Nothing prepares me for what happens in the next few moments. Mason is walking through the forest litter ahead of me, roiling waves of desire pulsing between the two of us.
Beyond the eavesdropping of curious eyes, he stops under a gnarly pine, slowly turning around to face me.
'It tastes like vampire venom seeing you again,' he begins.
'That can't taste like strawberry ice cream, can it?' I return.
Mason sets his perfect jawline in a furious line. 'The Imperials are putting up a signed bounty for Dean,' he says.
That's it! If he'll be the spark, then I'll be the fuel.
'The man you ratted out, you snake!'
'I did him a favour, kid! Would you prefer the Imperials find out some other way? This way, Dean lives if he plays his cards right.'
'Really, Mason? He lives?' Although I showed no sign of it, being called a kid by Mason had a bite.
'I had the responsibility as a Lycaone to mete out justice that night, Claire; to punish Dean and his pack.' To punish you, Mason hints, the unspoken words attending his spoken ones. 'But I chose the easier way, Claire.'
I involuntarily step forwards. 'What are you saying, Mason?'
Desire flashes in the recesses of Mason's eyes: a converging of need and devotion; the compulsion to protect what you love even at the expense of your own happiness.
I am in Mason's mind. And I can see that the thoughts there are contrary to my former opinions.
I step in for a kiss that doesn't come. Instead, Mason eviscerates his passion with a rush of lycan fury. 'You have hurt me, Claire.'
'The mate bond? You deserve it,' I say in a low voice.
Mason sharpens his resolution against the huskiness of my voice. 'You sent Olligrander to Europe with pictures of the two of us. You have no idea how much damage those pictures have caused—even Olligrander didn't presage the damage: new wounds have been inflicted and old ones are reopened.'
'What are you saying, Mason?'
He looks down at me; gosh he is very tall. This time, is irritation is not forced. 'The Imperial Circle is once again debating the removal of a certain bastard.'
'You!' I blurt. Somehow, the irony of it hits me, and I can't help but laugh as tears of sadness leak from the corners of my eyes. 'Funny how you should hate your own medicine. Didn't you do something similar to Dean?'
Mason groans, more like a supersonic whine. 'You don't understand, do you? The mere fact that I didn't try to destroy Dean on the spot, destroy you and the rest of the pack, is a critical argument for my disposal.'
I catch a whiff of a fleeting emotion, attended by a thought, from Mason. 'So Augusta Lycaone gave you an express order to remedy that oversight. She sent you here now to end us either way.'
As though he has bit into some salad and greens, Mason's face assumes a disgusted grimace. 'White,' he spits like the very name is a constant annoyance.
'But Olligrander was there that night. And Vanessa's powers were still in good shape even if her body wasn't. No offence Mason, but spread out between Dean, Vanessa and Olligrander, I doubt you could have done anything to us. The Imperials should know that.'
'I am not any huntsman like Rufus whom Vanessa can singlehandedly defeat with her mind—though that was in itself a feat that the werewolf world is still finding it difficult to come to terms with. There are whispers that a tri-composite wolf—blame Lauren for the term, with the powers of a White, would outperform any White ever to have been in existence, especially as alpha.
'The world is turning against you, Claire. You may need to turn yourself in.'
'Is that some sick wordplay, Mason? Is your solution to anything the cowardly way out?' I hiss, staring into the pools of his blue eyes which are staining red.
'I got a message from Lauren, something about you and Wilhelm Wade plotting against the Imperials,' Mason mentions, staring deeply into my face.
'If you are asking if it's true, it is,' I challenge.
Mason gives a longer, pained groan. 'Do you have a death wish?'
'Do you really lack a heart?' I return acidly.
'This is not a joke, Claire!'
'Am I laughing?' I shout back.
Mason looms over me for a moment, then he begins to pace. He is so attractive, my werewolf side still wants to jump him. I root myself in place.
'What are you doing about this unnecessary mate bond?' He fires abruptly.
'Doing?' I blurt.
'How are you undoing this? You know you don't need a mate bond with a Lycaone,' Mason says.
'You are not a Lycaone. You are Mason With-no-last-name, remember? Augusta Lycaone doesn't think you deserve her name, not before the mate bond or after.' I wallow in Mason's recent memories of his mother. 'Besides, I like how the bond infuriates her.'
'You can't go against my mother,' Mason warns. To his words, I simply just smile. 'Stop being stupid about all this, Claire,' he responds.
'That's it,' I spin about. 'I'm going back to school.'
I have barely taken a step, my foot is still in the air close to the forest floor, when Mason grips my hand. 'You are not going anywhere,' he growls, eyes ablaze like hot coals.
He yanks me towards him and pins me to a tree. His strength is lycan. His fingers are wrapped—linked like a chain around my throat, squeezing. 'Undo. The. Bond,' he strains with effort.
'I…c-c-can't,' I wheeze, shocked at the turn of events. Something akin to murder is in Mason's eyes.
'All fine,' he says in false pleasantness. 'I know of a way to get rid of the mate bond.' His fingers squeeze even tighter, until my head feels like a hot air balloon. 'Easypeasy: can't fashion a mate bond when you're dead, eh?'
***
I batter my fists against Mason's bulk, but it isn't too effective. Gathering all my Elderwood strength—and my alpha strength, I throw Mason like a rag doll.
Only to follow him, since his grip on my neck is like a vise.
We tumble through the dirt: not exactly the romantic acrobatics my werewolf side initially imagined. I claw and punch and kick; but a mountain would have yielded instead.
Then I dip into Mason's mind. Someone is there: a telepathist: Lauren's telepathist. I pitch myself against them instead, and Mason's grip slackens. Shaking his head, he dispels the rest of the mental onslaught with a word of command: 'Stop!'
Mason's voice of command is purer than Rufus'. I freeze against my will, so does the telepathist wherever they are; even the wind and animals and birds in the forest become still.
But my mind can still move. I follow the trail in Mason's mind and track down the telepathist. 'You won't get away!' I swear as I bombard her mind with everything I have.
Mason's red eyes clear to their beautiful blue, like the sky returning to its place after an eclipse. His full length is on top of me, and his shirt is shredded.
He moves to stand, but his eyes snag on my lips. Colour rises in my cheeks like a bad case of inflammation. 'I think you should get off me,' I say as unwelcomely as I can manage. The harshness is enough because even the desire clears from Mason's eyes and he gets off.
I try my best to dust off my clothes, but it isn't much good. Thankfully, I have a spare dress in my locker.
'I think you should get on your way, Mason,' I say, walking away, not looking back. I walk back to school, where first period is over. I join the crowd milling about their lockers, punch in the combination to mine, and snatch out the spare dress.
'You look like you got some,' Alicia breathes as she comes over, appraising my look.
I slam the locker. 'We had a little roll in the dirt but not what you think.'
'Tri-composite wolf!' Alicia snarls.
I pause as her eyes glaze over and her face slackens, losing all expression. I glance across the hallway: everyone is looking at me with the same dumb zombie expression.
The lycan telepathist has control of all their minds, I realize too late. The whole school descend on me like a pack of wolves.