Bitterroot Part 3 Read online

  Bitterroot

  © 2015 Heather Hildenbrand & SM Reine

  Smashwords Edition

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written consent of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are a product of the authors’ imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, either living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the authors.

  Cover design by Melody Pond ©2015

  Cover photo: © Maksim Shmeljov / Dreamstime.com

  Editing, Kristina Circelli, Red Road Editing

  Heather Hildenbrand

  www.heatherhildenbrand.com

  SM Reine

  www.authorsmreine.com

  Regan and Charlie Vuk are finally forced to compete for the position of werewolf pack alpha. The winner gets to lead and she also gets Owen Rossi, the vampire prince’s hand in marriage—whether she wants it or not. But only one sister already has his heart.

  If Regan wins, will she be able to let go of her feelings for Carter and put duty before desire? Will Charlie be able to survive long enough to get a fair shot at the competition and at Owen?

  Before it’s over, both girls will have to compete for more than just the role of alpha. Someone has a grudge and they’ll do anything to exact vengeance on the guilty. Including removing one of the Vuk sisters from the equation.

  Subtle threats escalate to attempted murder. One sister’s life hangs in the balance. The other must do whatever it takes in order to save her pack—and her sibling—including making the enemy her ally.

  Will the vampires and werewolves finally forge peace—or will sibling rivalry prove fatal for them all?

  The epic conclusion to Bitterroot, a 3-part novella series by Heather Hildenbrand & SM Reine

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter One: Regan

  Chapter Two: Charlie

  Chapter Three: Regan

  Chapter Four: Charlie

  Chapter Five: Regan

  Chapter Six: Charlie

  Chapter Seven: Regan

  Chapter Eight: Charlie

  Chapter Nine: Regan

  Chapter Ten: Charlie

  Chapter Eleven: Regan

  Chapter Twelve: Charlie

  Chapter Thirteen: Regan

  Chapter Fourteen: Charlie

  Chapter Fifteen: Regan

  Chapter Sixteen: Charlie

  Chapter Seventeen: Regan

  Chapter Eighteen: Charlie

  Chapter Nineteen: Regan

  Chapter Twenty: Charlie

  Chapter Twenty-One: Regan

  Epilogue: Charlie

  About the Authors

  Part 3

  Chapter One

  Regan

  I woke slowly, chasing the tail end of a dream that involved Mom and me and no pack to rule over. My lids felt lazy, and a smile tugged at the edges of my lips. I rolled, expecting more mattress—and cried out when I met empty air and then the hard floor a second later.

  “Ow.” I sat up and rubbed my elbow.

  My eyes went wide as I took in the familiar surroundings of my bedroom—and the strange man who stood near the window. “What the…?” I straightened, all my senses on alert.

  “Good morning.” The man sat perched on the windowsill, and even before he raised his gaze to mine, I knew. My hackles rose; my wolf pushed to the surface, straining to break free. My canines elongated before I could stop them and I tasted my own blood as they cut into my lip.

  “How did you get in here?” I hissed around my sharpened teeth.

  He threw his hands up, palms open, in surrender. “I’m not here to hurt you,” he said and his crimson eyes seemed to back up his statement. He stayed where he was, but every single muscle inside me coiled up, ready to shift and spring if he so much as leaned forward.

  The air crackled between us.

  “What do you want?” I asked in a low voice. But what I really wanted to know was how in the hell a vamp had gotten inside my house—let alone our borders—undetected.

  “I came to warn you,” he said.

  “Warn me about what?” My brows wrinkled in confusion at why he would ever want to help me. I didn’t know him, personally, but he was a vampire. And they didn’t give two sh—

  “You’re in danger, Regan, from your own kind, and you need to know before it’s too late. I wasn’t supposed to approach you or say anything unless…” His expression crumbled and for a second, there was such stark pain that it made me hesitate. I stared at him, genuinely moved by whatever lay behind the hurt he wore. But then he blinked and it cleared and he wore that mask I recognized on them all. No feeling. Nothing. “I knew your mother,” he said.

  The words were like a slap.

  “What?” I managed, shooting to my feet in the process. Alarm speared through me and my fingers curled around the blanket to keep from shifting to paws.

  “Myra and I were … we were friends. She made me promise to keep it a secret unless something happened to her, and clearly—”

  “The only vampire my mother knew was the one who killed her,” I said through closed teeth. The closest to a growl I could do as a human rose up in my throat.

  The vampire looked, if anything, frustrated. Defeated. “I know you don’t trust me. Fine. But I came to tell you to stop trusting your own people, too. They aren’t helping you by forcing you into this contest. In fact, they are trying to use it to harm you.”

  “To harm me,” I repeated, disbelief coating my words. “Do you hear yourself? You guys realize you’re never going to get on our good side so now you’re trying to cause a rift among our own ranks, is that it?”

  “None of my people know I’m here. I’d appreciate you keeping it that way.” A muscle shifted in his jaw. “Your friends are not who you think.”

  He took a step backward, toward my open window where dawn was just beginning to lighten the sky. “What does that mean?” I asked before he could disappear—and then sat back in surprise once the words were out. Did this mean I believed him? Of course not, this was outrageous.

  He paused and seemed to debate whether or not to answer me. I leaned forward, and somewhere in the back of my mind I knew I was taking a huge risk putting myself anywhere closer to the monster who had just invaded my bedroom.

  “I can’t tell you that,” he said. He glanced toward the window and then at my bedroom door. My ears perked at whatever his superior hearing had picked up. “You should know that your pack is corrupt. There are those that want to control your decisions,” he continued, backing up another step. “They want war and they’ll do anything to get it.” He swung a leg over the sill and then looked back at me. “Your mother was killed because of a vampire.” The statement sounded more like a question—or a challenge.

  I rolled my eyes, beyond frustrated at this cryptic conversation. “Tell me something I don’t know,” I snap
ped.

  “I never said it was by our hand,” he said.

  I opened my mouth to tell him how confusing that just sounded. Somewhere outside my door, another door banged shut. The vampire’s expression tightened. He swung his other leg around and then, without looking back, said, “Someone from your pack set it up to look like one of us. My people didn’t kill her.”

  “What?” All sense of safety forgotten, I shoved out of the bed. “How do you know?” I demanded, and then fell silent, terrified the sound of my voice would draw whoever was already moving around the house.

  The vampire hesitated only another second. When he spoke, the words were barely above a whisper. “I was there.” And then he shoved off the window and was gone.

  Chapter Two

  Charlie

  Sunlight, so bright it seemed offensive on such a heavy day, poured through the window, waking me before the alarm. My eyes opened, slowly at first, and then I bolted upright as I remembered what day it was. The urge to crawl back underneath the covers was so strong, I deliberately threw the blanket aside and marched into the bathroom to shower and change.

  I found clothes already laid out inside my armoire. The fabric was light and fitted. A note was pinned to the sleeve in flowing script. “For Charlie,” it said. I suspected a woman, but had no idea who. I doubted Regan’s handwriting was that feminine. Sheridan, maybe. The closer we got to this contest business, the more in-charge she seemed.

  I dressed quickly and threw my hair into a ponytail, remembering belatedly how Regan liked to wear hers this way too. I yanked the tie out and let it fall over my shoulders with a scowl just as a heavy knock sounded on my door.

  I was surprised to find Al waiting for me. His hulking frame filled my doorway and then some. “I’m here to escort you to the arena,” he said. His deep voice was neutral, devoid of any emotion. Just as well. I doubted he was rooting for me anyway. Better this than open support for my opponent.

  My opponent.

  The thought made me nauseous. I swallowed hard and forced my mind to go blank as I followed him out. I couldn’t afford to think. I concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. We were at the arena all too soon.

  As we rounded the last turn, I averted my eyes to the crowd I could already hear murmuring while they waited. I couldn’t bear to look at them just yet—not when I knew they were all here for Regan anyway. Just ahead, Al took a sharp left and darted through a doorway cut into the outer wall. I followed, relieved I wouldn’t have to enter through the high archway that faced the stands. At the end of a short hall, we took a right and ended inside a small holding room. No furniture. Just a dirt floor and a single window overlooking the arena floor.

  The angle was wrong to see anyone in the stands and I was grateful. Through the small window, I scanned what I could see of the grassy ground floor where the competition would take place. There were a few obstacles strewn about: some boulders of varying sizes, a few uprooted trees, and even two dilapidated cars. It took me a moment to realize that the groupings were symmetrical. Three boulders, two trees, and a car on one side, and the same setup on the other side where another entrance had been cut into the wall. Regan’s door, I assumed.

  At the sight of the duplicate courses, I felt relief so strong my eyes watered. Separate shows of strength; not against each other. I would face inanimate objects. Not my sister. This was doable.

  I turned to find Al still hovering out in the hallway that led to backstage. Beyond him, the massive staging area was busy with bodies scurrying here and there. It seemed out of place, like backstage at a rock concert, the way they hurried about messing with cables and stage curtains and microphone cords.

  I looked up at Al again and he regarded me with a somber expression. “Do you need anything?” he asked in a deep voice.

  “No, thank you,” I said, knowing full well that even if I did need something, I sure as hell wasn’t asking him for it. He nodded with a small dip of his chin and pushed the door shut, sealing me in.

  From here, I was on my own.

  I wandered back to the window, trying to get my bearings—and not hyperventilate. The floor was dirt. The walls were wooden. It was cheaply constructed and hurriedly built. There was a cutout for a door leading into the arena, but no handle. Next to that, a bottle of water sat on the window sill. There was no glass fitted into the frame so I went to it and breathed in the fresh air. My wolf stained against the confines of the thick walls and, despite my trepidation, I hoped we wouldn’t be made to wait here for long.

  I tried, finally, to look out into the crowd, but from this angle I could see only the stage. The crowd and the entrance itself were hidden from view. Not that I wanted to see the faces assembled, particularly, but I itched to lay eyes on Owen just once before it all began. Loneliness hit me like a punch in the gut. I wished, fleetingly, that I had called my mom after all.

  From beyond the view of my little window, the crowd’s volume rose as a cheer sounded. I looked right and left, straining to see what had made them come to life. One face, heavily done up in crimson lipstick that contrasted boldly with her shining blonde hair, caught my eye as she made her way up the steps and across the stage. The crowd cheered and clapped at the sight of her. Sheridan smiled wide, soaking it in.

  “Welcome to the Test of Strength. We are here to witness an age-old tradition, a selection process as old as our bloodline. A ritual with meaning, steeped in the same values and rights we hold so dear. Our rights as supernatural creatures—as wolves!” She paused as another cheer went up and I rolled my eyes at how well Sheridan could talk and talk without ever actually saying anything. “I give you the first contestant, Regan Vuk, daughter of Myra!"

  From the opposite side of the stage, a door creaked open. Regan strode out and climbed onto the platform. She raised her hands in the air to greet the cheers of the pack like she was a great dictator. And they ate it up. They responded by cheering harder and louder.

  She looked like an alpha: calm and composed and confident. Her outfit was identical to mine, but she seemed to wear it better. A makeshift crown, crafted from fresh flowers, was woven through her hair in a complicated twist. I doubted she’d done it herself, which only meant she’d had an entourage of help getting ready this morning, while I’d gotten ready alone.

  Her solemn expression gave the impression she’d done this a thousand times before; facing her own sister in the arena would be no problem. Regan looked less like a human and more like a force of nature that had climbed free of the forest.

  “Charlie Vuk, daughter of Anita,” Sheridan shouted.

  And then my door was opening, too. The crowd roared as daylight splashed on my face. I kept my steps slow and even to hide my nerves as sunlight washed over me. I tried to embody all of those wonderful, powerful things I saw in Regan as I climbed up on the platform, but my heart beat erratically and painfully against my ribs.

  My toe caught on an uneven plank of wood, and my foot slipped. I landed on my knees at the top of the steps.

  Laughter.

  It echoed around the stadium. Cheeks flaming, I straightened. The imagery that I’d basically bowed before Regan wasn’t lost on me. People were still cheering, but I didn't think they were cheering for me. They were calling out Regan's name. The crowd had already picked their winner.

  I wanted to crawl back to my holding room and disappear.

  But then a pale face among the rest caught my attention, and I looked up to see Owen gazing straight at me, as though the arena was completely empty of anybody but us. I remembered the feel of his lips on mine, his fingers laced through my own, his gentle words elevating me. He promised to be here for me, and he was.

  It wasn’t easy, but I found composure about two seconds before I would have given up and dived off the stage into hiding. I even managed to raise a hand and wave for the audience, for whatever little it meant.

  As I swept the crowd, I caught sight of Dad near the front. Al and Sylvia flanked him and behind him
, glowering with arms crossed, was Carter’s dad. I looked away and shut them all out.

  “Ladies.” Sheridan gestured to the ground below the stage. “Please take your places below.”

  Regan gave me a little nod and walked to the stairs.

  She shifted into her wolf form before she reached the ground. It was a smooth, rapid transition, and it cued renewed shouts of her name. Her wolf was tall and proud. Somehow, the flowers remained tangled in the ruff of hair around her face. It should have looked silly, but it didn't. She was beautiful and proud.

  I shifted, too, just a moment later. My feet stretched into paws and I jerked at the last second, mostly out of nervousness. I hoped no one noticed as four paws landed on the hard dirt and I made my way to the center where grass softened my footfalls.

  “As it has long been tradition for our pack, the contest for the position of alpha must begin with a demonstration of strength. Only the strong may dominate our pack.” Sheridan addressed the crowd, but I knew her words were mostly for my benefit. “Only the powerful can lead. It is on strong backs and mighty muscles that our future is forged, and so our alpha must be the strongest of them all!”

  Cheers. Screams.

  I was so glad that wolves couldn’t make facial expressions, because it meant nobody could tell that I was just about to throw up from nerves. I glanced sideways and found Owen, stoic and staring—unmoved by the reaction from the crowd. It helped calm me, but I forced myself to look away. The last thing I needed was Bevin standing up and yelling that I was making wolf-eyes at the enemy.

  Sheridan went on, “In our first stage, the Test of Strength, Regan and Charlotte must demonstrate who is stronger by pushing each of these objects as far as possible in one shove. Ladies...”

  I stared at Sheridan a second longer, waiting for the rest of her instructions. But she turned away, gesturing for us to move into position. Was that really it? I had been expecting a fight with a bear or something, but we just had to push some junk around?