CHAPTER 5

TYBALD

To Tybald, there were only two things important in this world: his family and the Blood Moon pack. They were, however, interchangeable as the Blood Moon pack was and had always been his family, and at the same time, his family, Caleb, his wife, they were the same as the pack.

Family was like a pack—once you had them, you could never lose them. You could never give them away, even if you wanted to. They left their marks all over a man, paw-prints in the soil, proof that the were there once. That they would always be present, even when they were not. Tybald understood this well, perhaps more than any person he had ever known. How could he not? The war of wolves and vampires had ended nearly a lifetime ago, fought and won when there was not yet salt in his hair, when he was young and brutishly strong. Yet those that he had loved and lost to the battle were there with him, they walked at his side in the light and in the shadows. His father, blood brothers, his wolf brothers. At night, when the world was deadly quiet, Tybald saw their faces. So he knew that to ask his son, Caleb, to take the Hamilton girl would be to curse him with her presence for eternity. Yet.

It was the most prudent thing to be done. His son had, quite surprisingly, taken heed to his instruction; the young man had seen the wisdom in it. He had shown intellect in doing so. There was, perchance, still hope for him. But Tybald knew many would be asked, so he was not surprised when his wife turned to him midway through the fest.

'Are you going to tell me what in tarnation is going on, Tybald?' She whispered viciously.

'Relax and enjoy the ceremony, woman. We will not speak on the matter here.'

'So this was your doing,' she shook her head. 'I could smell your fingerprints all over it.'

Tybald kept his eyes on the crowd who had gotten over their initial shock, or were at least pretending to. Five dancers, two male and three female entertained them. Coated in bronze glitter, their bodies moved like old magic. They wore thin red clothes around their waists, and for the women around their breasts.

Luna did not relent from her interrogation, but she did keep her smile on, such that she spoke from behind gritted teeth. 'But why, Tybald. What reason could you have for this... this ... this abomination. The boy was supposed to make his own choice, absent of your meddling!'

'Watch it, Luna. That's your son's mate—and your daughter-in-law—sitting there. I think it would be wise to refrain from calling her by any names other than the one she bears.' Tybald's eyes meet hers finally. 'Luna.' He said.

' Tybald, I'll be damned if I let that thing into my house.' Her voice rose high. 'I will be damned.'

'It is my house, Luna. Mine.' Tybald said cooly.

The pitch of her voice was drawing attention. Caleb who was next to his mother a few feet away turned, a brow raised. Khloe seated at his right hand, sat stiffly— as if she could tell that the upheaval concerned her—a pretend smile plastered onto her lips. It did not reach her eyes. Sitting in such close proximity, Tybald could see for the first time just how white she was. White as winter. White as the vampires that Tybald had fought and barely won against. It was not difficult to see why the people thought she was a curse to them. It was not difficult at all.

'Luna, you will welcome her with open arms and a hospitable countenance.'

'At least tell me why.'

Tybald watched his wife silently for a moment, the music and festivity a distant cacophony. 'The Moon Dance, Luna. All that power. Imagine what happens when we have such raw power in the bloodline. Imagine what happens when we harness that. We would be a force to be reckoned with. Not only in the West. We would have the world in palm of our hands.'

Across his wife's face, something that resembled understanding blossomed like a full moon.

CALEB

'More wine, Caleb?' Farris asked, gesturing with a glass wine pitcher.

In answer, Caleb placed his palm over the rim of his cup, and shook his head. He had no taste for the wine as it turned out, even if he did need it. He wanted his mind clear of alcohol so he could think.

'Well, suit yourself.' The bearded man said. He emptied the contents of the pitcher into his chalice. Farris was one of the last of his father's pack, a big man with big arms and a big laughter. He had lost an ear in the war decades before Caleb was born, and he hid the stump by wearing his hair down around his face like a curtain and by letting his beard stay overgrown. Caleb never paid him much mind. For all his strength, he had very little brains.

Around the table, most had taken to the red wine. His mother had joined in too, she began to ingest it in heavy gulps. Khloe, though. She had not touched her wine. She ate the food on her plate as though it were an occupation. The truth was, ruining things for him was her occupation.

'You haven't touched your wine,' he mentioned, fighting his instinct to be impolite.

'Oh... I haven't? I did not know.' She promptly took a swig, then grimaced. Cassie would have chugged it down three times over, then asked for another. At the thought of Cassie, Caleb almost smiled. Almost.

'It is not to your liking?'

She began to say something, but Farris came to her defence. 'How can such fine wine not be to anyone's liking, eh? What are you saying, boy?' He turned to the other wolves at the table, grease glistening in his dark heard. 'He asks if the wine is not to her liking. I say, any man that doesn't recognize this for the good wine it is should be driven off. Such a man is a fool!' Farris roared.

The laughter at the table was loud and deafening, but Caleb heard nothing of it. He had finally figured it out, how to get rid of Khloe Hamilton.

Farris, you mad oaf, he thought. You are a genius.