I’d want to share a last name with this asshole.

I fold my arms over my chest, staring him down and conveying a silent threat. I don’t need words to intimidate. It’s the lack of words that makes people uncomfortable. My gaze stays locked on his, eyes unblinking, until his smug little smile starts to falter, his shoes scuffing against the hardwood underfoot.

“What’s the big fucking deal, Cal?” he finally murmurs, dropping his voice low and leaning in. Probably trying to save face in front of his stupid friends and his blonde arm candy. “Let’s just stay out of each other’s way, eh?” Spencer lifts a hand like he’s going to clap me on the shoulder, but the snarl that leaves my throat has him thinking better of it and he shoves it in his pocket instead.

“Leave,” I deadpan.

He rolls his eyes, taking a step backwards and scoffing. “Whatever, man.” He raises his voice, gesturing around the room. “This party sucks anyways.”

Lie. This party is tits and he knows it, but he also knows that I’m about two seconds away from forcibly removing him, and he wants to save himself the embarrassment. Spence may be many things, but he’s not dumb.

He puffs out his chest, turning on a heel and waving a hand to the buddies he came here with. “C’mon, guys, let’s roll.”

His friends exchange looks of disappointment, but they follow Spencer toward the door like good little soldiers, shaking their heads and muttering under their breath. Probably something about how I’m an asshole, but I couldn’t give a shit what they think. This is my turf, and I won’t tolerate Spence encroaching on it.

I stay rooted to the spot I’m in until Spencer and his merry band of idiots are out the door. Good riddance. I’m sure that little interaction will earn me a phone call from his father at some point, but that’s a problem for tomorrow. For tonight, I’m ready to get back to having a good time with my friends. They’re more like brothers to me than that prick will ever be. Family isn’t always defined by blood.

I head to the bar to pour myself another drink, but quickly think better of it and just snatch the whole damn bottle before reclaiming my spot on the huge leather sectional at the far side of the room. That’s where the rest of my boys are posted up; the perfect vantage point to keep an eye on the rest of the house while staying isolated on our own little island. The other guys in here know to keep away from our spot. The girls, on the other hand, spend all night swarming the sectional like fucking cockroaches. As our pack’s future Alpha, Chase is like royalty, and that same allure seems to trickle down to us as his closest friends. The guys respect us, and the girls want on our dicks.

Alec and Dare have already selected a few females to entertain them for the night- a redhead named Felicity is grinding all over Dare’s lap, while Alec has a little blonde named Britt seated on his left and another that I don’t recognize on his right. She must be from another pack around here; there are six in our territory that make up our alliance. The collective is referred to as the “six-pack”- I shit you not- because apparently when you’re facing down the possibility of war, all creativity goes out the window. Our pack was the last to join the alliance and claim our own piece of the sprawling territory in Colorado years ago, but in throwing these parties over the past couple months, my boys and I have made quite the name for ourselves amongst the packs that reside here. Every week, more and more strangers from other packs show up to join in our debauchery.

I take a swig of vodka straight from the bottle, my gaze lifting to the two girls that have hopped up to dance on the coffee table positioned in front of the sectional. Melody and Alexis, both from our pack. I make it my business to keep tabs on everyone who shows up here because it gives me some semblance of control over my surroundings. Less surprises that way. I fucking hate surprises.

Fuckin’ Spence.

I scowl at the thought of him, raising the bottle to my lips for another pull as I watch Melody and Alexis shake their asses to the music in a desperate bid to capture Chase’s attention. He’s completely zoned out, but that doesn’t seem to diminish their efforts. Melody whips around, smacking Alexis in the face with her long dark hair before dropping her ass low and slowly rolling her body back up. I crack a smile when I see the fury in Alexis’ eyes, chuckling to myself as I rest the rim of the vodka bottle against my lower lip.

These two chicks might act like they’re best friends, but watching them dance, it isn’t hard to pick up on the subtle nuances of their true relationship. People are tricky beasts. Everyone’s always playing a role; putting on a front to conceal their true nature. If you pay attention, though, it’s easy to see through the cracks in people’s masks.

Take these girls, for example. Melody is jealous of Alexis, probably because she’s prettier. I can see it in the way that she’s trying too hard, peeling her shirt up to show off her lacy bra and using her friend like she’s nothing but a prop to dance on. Alexis is obviously annoyed by Melody’s antics, but she puts up with her because she doesn’t have a lot of other friends. She was ousted from her last group after snitching on Stasia, the queen bee, for cheating on her boyfriend at the time. Nowadays, Stasia’s been riding on Chase’s dick whenever she has a chance, so Alexis probably figures that a night with Chase would give her social standing the boost it needs.  

Too bad Chase hasn’t even noticed that these girls are in the same room as him. His head is buried in his hoodie, a whiskey bottle dangling from his fingertips as he stares past Melody and Alexis, completely zoned out.

I start to zone out, too. Between the music and the roar of the crowd, my ears feel like they’re bleeding, but I’ve never liked the quiet. In silence, my own thoughts become too loud, so I constantly seek to drown them out with noise. I’m not a fan of most people, either, but crowds tend to fill silences, so I stomach them in favor of the alternative.

I’m still gazing lazily toward Alexis and Melody’s grinding bodies when an annoyingly perky voice cuts through the noise, a pair of slim legs clad in dark denim stepping into my field of vision.

“Hi! I’m Nessa.”

My mouth curls into a scowl as my eyes snap up to take in the girl who deigned to step into my space, but as soon as they meet hers, my expression falters.

She’s fucking stunning.

As in, stepped out of a film screen, stepped off of a Victoria’s Secret runway, stunning. My pulse goes haywire.

Long, dark lashes fan out around her almond eyes, and plush, red-painted lips frame her gorgeous smile. Stick-straight dark hair falls down loosely around her bare shoulders, the lightened ends brushing the curve of her waist. Her skin is bronzed like the sun worships her, and fuck, it should. She’s radiant.

Her smile doesn’t even waver when I return it with one of my own- a demonic grin that usually scares people off, but this girl is either a master of concealment or truly naïve enough not to know when she’s come face to face with a predator.

“Well aren’t you sweet,” I drawl, searching her eyes for any flicker of recognition. My reputation usually precedes me, but those innocent doe-eyes give no indication of fear. She just keeps smiling warmly like she’s waiting for an invitation.

Interesting.

I lean back on the couch, swiping a hand over my chin and flicking a glance in Chase’s direction. I assume he’ll want to lay claim on a creature this exquisite, but historically, he’s not above sharing. I’ve never gone there with one of his conquests, but for her, I might just have to make an exception.

He hasn’t seemed to notice her yet, his stare fixed somewhere behind her. Even better. I slide my gaze back to the captivating stranger standing in front of me. 

“I’m Cal. And I’m sure you know Alpha Chase.” I tick my head to indicate the vacant space on the couch between the two of us, eyes locking with hers again. “Why don’t you join us?”

Nessa’s smile widens and she grabs for someone’s hand, yanking a short brunette girl to her side. I immediately recognize who her friend is- Vienna, an uptight waitress from the Cedar Ridge ski lodge that Levi has a boner for and that Chase won’t admit he likes. I’ve only met her once, but I might’ve been nicer to her if I knew the company she kept.

Nessa plops down beside me on the couch, her thigh brushing mine as she sinks onto the leather sofa. The cushion dips under her weight, forcing our bodies closer, and my eyes nearly roll back in my head when I inhale her scent for the first time. She smells like cherries and spring florals; the freshness of the combination has me practically salivating, my wolf sitting up and taking notice. I lick my lips like I can taste her scent on the air between us, my heart thumping in my chest at a chaotic beat.

“Is that short for something?” she asks, and I raise a brow in question, wondering what the hell I missed between the time she introduced herself and sat down beside me.

“Huh?”

She smiles again, and I notice a little dimple sink into her left cheek. Fucking cute.

“Cal. Is it short for something?”

I nod, raising the vodka bottle to my lips and taking a pull, swallowing it down before responding. “Callum.”

“Callum,” she repeats, my name rolling off her tongue like the sweetest sin. “I like it, it suits you,” she decides with a nod.

She’s still got that wide-eyed, innocent look about her, and I narrow my gaze, trying to figure out what she’s hiding beneath her mask. Everyone has something to hide. I’ve always been able to read people, but this girl has me stumped.  

I raise the liquor bottle to her in offering, and I study her face as she considers before taking it from me and raising it to her lips. She curls them around the rim, tipping the bottle back.

What I wouldn’t give to be that fucking bottle right now.

Her throat works with a swallow and her face pinches up in disgust as she shoves the vodka back toward me, shaking her head. “Ugh, that’s nasty,” she coughs, shaking her head harder. “How can you drink that stuff?!”

She amuses me. The corner of my mouth kicks up before I even realize it’s happening, and it catches me off guard.

Nessa wipes her own mouth with a wrist, settling back into the cushions of the couch and turning her head to gaze over at me. “So what’s your story, Callum?” she asks, her expression conveying genuine interest. She clearly hasn’t heard about me, and I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

I just shrug, raising the liquor bottle and resting the rim against the corner of my mouth. Nobody calls me by my full name, but I can’t bring myself to correct her when it sounds like honey on her lips. “I’m sure yours is more interesting,” I say, taking a pull of vodka and enjoying the burn as it slides down my throat.

Before she can respond, Levi pops up out of fucking nowhere, shoving red plastic cups toward Nessa and her friend. “Ladies,” he says smoothly, tossing Vienna a wink.

Chase also seems to be fixated on Vienna, and I have to wonder if these guys are fucking crazy to have not noticed how hot the girl sitting right beside her is. I mean sure, Vienna’s cute, but Nessa is… damn. Words can’t accurately convey how beautiful this fucking girl is. She’s gotta have some major damage or something. Perfection like hers doesn’t just… exist. It has to be tainted somehow.

Nessa takes the cup from Levi with a smile, thanking him politely before lifting it and taking a sip.

“It’s jungle juice,” he explains as the red liquid meets the seam of her lips. “Tastes like kool-aid, but watch out, that shit is potent.”

Nessa swallows it down, her tongue snaking out to lick her lips, and damn if it isn’t sexy as fuck. I have the strongest urge to lean over and run my own tongue along those pouty lips of hers- an urge that’s completely fucking foreign to me. Historically, the only place I’ve ever desired to have a girl’s mouth is around my cock.

“Ooh, this is yummy,” Nessa hums in approval, nudging her friend. “Try it, Vee!” She swings her head back around to face me, lifting her cup. “This is way better than that,” she declares, eyeing the vodka bottle dangling from my fingers.

She licks her lips again, my eyes tracking the movement as I fight to hold back the groan threatening to slip from my throat. Like a knee-jerk reaction, I lean in closer until my lips are hovering beside the shell of her ear, my voice dropping to a dangerously low decibel. “If you don’t keep that tongue in your mouth, sweet girl, I’m going to start getting ideas of other uses for it.”

An offended little gasp leaves her lips and I lean back to look into her eyes again, our gazes locking together like we’re in a staring contest. I can read every emotion that passes over her face. When she gets past her initial shock, her cheeks redden in embarrassment. Then a flush crawls up her neck, like the idea of what I’ve just said excites her. She’s quick to regain her composure, a glint of something defiant flaring in her eyes as her lips part to respond. “Sounds like you’re the one with the dirty mouth, Callum. Maybe you should worry less about mine and more about cleaning up your own.”   

I don’t expect her to be so quick-witted, and for once, I don’t have a comeback on the tip of my tongue. A chuckle vibrates from my chest as I shake my head, my gaze dropping down Nessa’s body. Her legs are crossed at the knee, her feet pointed toward me. By all indications, she’s interested, though for the life of me I can’t figure out why.  

“Well, I’m officially intrigued,” I murmur, my eyes crawling back up to meet hers.

She shrugs, bringing her cup to her lips again and hiding her smirk behind it. “Guess that makes two of us.”