How It Will Be by T. S. Joyce

Chapter Eight

 

“A beer pong tournament?” Ren asked.

Bron was trying to bite back a smile.

“This is serious,” Ren reprimanded him. “You’re going to give pledge spots to the winners of a drinking game.”

“Wrong,” Bron corrected her. “We’re going to watch how they respond to adversity, and if they work together or work against each other, and choose healthy members based on that.”

“There’s no healthy members here,” she hissed at him.

“It’s ten in the morning,” the barrel-chested man said. “Who drinks beer at ten in the morning?”

Amos narrowed his eyes at him. He raised his hand.  “Can a pledge be disqualified just for saying dumb shit?”

“Enough,” Krome said tiredly as he helped a human woman, Aux’s mate, drag a foldable table out of the bed of a truck. “You two can be on the same team.”

“The fuck we are,” Amos said. “Pretty sure that lady didn’t bring Capri Suns for his cups, and I’m not dragging him to the top with me.”

Bron ignored him and pointed to others, pairing them up. One by one, the duos made their way to each other and began talking softly, filling the clearing with the gentle rumble of organized chaos.

“Half of you will be disqualified at the end of the day,” Krome said loud enough for everyone to hear. “Winners of the tournament won’t necessarily be invited to pledge.”

“Then what’s the point of trying to win at beer pong?” one of them asked.

“Spoken like a wuss,” another said, cracking his knuckles.

“Dude, you have a teddy bear tattoo on your arm,” Amos insulted him.

“My nana liked teddy bears. It’s a tribute to her!” Teddy-man shoved the other guy hard in the chest.

And then they started fighting.

Another man unzipped his pants and started peeing on a tree at the edge of the woods.

Bron was laughing like any of this madness was funny.

And then Aux’s mate came over and introduced herself in the weirdest way possible. She curtsied and said, “Milady,” and then told her, “My name is Gweneth Patricia Smithers, known as Gwen the human mate of Auxor Bane and professional chicken wrangler, and from this day forth, I shall be known as your friend. You can be on my team.”

“Uuuuuuh…” Ren looked from her to Bron to Krome, who also had a smile in his eyes, and then she took Gwen’s dainty, offered hand and shook it awkwardly. “I’m Lauren, also known as Ren friend of Bron. I start rumors for a living, and I’m not pledging.”

“Oh.” Gwen snorted. “Girl, me either, I just like to play beer pong. I’m already in the Murder Crew Clan Club Team, whatever-they’re-going-to-call-it.” She pulled two cans from a satchel that hung at her side and held them up. “Would you like Coors or White Claws?” She smiled prettily and blinked a lot. Maybe she had something in her eye.

“We have a beer choice?” Amos asked. “Might as well give my team the fuckin’ White Claws.”

Ren couldn’t help herself. For the first time today, a giggle escaped her. It was a tiny one, but it counted. She looked around the clearing at everyone setting up rows of foldable tables, strategizing, and ripping open bags of red Solo Cups. The sun was shining, and Manning had no chance of messing with her today. Gwen was funny and Cora was hanging with them and very friendly, and out of a truck piled the other two Bane brothers and Aurora, whom Ren waved at because she knew her now. And Bron. He was standing next to Krome, talking low, but when he caught her looking at him, his whole face lit up in this slow, sexy smile that did a number to her insides. He was having fun. Oh, he was on alert, and watching everything around them, but that smile had infiltrated his entire face, and God, Bron was a sight to behold when he was happy.

“What flavor of White Claws do you have?” Ren asked.

“Whoop!” Gwen cried. “I got ‘em all.” She led Ren and Cora back toward the truck where a bunch of iced down coolers were sitting on the tailgate. Aurora was waiting there for them, and introduced her to Trinity, Bricken Bane’s mate, and her small son, who was apparently Crow Blooded. A Crow Blooded child. They were so rare. How interesting this ragtag group of shifters was turning out to be. That meant Bricken Bane, a big old bruin bear shifter, was helping to raise a crow boy.

“Crucial and secret announcement,” Gwen whispered out the side of her mouth to Ren. “I can’t actually drink the beers. My cups will be filled with orange juice.”

“Oooooh,” Ren murmured as it clicked what Gwen was really saying. “You’re pregnant?” she whispered.

“Uh huh.” Gwen wore the biggest smile in existence.

“With a bear cub?”

“Probably with three bear cubs,” Aurora said as they formed a little circle to chat.

“Oh my God,” Ren said. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. The bears weren’t supposed to be breeding. It was in the Oath of Bane they’d taken when they were teenagers. They were supposed to let their line die off, but here was Gwen, definitely continuing the line of violent, blood-thirsty, savage…Ren looked at Moore, Aux, and Bricken Bane. Brick was carrying Trinity’s son on his shoulders and laughing with her as he leaned in for a kiss. Moore and Aux were talking low to Krome and Bron, who were supposed to be their mortal enemies. And their mates were probably kooky as hell for falling in love with danger bears, but they seemed nice, and were all at ease like they felt safe.

Maybe she’d been wrong. Maybe everything she’d been taught about bear shifters had been a lie. Or perhaps if it wasn’t a lie, the things she’d heard didn’t apply to this generation of bears. Maybe they were different. She of all people knew how easily rumors could get blown out of proportion. Perhaps that’s what had happened to the bears.

And Gwen and the other woman looked so happy. How could she poo-poo on Gwen’s excitement? Instead, a protectiveness came over her as she realized what Bron and Krome and the Banes were really building. This wasn’t a Murder of crows. They were building a Crew. A safe spot for the misfits. Ren…Ren was a misfit, too. She’d never belonged anywhere, and now look what was happening in this clearing. This moment held weight that she didn’t fully understand yet, but that felt unquestionably important.

Ren grabbed Gwen’s hand and squeezed. She looked at Bron, knowing full-well he could hear her with his heightened senses when she said, “I changed my mind.”

“About what?” Gwen asked.

“I think I want to pledge after all.”

And that look that took over Bron’s face…that look was a mixture of relief, happiness, hope, and determination. Bron was so different now. How had she never noticed before how handsome he was? Especially now as a confident, powerful ranked member in a Murder? He sure was different in all the best ways, and he was capturing all of her attention.

She was in trouble with that one. There was this strange sensation as he watched her that things were clicking into place. Like the puzzle of her life had always been missing crucial pieces, but that somehow, she’d stumbled onto them out here in these woods.

Yeah, the pieces were located right where two fist fights were happening between some of the pledges, and some of the others were throwing down actual money for bets on who would win, and the rest were going about their preparations and conversations like the fights weren’t even happening, and all of this should be strange and out of place…but it wasn’t.

It all felt…normal.

It was the first time in her life she’d ever had that thought. “Normal” had been unattainable before, because she didn’t understand it. Normal wasn’t a part of her journey. Normal was for people with white picket fences, and two kids, and a perfect partnership, and a nine to five job. At least that’s what she’d thought. But that definition of normal wasn’t ever going to apply to her. She’d just had to redefine ‘normal’ to fit her comfort zone. And this? Standing here talking with these interesting, genuinely kind women, under the watchful protection of Bron and backed by three bear shifters, in a clearing full of squabbling shifters?

Well…apparently this kind of environment was the only normal that had ever made sense to her.

“I want to play against her,” Claw Face called out.

He was pointing to Ren. He hadn’t even wiped the blood from his cheek that she’d scratched, and blood was drying in drips down his face. His eyes were a light and unnatural green, and there was a hardness in his eyes that made her skin crawl.

“Beating me in beer pong won’t make your scratch go away, mister,” she enlightened him.

His eyes blazed with anger, and he took a step toward her, and chaos erupted. A cloud of black smoke enveloped her, and Bron’s massive back appeared in front of her. He couldn’t reach the man though, because another shifter already had his hand wrapped around Claw Face’s throat.

It was a tall man, lanky with short hair and an unsettling snarl rattling his throat. “You know who that is, boy?” the man ground out in a voice that wasn’t even pretending to be human. “Did you not see the tattoos on the back of her arm? They call her Rumor. She’s survived a dozen Murders, and I’m bettin’ she could gut you where you stand. And if she don’t get the job done? That big ol’ scarred up crow behind me will be waiting to finish you off. She belongs to Bron. You get the hierarchy here? It’s Krome and his mate, Bron is Second, and if he chose this one? She will always rank higher than you. Best put your little revenge plot to rest if you want to live.” The man shoved him away, and Claw Face stumbled backward a few steps.

“Do you know who I am?” Claw Face snarled.

“Don’t really fuckin’ care.” The man had a deep-south accent underneath all that growling.

Bron turned to Krome, and Ren didn’t miss it. They both gave each other a small nod that said so much more than she could understand.

“You’re dismissed,” Krome said.

“Yes sir,” the lanky man growled, and made his way toward the woods.

“Not you,” Bron told him. His body rang with tension as he jerked his chin toward Claw Face. “You. Get the fuck out of here.”

The man lost it. With a yell, he rushed them in a blur. Bron’s reaction was so fast, and so lethal, Ren heard the crack of a broken nose before she registered that Bron was on him. The shattering of his nose turned into the cracking of the rest of his bones as the man changed. Horror took her as she realized a wolf was emerging from the man. Bron didn’t change into his crow. Instead, he fought Claw Face as a man.

Ren moved to change and defend him, but stopped when she realized Bron didn’t need the help. He grabbed the wolf by the scruff of the neck and slammed his fists into his face once, twice, and then with what looked like no effort at all, Bron spun and tossed that massive werewolf against a tree. A pained yelp came from the animal, and it was slow to get up. Bron strode for him, unhurried, unbothered, while everyone watched in silence.

The wolf took off, limping deeply, before Bron reached him.

“Is anyone else confused about what will happen if you test us?” Krome asked. He stood leaned against a truck, his arms crossed languidly over his chest. He twitched his head at Bron. “He wasn’t even trying.”

Behind him, the bears were relaxed and watchful. None of them had even felt threatened enough to change. Holy shit, Ren was starting to understand the power in this group of shifters.

Ren made her way to Bron, whose pitch-black eyes were on her. She hesitated in front of him, and then he did something that shocked her. He pulled her hand and hooked her finger into his belt loop.

No man had ever managed to give her butterflies before this moment. She’d thought herself incapable of them, but nope. Bron had those suckers flapping around like mad just by a touch. Just by a connection. She smiled and dipped her gaze shyly, because Krome was talking, but some of the shifters standing close to them were watching.

She liked Bron very much. Ren turned to stand beside him, her finger still in his belt loop, and she bumped him gently with her side. Bron slipped his arm around her and murmured, “You’re good.” He didn’t ask if she was alright. He told her she was with such confidence, there was no room for fear here with these dominant predators anymore. Simply…she was fine. He would demolish anyone who messed with her, and there was something so refreshing about the knowledge that she truly wasn’t alone anymore.

Someone important had her back.

“What’s your name?” Krome asked the lanky one.

The corners of the man’s eyes tightened slightly, and he let a few moments pass before he uttered, “The name is Nuke.”

“Oooooh,” one of the shifters near her said, shaking his head.

Another whistled, and a shifter near the tree line whispered, “Holy shhhhhit.”

The crowd’s reaction to the man’s name lifted the fine hairs of Ren’s arms. Where had she heard that name before?

“You’re the one I talked to on the phone yesterday?” Bron asked.

A nod.

“Are you a big cat?”

“The animal don’t make a difference. He stays buried.”

“Why?” Krome asked, looking troubled.

“Because there’s no control to that one,” someone in the crowd answered for him.

Nuke stood there stoically, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Why are you named Nuke?” Krome asked.

“Because you don’t conjure my animal until you’re ready for everyone to die.”

There was a loaded moment of silence, and then Krome nodded. “Well, Nuke, you pass to the next round.” Krome pulled a bucket out of the back of the truck. “Can you hand out the beer pong balls?”

Gwen snorted, then pursed her lips. “I’m sorry,” she said. But then she giggled. “I’m sorry! I know this is a really big moment, but that was so intense, and Bron fought a mother-freaking werewolf with his bare hands, and then that guy admits how terrifying he is, and then Krome followed it up with ‘can you pass out the beer pong balls.’ You guys can’t say that isn’t funny. It is. That’s funny.”

Okay, it was kind of funny. Ren had to stare at the ground and repeat the words ‘apple juice, apple juice, apple juice’ in her head until she lost the urge to laugh.

When she looked up at Bron, he was biting his bottom lip, trying to hide a smile too.

No matter who Krome chose today, hands down, this was going to be the worst Crew ever.