Андреа Кремер: Nightshade

“All worthy females have finesse, my dear.” She touched my cheek, letting her nails scrape hard enough to make me flinch.

My stomach lurched.

Her stiletto heels struck a sharp staccato on the tile as she left the kitchen. The wraiths trailed behind her, their silence more disturbing than the unnerving rhythm of her steps. I drew my knees up to my chest and rested my cheek against them. I didn’t breathe again until I heard the front door close.

“You’re awfully tense,” my father said. “Did something happen on patrol?”

I shook my head. “You know I hate wraiths.”

“We all hate wraiths.”

I shrugged. “Why was she here anyway?”

“To discuss the union.”

“You’re kidding.” I frowned. “Just me and Ren?”

My father passed a weary hand over his eyes. “Calla, it would be helpful if you wouldn’t treat the union like a hoop to jump through. Far more is at stake than ‘just you and Ren.’ The formation of a new pack hasn’t occurred for decades. The Keepers are on edge.”

“Sorry,” I said, not meaning it.

“Don’t be sorry. Be serious.”

I sat up straight.

“Emile was here earlier today.” He grimaced.

“What?!” I gasped. “Why?”

I couldn’t imagine a civil conversation between Emile Laroche and his rival alpha.

My father’s voice was cold. “The same reason as Lumine.”

I buried my face in my hands, my cheeks once again on fire.

“Calla?”

“Sorry, Dad,” I said, swallowing my embarrassment. “It’s just that Ren and I get along fine. We’re friends, sort of. We’ve known the union was coming for a long time. I can’t see any problems with it. And if Ren does, that would be news to me. But this whole process would be much easier if everyone would just lay off. The pressure isn’t helping.”

He nodded. “Welcome to your life as an alpha. The pressure never helps. It also never goes away.”

“Great.” I sighed and rose from my chair. “I have homework.”

“Night, then,” he said quietly.

“Night.”

“And Calla?”

“Yeah?” I paused at the bottom of the staircase.

“Go easy on your mother.”

I frowned and continued up the stairs. When I reached my bedroom door, I shrieked. Clothes were strewn everywhere. Covering my bed, on the floor, hanging from the nightstand and lamp.

“This will never do!” My mother pointed an accusing finger at me.

“Mom!”

One of my favorite vintage T-shirts, from a Pixies tour in the eighties, hung from her clenched fists.

“Do you own anything beautiful?” She shook the offending T-shirt at me.

“Define beautiful,” I returned.

I swallowed a groan, searching for any clothes I particularly wanted to protect, and sat on top of my Republicans for Voldemort hoodie.

“Lace? Silk? Cashmere?” Naomi asked. “Anything that isn’t denim or cotton?”

She twisted the Pixies shirt in her hands and I cringed.

“Do you know that Emile was here today?” Her eyes moved over the bed, assessing the pile of clothes.

“Dad said that,” I replied quietly, but inside I was screaming.

I stroked my fingers along the rope of hair that hung over my shoulder, lifted the end, and caught it between my teeth.

My mother pursed her lips and dropped the T-shirt so she could extract my fingers from the twisted hair. Then she sighed, took a seat on the bed just behind me, and pulled the elastic from the end of the braid.

“And this hair.” She combed out the waves with her fingers. “Why you bind it up all the time is beyond me.”

“There’s too much,” I said. “It gets in the way.”

I could hear the chime of my mother’s chandelier earrings when she shook her head. “My lovely flower. You can’t hide your assets anymore. You’re a woman now.”

With a disgusted grunt I rolled across the bed, out of her reach.

“I’m no flower.” I pushed the curtain of hair back behind my shoulders. Free of the braid, it felt cumbersome and heavy.

“But you are, Calla.” She smiled. “My beautiful lily.”

“It’s just a name, Mom.” I began to gather up my clothes. “Not who I am.”

“It is who you are.” I started at the warning note in her voice. “Stop doing that. It’s not necessary.”

My hands froze on the T-shirt I’d grabbed. She waited until I placed the half-folded shirt back on the coverlet. I started to say something, but my mother held up a silencing hand.

“The new pack forms next month. You’ll be the alpha female.”

“I know that.” I fought off the urge to throw dirty socks at her. “I’ve known that since I was five.”

“And now it’s time for you to start acting like it,” she said. “Lumine is worried.”

“Yeah, I know. Finesse. She wants finesse.” I wanted to gag.

“And Emile is concerned about what Renier wants,” she said.

“What Ren wants?” I said, wincing at the shrillness of my voice.

My mother lifted one of my bras from the bed. It was plain white cotton—the only kind I owned.

“We need to think about preparations. Do you wear any decent lingerie?”

The burning in my cheeks began again. I wondered if excessive blushing could cause permanent discoloration.

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

She ignored me, muttering under her breath as she sorted my things into piles, which, since she’d ordered me to stop folding, I could only presume were “acceptable” and “to be discarded.”

“He’s an alpha male and the most popular boy at your school. At least by all accounts I’m privy to.” Her tone became wistful. “I’m sure he’s accustomed to certain attentions from girls. When your time arrives, you must be ready to please him.”

I swallowed sour bile before I could speak again.

“Mom, I’m an alpha too, remember?” I said. “Ren needs me to be a pack leader. Wants me to be a warrior, not the captain of the cheerleading squad.”

“Renier needs you to act like a mate. Just because you’re a warrior doesn’t mean you can’t be enticing.” The sharpness of her tone cut me.

“Cal’s right, Mom.” My brother’s voice piped in. “Ren doesn’t want a cheerleader. He’s already dated them all for the last four years. He’s probably bored as hell. At least big sis will keep him on his toes.”

I turned to see Ansel leaning against the door frame. His eyes swept over the room.

“Whoa, Hurricane Naomi strikes, leaving no survivors.”

“Ansel,” my mother snapped, hands on her hips. “Please give your sister and me some privacy.”

“Sorry, Mom.” Ansel continued to grin. “But Barrett and Sasha are downstairs waiting for you to go with them on night patrol.”

Her eyelids fluttered in surprise. “Is it that late already?”

Ansel shrugged. When she turned away, he winked at me. I covered my mouth to hide my smile.

She sighed. “Calla, I’m serious about this. I put some new clothes in your closet and I expect you to start wearing them.”

I opened my mouth to object, but she cut me off.

“New clothes starting tomorrow or I’ll get rid of all your T-shirts and ripped jeans. End of discussion.”

She rose and swept from the room, her skirt swirling around her calves as she moved. When I heard her steps on the staircase, I groaned and flipped over on the bed. The mound of T-shirts offered a convenient place to bury my head. I was tempted to shift into wolf form and rip the bed apart. But that would get me grounded for sure. Plus I liked my bed, and at the moment it was one of the few things that my mother wasn’t threatening to toss out.

The mattress creaked. I propped myself up on my elbows and looked at Ansel. He perched on the corner of the bed.