Series: Star Moon Pack Series by J.L. Beck
Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 118781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 594(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 594(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
And now they’re all wounded, and all of them look to my brother and me for help. For guidance. For reassurance.
I offer all I can because that’s all I can do. I don’t know if any of it matters in the end. Sure, we heal well, quickly. But these aren’t injuries earned through fighting or an accident. This is witch magic, and it always comes with strings attached. Our healers are skilled, but they’re strained to their breaking point already, and the fighting hasn’t gone on for more than a couple of weeks yet.
It’s a good thing we’re joining up with the Star Moon and surrounding packs. We’ve been holding our own, but there’s only so much longer we’ll be able to do so. Putting up a united front is the smart way to go, and I was gladder than I dared show when my father shared his plans with my brother and me.
By the time I’ve made my rounds, including taking a moment to pay respects to the row of sheet-covered bodies outside the tent, night has begun to fall. The power-hungry witches have retreated, for now, unable to broach our borders yet again. How much is it going to take before they finally give up? Because it isn’t like we aren’t making a dent in their numbers. Magic is one thing, but a full-grown wolf’s jaws are another. And there’s only so much good magic can do for a dismembered witch or one drowning in their own blood, thanks to massive internal damage.
Forrest meets me in front of the bodies and bows his head in a moment of respect. Every single loss is a blow to the pack as a whole, weakening us. Such a blow falls especially hard on us, the alpha’s sons, his representatives on the battlefield. He would never fight alongside us—the general doesn’t go down on the battlefield with his men, after all.
“You talked to Brady in there?” he murmurs, lifting his head and looking my way. The three of us were inseparable when we were kids.
I grunt in response. “Yeah. He’s not looking so good.”
“And he was always the one all the girls went crazy over,” he muses. “I couldn’t even hate him for it, which I wanted to. It would have been easier if he was an asshole.”
“He’ll make it through.”
“Yeah, but he’ll only have half a face.” Forrest absently touches his own cheek. “I don’t know if I’d be able to handle that.”
“He’ll be a war hero,” I point out. “Women love a war hero. The more scars he has, the less likely he will ever have a night without someone in his bed.”
“Good point.” He looks at me with a small hint of jealousy, and I have to shake off the sudden urge to walk away.
I don’t quite mean anything I’m saying, and I know my brother can see it. But facts are facts: at times like this, we can’t afford to get bogged down in sentiment. Yes, it’s a bitch, all of it. I’d wipe out every last living witch if it were up to me. But if we took the time to mourn every individual, we’d never stop. We would never be able to fight.
It’s better for us to try to shake it off after every battle. Yeah, we make it a point to visit the wounded to see if they need anything we can provide. Aside from that, we have to protect ourselves, guard our energy, and clear our heads before the next attack occurs.
And there’s only one way to do that. The best way I’ve ever come across.
“Let’s go. I’m buying.” I clap a hand over my brother’s shoulder as we turn away from the reminders of who we could so easily have become today. “And, by the way, thanks for the push.”
“Anytime. Next time, you can do the same for me.”
“If I feel like it.” He snorts with laughter, which is what I was going for. He knows the truth as well as I do: I’d kill anyone who threatened him without blinking an eye, and I would throw myself in harm’s way if it meant sparing him.
Right now, we celebrate being alive, which means drinking our asses off and getting laid.
Not that we ever had any trouble before, but it seems like women can’t get enough of a man fresh off the battlefield. It must be an aphrodisiac of some sort to say that you slept with a man who killed another man. If it wasn’t for the release they bring us, we’d be fucked in a less literal sense.
The Full Moon, the local diner, is already busy by the time we walk through the door, and the familiar smells of beer, burgers, and pheromones slam into me like a much-needed healing tonic. I recognize clusters of men I fought alongside only hours ago now gathered around high-top tables, hanging out in booths, and perched on the stools lining the long, scarred bar. Forrest and I hung around the battlefield to make our rounds after cleaning up, but the rest of them are already a few beers deep by now.