It Ends with Her (Becoming the Wolf Book 5) Read online

  IT ENDS WITH HER

  (BECOMING THE WOLF, BOOK 5)

  By T. S. JOYCE

  Other Books in this Series

  Behind the Beginning (Book 1)

  Hold Steady (Book 2)

  Protect Mine (Book 3)

  It Begins with Her (Book 4)

  It Ends with Her

  Copyright © 2020 by T. S. Joyce

  Copyright © 2020, T. S. Joyce

  First electronic publication: June 2020

  T. S. Joyce

  www.tsjoyce.com

  All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the author’s permission.

  NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. The author does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.

  Published in the United States of America.

  Contents

  Other Books in this Series

  Copyright

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Epilogue

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  About the Author

  Prologue

  Larius was about to take a wooden stake to this entire coven if they didn’t obey his commands.

  “Marissa.” He tried her name on his tongue again, but it didn’t feel right. She wasn’t Marissa. She was Sable. What did all this mean that the Silver Wolf Clan was being reborn at the exact same time Sable had been reborn? And on top of that…she was their guardian?

  Fate was fucking with him. Bad.

  He jogged across the cobblestone street and winced at the brightness of the streetlamp. Down the alley there was a heavy iron door. He entered the code into the keypad and shoved it open easily.

  Inside, Lattimore Dunleavy sat behind a greeting desk.

  “Aelred is busy,” Lattimore said through a bloody grin. His fangs were out, and red dripped down his chin.

  Larius canted his head and studied the tall vampire with the long blond hair tied at the base of his neck. “You’re feeding again? Last time I came to visit, you were feeding then, too.”

  Lattimore shrugged. “When Aelred eats, we eat.”

  Larius slid a glance to the door and back to Lattimore. “Why would the ancient one need to feed so often. It’s once a month. You know the rules. Aelred was the one who made it.”

  Lattimore sneered. “You’re making a lot of judgements for a vampire who was kicked off the council.”

  Larius faded to smoke and reappeared right in front of Lattimore, his hand digging into his throat. Low, he said, “I’ll ask whatever questions I like, peasant. You do remember your station, don’t you? I can remind you. Would you like me to remove your arm so you can think about the way you speak to me while it grows back? Should take a decade or so.”

  Lattimore’s breath trembled as he shook his head. “No.”

  “No…what?”

  “No, sir.”

  Larius squeezed a little harder. It had been so long since he’d hurt someone. Three days at least. His fingers itched to snap Lattimore’s neck. Then he could drop his body to the ground and sit back and watch his spine heal itself slowly just to listen to Lattimore’s pained screams.

  But…

  Sable. No, Marissa. Sable hadn’t liked the violence, and now that she was reborn, Larius felt… What was this feeling? Guilt? Mercy? Goodness? Ugh, he wanted to vomit.

  He tossed Lattimore into the wall. It was concrete so the most powerful coven in the world wouldn’t find themselves at the risk of splinters. Wood was very very bad for vampires.

  Lattimore landed with a thud on the floor, and Larius let himself in through the door.

  “You can’t go in there!” Lattimore yelled. But when he appeared in the open doorway behind him, Larius turned and exposed his fangs, snarled and snapped his fingers. The door slammed closed in Lattimore’s terrified face.

  Telling him what to do? Bold for a vamp who was only a hundred years young.

  The hallway was damp, the sounds of dripping water hitting the stone floor. Above him, there were old chandeliers made of stag antlers hanging from the tall ceiling every few yards, but the lightbulbs in them were atrociously dim. Some of the ancient ones preferred living in homes that matched the era they were born, but this wasn’t Larius’s preferred décor. He liked to adjust to the times, so to speak.

  Down the long hallway, past seven doors, and on the eighth, he pushed it open.

  Aelred was sitting behind a massive mahogany desk, draining a man. The man was already dead, and his eyes stared vacantly at Larius.

  “You kill them now?” Larius asked, not bothering to hide the disgust in his voice.

  Aelred’s eyes were completely black as he removed his mouth from the victim’s neck and tossed the body aside. He’d put on muscle weight since Larius had last seen him.

  “You mean I kill them again? I only stopped killing them because you asked me to when you were second in my coven. Back when you were my brother.”

  “I was never your brother. We weren’t forged the same way, Aelred. You don’t have to kill them. You have money and plenty who would volunteer. You had a good system.”

  “Systems get boring when you’re my age.” He’d cut his red hair shorter and grown a beard.

  “You cut your hair. You haven’t changed your hair in a century. What’s happening? What’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing’s wrong, Larius. I’m bored.” He flicked his fingers, and the body slid across the floor and out the door Larius had just entered to lean against the wall out in the hallway.

  When Larius turned back to Aelred, he was standing right in front of him, his hands clasped behind his back, his breath smelling like fresh blood. “I’m fine.” He narrowed his eyes and studied Larius. “I think it’s you who are different. Why are you here? To scold me about my eating habits? No.” He shook his head and walked a circle around Larius. “You rarely visit here, brother.”

  “I’m not your brother.”

  “You know what I mean. For a hundred years, you were my right hand. You were my friend. And then you vanished.”

  “Because you killed her.”

  “Nah, you waited around a couple years after that. You tried to forgive me.”

  Larius’s empty chest ached. “Sable is back.”

  Aelred froze in front of him. “What?”

  “She’s been reborn.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Larius pulled the pictures from his back pocket. The first was an aged photo of Sable that he’d carried for all these years. The second was one he’d taken of Marissa. Same hair, same color, same smile, same hue of eyes.

  “It can’t be,” A
elred whispered, staring at the pictures in his hands.

  “She even has the same freckle patterns. Same height. Same laugh. She even smells the same.”

  “Did you mark her already?” Aelred looked even paler than before. White as a ghost.

  “Of course, I did, Aelred. I wouldn’t give you time to do that to her.”

  “Where is she?”

  “She’s with the Silver Wolf Clan.”

  “Fuck!” Aelred yelled, his voice echoing in the cavernous room. “Why? Why would she end up there? Is she a wolf?”

  “Aelred—”

  “Is she a wolf?” he bellowed.

  “In this life, she is a werewolf. The Clan isn’t to be harmed while she is a member.”

  “Fuck that, and fuck you for demanding something so ridiculous. We cannot let Morgan Crawford breed. We can’t let the wolves grow their numbers in that way, or you know what will happen. We will be annihilated, and it’ll be the eighteen-hundreds all over again. I’m sorry, Larius, but—”

  “You promised a favor when you killed Sable, and this is it. I’m calling it in.”

  “No. Ask anything else of me.”

  “The Silver Wolf Clan stays safe as long as she is with them.” Larius leaned in and gripped Aelred’s shirt, pulled him close. “As your once brother, I’m making you a promise, too. Harm her or her Clan, and I’ll stake you myself.”

  Aelred’s face transformed to one of fury, but Larius didn’t care. He would burn every vampire to the ground if harm came to Sable again. He shoved him backward and walked out of the room, past the body, and down the hall.

  He only looked back once, and Aelred was glaring at him with such vivid hatred.

  Good.

  Larius flicked his fingers and slammed the door between them.

  Chapter One

  “Because they don’t realize the power of an Omega yet,” Greyson Crawford murmured.

  Marissa Henry puffed air out of her cheeks and leaned back against the comfy office chair hard. “I didn’t ask to be an Omega. I don’t want any of this. I don’t like doing these meetings, Grey.”

  When he canted his head, his jaw-length blond hair shifted out of his gold eyes. “I know.”

  “Then why do you keep asking me to do it?”

  “Because you’ve gotten us out of how many wars now, Marissa?”

  “I don’t know,” she muttered, pulling at a loose string on her skinny jeans.

  “Just…take a guess.”

  She shrugged. “A lot.”

  “Fuck yeah, a lot. You have a way of talking dominants down. Of charming them, soothing their wolves until they can see reason. And that’s when I come in there and hit them with a threat, and Morgan swoops in there and hits them with logic. Sending you in first stops people from getting hurt.”

  Oh, he wasn’t talking about the Dallas packs getting hurt. Grey was a monster, tasked with protecting this clan of rare Silver Wolves, and he was deadly good at it. For as many wars as she’d stopped, his wolf had started more. He’d been on a protective tear in the five years since his mate, Morgan, had had her first Silver Wolf pup, Thorne.

  And speaking of, the dark-haired little boy with the light blue eyes bolted through the open office door, around the giant desk, and straight into his dad’s arms. Grey winced hard when he caught him. Marissa narrowed her eyes thoughtfully as she watched Grey stiffly ruffle Thorne’s hair and ask him where his mom was.

  “Hey, Grey?”

  “Mmmm?” he asked distractedly as he examined a paperclip Thorne was showing him.

  “What’s the real reason you’re asking me to do this meeting with the New Orleans pack?”

  Grey slid her a glance and shook his head. “I just need you to is all.” He set Thorne down and patted him on the butt as he told him, “Go tell your momma to rest and stay out of that kitchen. I’ll cook us steaks for dinner tonight.”

  “Okay! Hi Rissa,” Thorne said, motoring past her and back out the door.

  He was probably the cutest kid in the whole world, but also had more energy than any other living being in the entire universe.

  “You usually send at least Morgan with me. And you almost always come with me. But this time you’re both staying here?” She lifted her chin and glared. “What’s going on?”

  Grey huffed out a sigh that turned into a growl. He glanced at the open door, then back to her. “You don’t tell Morgan.”

  Marissa leaned forward and gave a growl herself. “Are you hurt again?”

  Grey lifted the hem of his shirt and exposed a torso completely wrapped in bandages. “Just got the bleeding slowed a couple hours ago, but this has been a tough one to heal.

  “Fuck, Grey,” she whispered. She made her way around the desk and pulled the edges of the bandages to the side, then bit her lip at the gore she found underneath. She could see his rib bones through the torn flesh. “From the last pack fight?”

  He shook his head and murmured low, “Young pack came in while y’all were grocery shopping in town. Three males, just rogues who had linked up.”

  “What did they want?” she asked, replacing the bandages tenderly.

  “Same thing they always want. Morgan. You. The kids.” He relaxed into his chair and gestured around the room. “Everything we’ve built over the last half a decade. I need a rest on this meeting.” The words came out strained, and she got it. Grey hated feeling weak, but he couldn’t let the New Orleans pack smell blood on him or see him hurt. Grey wouldn’t be able to avoid war if the New Orleans pack got bloodlust.

  “Whatever you need,” she said. “I’ve got this.”

  “Not alone, you don’t. I’m sending a bodyguard with you. The New Orleans alpha is a beast.”

  “All alphas are beasts,” she murmured, leaning against the edge of the desk.

  “Not like this one. Rumors say he was a man-eater for a while and built his pack by violence and fear. Well, it’s too many wolves for him to manage now, and they’re thinking of splitting. Half of his pack wants to move to this territory.”

  “The fuck they will,” Marissa muttered. Stupid, dominant werewolves. Obviously, idiot boys had a death wish. No one moved close to Grey. Everyone called him Demon Wolf for a reason.

  “Well, that’s where you come in.” He grinned brightly. “Make them see the error of their ways, yeah?”

  She saluted him. “Will do, Captain. I don’t need a bodyguard, though. Just set the meeting with the alpha and tell him to leave his pack home.”

  “Well, the entire pack is already here staking out territory, and the alpha doesn’t mind well. Dean and I have both told him if you’re harmed in any way, he and his entire pack will be executed, but just to be safe, I’m sending you some help.”

  Marissa glared. She smelled a rat. “Who are you sending me with?”

  Grey lifted a radio to his lips and, as he hit the button, his eyes never left hers when he said, “Hey, Levi. Where are you right now?”

  Mother. Fucker. No, Marissa mouthed.

  Grey nodded and mouthed yes, through a grin.

  No, no, no! This would be too weird. She hadn’t seen him in forever!

  “Uuuh,” Levi said over the radio, “I’m hauling the wood scraps you stacked by the shop to the burn pile in pasture three. Gonna light it up soon if you want to tell the kids to get the hotdogs.”

  “Good man. Hey, the bonfire will have to wait, though. I have another job for you.”

  “Okay, whatever you need. I’ll finish this load and head to the house. Be there in ten.”

  Grey looked mighty smug with himself as he set the handheld radio back on the desk. A small, violent, animalistic part of her wanted to shove the chair he was leaning backward in hard enough to make him fall.

  “Why Levi?” she asked.

  “Because you had a crush on him for three years and never said anything. He’s been gone for a while, and you’ve grown and matured and changed—”

  “Grey, seriously?”

  “—into a stead
y, intelligent, dependable twenty-four your old woman—”

  “Oh, my God, stop talking.” Her cheeks were on fire as she headed for the door.

  “Men are dumb as bricks, Marissa,” he called as she walked out of the office. “We don’t know you like us unless you just say it!”

  His voice echoed down the hallway behind her as she strode right through the massive den and into her room on the other side.

  Okay, first off, this was a late-night gig where she was supposed to be dressed up to charm these village idiots into not killing her pack. She didn’t need a night like that with Levi. Second of all…she’d never had a crush on Levi.

  Liar, her inner wolf huffed through her head.

  “Whatever.” Marissa yanked her suitcase out of the closet and tossed it onto the bed. In went her favorite pair of jeans and everything else she needed for an overnight in Dallas. It was only an hour and a half drive from here in the boonies where Grey had set up territory next to the original Dallas pack, but still. If the meeting ran late, she knew how this went. Grey would already have a room booked for her at a nearby hotel.

  Movement caught her attention out the window. She log-rolled over the bed and pushed the gauzy white curtains to the side.

  Levi was striding across the yard, tugging off a pair of worn work gloves. She hadn’t seen him in two years, not since he’d gone off to trade school. He wanted to apprentice with Grey in his woodshop, but he’d wanted an Associate’s degree first. He wasn’t a nerd, though. Nope. Not even close.

  Holy shit, he’d grown taller and had filled out. He had to be thirty pounds heavier, and it was all muscle. The strong curves of his shoulders pressed against a thin navy T-shirt. He was tan, like he’d been outside a lot, and he wore a short beard now. His brunette hair was cropped short, but longer and messy on top. His biceps were bulging as he twisted the gloves nervously in his hands. His strides were long and powerful, much more graceful than she remembered him. His work boots were scuffed, and his jeans had smears of dirt on them from working. And when he looked up, her breath froze in her throat.