Chapter Ninety-Three

Havermouth, Five Years Before

Aislen trailed Rhett to the fire. The cheerleaders and the Debutantes had stripped down to bikinis and laid out towels on a patch of grass just beyond the fire pit, ostensibly suntanning, but really, Aislen thought sourly, displaying themselves like stock in a shop, for the male werewolves’ inspection.

To her surprise, the Triquetra did not ogle them like most of the other male werewolves, but acted as if they were indifferent to the line of semi-clad female bodies, or as if they were not there at all. They fussed over making the food and drinking beer and ignored the jokes and innuendos from the footballers who seemed to invite the Triquetra to admire the girls.

“C’mon man,” Rohan nudged Heath when the footballers' efforts went unrewarded. “Erica’s smoking hot. Just the way you like them.”

“Fuck off,” Heath flared up suddenly, rounding on Rohan so that they were chest-to-chest and glaring into each other’s eyes. Cameron, who had been bent over the fire, cooking barbeque on the metal plate, straightened slowly, handing the tongs to Aislen. Rhett, set the potato he’d been peeling aside and rose to his feet. They flanked Heath in silent unison, reminding Aislen of a pack edging in on prey.

She wasn’t surprised to see the iridescent reflection in the eyes of all those gathered by the river, from the football team who retreated a step from the Triquetra, despite their greater number, to the cheerleaders who pushed up on their elbows, looking over warily.

“Don’t do this, Rohan,” Heath said through his teeth. “Don’t join them on this, or our friendship will end.”

“Fuck, man,” Rohan’s eyes dropped to the side, submitting to the more dominant male. “I didn’t mean..."

"Yeah," Heath didn’t relax, his eyes scanning the rest of the group, male and female alike. “You don’t come onto our territory and fuck with our heads,” he told them in a snarl. “That’s disrespect. You’re either our friends, in which case you accept and support our choice, or you fuck off.”

“Sure, man,” Rohan retreated a step, and held the hand that didn’t clasp a beer out. “I was just kidding around,” his eyes went to where Aislen stood holding the tongs that Cameron had thrust at her. “No disrespect meant.” His eyes hardened as he looked at her, and Aislen was left in no doubt that if she were ever alone with the large werewolf, she’d regret it.

“No,” Heath said, his voice quiet, but no less vicious. “Eyes away, Rohan. That’s ours.”

Their whore, Aislen filled in the words unspoken, and let her hair fall forward to cover her face as she turned to the barbeque plate, nervously turning meat without seeing it.

“Good choice,” Rhett’s voice was hard when Rohan obeyed Heath. “I’m fucking sick of this shit,” he snapped, and grabbed Aislen by the arm as he strode away from the gathering. She hastily set the tongs down on a stump as she passed it, dragged along by Rhett’s grip. She could feel the rage seething off him like the shimmer of heat, and her heart skipped a panicked beat as they reached the balcony.

She glanced back over her shoulder as they turned the corner of the house and was surprised to see that Heath and Cameron followed, and, behind them, the cheerleaders and Debutantes were hastily pulling on their clothing, their faces strained and worried, and their eyes flicking to the house whilst the footballers carried their cooler boxes of alcohol back to the cars. The party was over.

The Triquetra entered the house and headed down to the bedroom.

“Undress,” Rhett said, releasing her and undoing his belt.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” she protested tearily, her eyes going to the belt that he held. She backed into Cameron, who prevented her from falling, his touch communicating his anger. Heath closed the door behind him.

“Oh fuck,” Rhett dropped the belt to the floor with a clatter and held his hands out, palms forward, much as Rohan had done. “Aislen… no…” His eyes shone as he looked away and swallowed, controlling himself as he lifted his eyes back to her, his expression woeful. “I’m not mad at you.”

“You were good,” Cameron said softly, and his anger blinked out, replaced with stark pain. “You were good, Aislen. We’re not angry with you. It’s fucking Rohan and the rest that we’re pissed with.” His hands ran up and down her arms from elbow to shoulders, trying to smooth the hair that stood on end along her skin. “Rhett was just… He’s just horny.”

“We fucked up,” Rhett said, his anger returning. He spoke past her and Cameron, to Heath. “Now she’s terrified of us,” he gestured to Aislen. “Terrified, Heath.”

“We went too far,” Heath’s voice was calm, soothing. “But we can recover from here. We can,” he looked from Rhett to Cameron. “They’ll back off now.”

“They haven’t,” Rhett snapped, flinging his arm out towards the window. “That wasn’t backing off.”

“Time,” Heath said softly. “Give it some time. They haven’t had enough time to see the change. We’ll explain on Sunday when we answer the summons.”

Was she supposed to not know that they were talking about the pack? Aislen wondered. Had there been a group agreement that they wouldn’t talk about it directly, but they would talk around it as if everyone knew the key words that were missing from the conversation? A Triquetra secret code, she thought sourly. Or were they acknowledging that she did know, and would know the secret code? But, if that were so, why use one at all?

She wanted to scream out: “I know what you are, just say it. Talk to me. Explain to me what is going on.” However, she held her tongue as Rhett’s words were fresh in her mind: “You can’t speak about that ever, to anyone, Aislen. Not even to us, not even when you think that it’s safe to do so, not even to me again.”

She lifted her top off over her head and dropped it to the floor before reaching for the button of her fly. The Triquetra became still and silent, all three looking at her. She did not look at them, could not bring herself to do so, as she released her bra, catching it against her chest before letting it fall. She pushed her panties down off her hips, stepping out of them and out of Cameron’s hold.

She knelt on the mattress with her back to them.

“Rhett,” Heath murmured in protest, and Aislen heard the door open and close. “I’ll go after him,” Heath said to Cameron as he followed.

She heard Cameron move and flinched when he knelt behind her and touch her back, his palm hot against her skin. Cameron placed her clothes on the mattress next to her. “Get dressed, Aislen,” he said quietly, and rose to his feet.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” she was on the verge of crying, shaking her head in denial. “I didn’t…”

“No, but maybe we did,” he replied, and closed the door behind him.