Chapter 13: Rage

Bruce tugged his jeans back on and ripped off his sweat-soaked tank top. He waved a finger at Silvana and said, “I’m serious. Do not move from this bed.”

Silvana’s heart sank at the idea of being exposed to danger while not in any clothes. Bruce stormed out of the house, barefoot, and flung the front door open so hard that it slammed against the front of the house.

“State your business here at my home,” Bruce said so harshly that the dozen werewolves shuddered.

They remained resilient and one strong woman with long, dyed-blue hair and facial piercings defiantly growled, “We’ve been told that our Alpha is dating some slutty, magic-casting witch.”

Silvana peered through the blinds over Bruce’s bed and her palms started to sweat. Bruce was wildly outnumbered, and there was fury in the eyes of his pack.

“Such a disgusting relationship would make you unsuitable to be our leader,” another werewolf chimed in, crossing his arms and standing strong.

But he didn’t stand as strong as Bruce, who marched down the stairs and looked the male werewolf directly in the eyes. Although the man was only inches shorter than Bruce, Bruce’s wide, dominating figure made him seem all the more smaller.

“If I was mating with a witch,” Bruce snarled at the pack, “I would slice the neck of whomever dared to insult her.”

The pack all looked at one another and gulped. Perhaps in their anger they had gotten in over their heads.

Kurt put his hands up between the pack and Bruce.

“Alright folks,” Kurt grinned. “I can understand your anger after being told such information, but as the brother to the Alpha, I can assure you that Bruce is not getting under the sheets with some filthy, no-good witch.”

When Kurt spoke, he seemed to look directly at the bedroom window and at Silvana.

She heard every word, and the way Kurt addressed the crowd frustrated her, as if he was trying to find a way to insult her indirectly.

Then again, from her last experience with Kurt, he was an instigator and scoundrel.

“If his forbidden relationship is untrue,” the female blue-haired werewolf snarled, “then let us hear him say the words.”
Bruce’s fists clenched. “You are in no position to command me.”

The muscles in his back tightened and bulged, and for a second Silvana thought he might transform.

“Okay big guy,” Kurt said, planting a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I think the good people here would be appreciative if you simply told them the truth-- there is no way under God’s full moon that you’d ever do something so stupid as allow yourself to be defiled by a disgusting, rotten witch.”

Did Kurt wink at Silvana as he waved his arms and paraded around as a public diplomat?

Silvana could have ran out and clocked him hard in the face.

Bruce made his chest broad and ferociously proclaimed, “I am not engaging in any behavior that would damage this pack. I have fought fang and claw to protect us, and I will continue to do so.”

“So surely you’d admit such a thing to the heads of the council, right?” Kurt asked. The sound of his voice poked Silvana’s nerves.

“Meet me there,” Bruce commanded at the pack.

Hesitantly and staring at Bruce, the pack disassembled, entered their vehicles, and drove away.

Kurt slung an arm around his brother’s shoulder, waited for the cars to be far away, and said, “Listen bro, I think you need to ditch the witch.”

He sniggered and added, “There’s no good that could come from being with such a, such a--”

Kurt couldn’t finish his sentence, as Bruce shoved him to the ground.

Kurt landed on his back, then swung his legs forward to propel himself acrobatically onto his feet. Bruce was strong, but Kurt was incredibly agile.

Bruce shoved a finger in Kurt’s face and said, “If you had anything to do with these rumors, I’ll end you myself you little weasel.”

Kurt shook his head and laughed. “Seriously?” he asked. “You really think I’d betray my own brother?”

He got close to Bruce, glanced at Silvana, and whispered so low she couldn’t hear, “You know, Brucie, I’ve been dating a witch myself.”

Kurt tapped Bruce on the shoulder. “Just head over to the council and make peace. Stop being such a hot-head.”

Bruce made for his truck, zipped up into a maroon sweatshirt in his passenger’s seat, then took off.

Silvana felt awful. What trouble had she put him in?

Kurt got in his own car, too, but not before looking at the window and at Silvana, sticking the tip of his tongue through a toothy smile, and chuckling madly.

Silvana waited for them both to leave before redressing and making her way home.

When she got to her house, confused and worried for her mate, she heard her name beckoned from her father’s quarters.

Solaris sat in his velvet armchair, a half-empty bottle of scotch on the table beside him, and a full glass of scotch in his hand. In his other hand was the smiling picture of his Silvana’s mother.

Silvana lost all the breath in her chest.

“Of all the ways in which you might betray me,” Solaris said, gripping the chair and rising stiffly from the seat, “I never in a thousand years expected you might steal this healing remedy.”

Silvana’s eyes widened, and she walked towards her father, ready to explain everything about Bruce’s aunt and the Spirit Scar.

But Solaris wheezed into his sleeve, then drunkenly threw the framed photo at Silvana’s feet. The glass of the picture shattered, and the photo fell from the frame.

“How dare you disobey me like this,” Solaris hollered.

With all his remaining might, he slapped Silvana across the cheek.

It stung raw and red, and she felt the tears welting her eyes. Her father had never struck her before, and him doing so made her feel so worthless, as if the months of training she had just endured were not enough to please him.

Solaris collapsed into his chair and guzzled half the glass of scotch.

He tiredly waved a hand. “Leave here now,” he muttered, “you wretched cur.”

Her heart as shattered as the glass at her feet, Silvana moved with lead legs to the door outside the kitchen. She sat on the stoop in front of the poorly patched heart-shaped hole she had made, and cried into her lap, feeling horrifically alone in the world, and as though she had caused pain to both of the people who meant the most to her.

Meanwhile, Bruce had finished offering a convincing lie to the council. He never explicitly said he wasn’t dating a witch, but he answered the council’s questions tactfully and with grace, keeping his calm the entire time.

Then, he found himself driving around the city, revving his truck’s engine and seeing how fast the vehicle would go. Anger burned in his chest, and he felt possessed behind the wheel, like he was being drawn to a specific area while driving.

Eventually, he wound up towards the forest on the other end of the city. He parked his truck, got out, and walked with the moonlight.

“This,” he thought, “is what it means to have your soul bound to a mate.”

He didn’t even realize it, but he had made his way to Silvana’s house. He stared at it, then thought about all the trouble he would make just by being there. He didn’t want to make her life any harder than it was.

Bruce turned around and headed for his truck.

But a scent caught him dead in his tracks, and his ear perked as he heard soft sobs.

Something protective in him activated, and he strode directly to the sound of the crying, where he found Silvana on the stoop.

Without a word, he sat next to her and wrapped his arm around her, rubbed her shoulders, and kissed the top of her head.

“Whatever happened,” he said. “I’m here now.”