Chapter 21

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

A tall wooden fence enclosed the pack house and grounds. Patrin walked through the gate with Moya and Fell beside him. Folding his arms over his chest, he studied the building. The noon sun mercilessly revealed the faded paint and worn shingles.

The pack house. Another thing he was supposed to be in charge of.

Another thing he knew nothing about.

Frustration gnawed at him. Sure, he was a better alpha than brutal, incompetent Brett, but that wasn't saying much. He glanced at his littermate. "I have no fucking clue what I'm doing."

"Makes two of us." Fell eyed the house. "Needs work. Any fool can see that."

"The pack has able-bodied members we can recruit for the actual work." Fuck, what about actual materials? "How do we pay for the paint and lumber?"

"Oh, I forgot you haven't joined a territory before." Moya patted his arm. "The pack has money. You and Heather need to talk. She's a CPA."

"Talk about what?" Patrin glanced at Fell, who looked equally confused.

"About the pack account and money coming in." Moya smiled wryly. "Just like the US government, the Daonain have taxes. We all pay a percentage to our territory, and the Cosantir oversees those funds. Wolves pay a smaller sum to the pack, and you, Alpha, oversee the money."

"I do?" Frustrated past endurance, he considered punching the fence post, but he'd probably knock it down. "Dealing with money isn't in my skill set. Did Brett make off with the funds?"

That could be a problem.

"No, he didn't get the chance. Before the Solstice ceremony, I called Heather to tell her you were our new alpha. She was worried and asked Friedrich to freeze the accounts until you and Quin can deal with them."

"Thank fuck." He knew Quintrell was an older wolf who was the homeschool teacher but hadn't met anyone named Friedrich. "Who is Friedrich?"

"Friedrich Schumacher. Werecat and Elder." Moya took his and Fell's hand, leading them up the sidewalk to the house. "He also owns and manages the bank. Quin has handled the pack finances for years."

"But he didn't keep up with the maintenance here?" Fell asked.

"The alpha must approve expenditures, and Roger was a pinchpenny. Although he did buy new furniture for the house when he moved in. The weasel." She wrinkled her nose. "I guess we should be glad he didn't steal pack funds the way his brother, Pete, embezzled from the clan. Roger wasn't a thief."

"Taxes. Pack funds and houses… For fuck's sake, this is like entering a dark cave even knowing it to be a bear den." Patrin growled in frustration. "I don't even know what I don't know."

"Sorry, brawd." Fell's eyes darkened. "My fault we didn't grow up in a pack. Because I couldn't be trusted."

"By the Gods, you were trustworthy enough; you just never stopped talking." Patrin backhanded his gnome-brain brother in the gut. "Besides, you're not the only reason we moved to Dogwood. Mum was hoping to find mates."

Rubbing his abdomen, Fell shot Patrin a disgruntled glare. "Toothless fleabag." After a moment, he asked, his voice quiet, "She actually wanted to move?"

"Yeah, I overheard her talking to the neighbor. Apparently, she'd mated with all good local males during Gatherings, and no one suited her, and Dogwood had a better selection." Patrin huffed a laugh. "Now that we've attended Gatherings, I finally understand what she was talking about. At the time, I was clueless."

"Huh." Some of the remorse was gone from Fell's eyes.

Moya burst out laughing. "Gods, you two are just like Ramón and Zorion. If you were female, Fell would've gotten a hug for feeling bad. But noooo , instead you hit him."

"Awww, do you want a hug, brawd?" Patrin asked in a sweet, sweet voice—and almost landed on his ass from his brother's shove.

They were both grinning though—because the sound of the little wolf's laughter brightened the entire day.

Pulling her close, Patrin kissed the top of her head.

And fuck, the feeling of her soft body, her feminine scent, reminded him of other activities they could be doing rather than inspecting a pack house.

Tilting her head up, she went up on tiptoes to kiss him…and undoubtedly caught a whiff of his lust. "Concentrate, Alpha. We have work to do."

"I'd rather play," he muttered and heard Fell's echo, "Me too."

"Males." Shaking her head, Moya towed them onto the porch.

Patrin exchanged a grin with his brother over the top of her head. She was decidedly appealing when she got bossy.

No, she was always appealing.

Since the Gathering last Saturday, they'd spent most of their free time with her. The bookstore and bar had closed for a couple of days during the human holiday called Christmas, and they'd had snowball fights and run the trails as wolves.

Other days, he played basketball with various cubs and Talitha, while Fell, Moya, and Eileen lifted weights. The three would occasionally stop to cheer a basket.

Patrin smiled—because Moya's Solstice present for him had been a basketball, a baseball, and a mitt. She knew him well.

When he worked at the Bullwhacker, Moya and Fell sat at the bar, kept him company, and she'd introduce shifters they hadn't met. The female knew everyone.

Aside from a couple of dinners at the Shamrock, they cooked together. Having the patience—something Patrin lacked—to wait for eggs to cook, Fell was growing skilled at breakfast and other meals. Probably why Moya had given him a cookbook for Solstice—one handwritten with traditional Daonain recipes. They'd found some their mother used to make and had called Darcy to share.

Patrin was mastering the slow-cooker device—a wonder of human invention. Dump everything in it in the morning and feast in the evening.

In reciprocity for cooking lessons, he and Fell sparred with Moya in wolf and human forms, improving her already competent fighting skills. It was certainly no chore. If she got dumped on her tail, she'd just laugh and try again. They all had fun—and her sneaky attacks could be quite effective.

Still…being wakened in the morning by a tickle attack was simply wrong .

Worth it though to have her in their bed. A few days ago, hoping for the best, he and Fell tied their beds together in Patrin's room. It worked. They all slept together every single night.

Last night, Moya had shooed them away and taken the evening to unwind and read, then appeared at bedtime and joined them for the night. He and Fell had been so fucking pleased. Everything was better with her tucked between them.

As Moya opened the pack house door and called a greeting, Patrin squeezed her hand. He hadn't been this content since he was a cubling running with Darcy and Fell. And he'd never had such peaceful, loving nights or such fulfilling days.

This was what he wanted—for him and Fell to share this brave, brilliant, caring female—and to be granted the gift of loving her all the rest of their days.

"It's Moya and the alpha and beta!" someone inside shouted.

The wolves came running. Moya was hugged by the females and cubs.

To Patrin's surprise, a tiny youngling wrapped her arms around his knees and beamed up at him. "Affa. Hi."

He grinned and picked her up. As he cuddled her, his heart turned to liquid inside his chest. "You must be the bravest wolf in our pack," he told her.

"Am," she agreed.

"Nope." Fell held a small male, ginger-haired cub against his chest, and his rasping chuckle sounded when the pup bounced happily in his arms. "Mine is."

The adults in the house were wide-eyed and silent, staring at the terrifying shifter-soldiers—who'd been reduced to pure goo by cublings.

Then they welcomed Patrin and Fell inside with open enthusiasm.

Our pack.

A while later, after they'd figured out what repairs needed to be made and formulated a plan, Patrin raised his voice. "Next week, there's supposed to be a snowstorm, but for now, the snow is almost melted. Would the pack enjoy a fun twilight run?"

The ground was damp under his paws, soft and fragrant from the recent warm days, and the wolf in Fell loved it all. His littermate ran in front or beside him, close enough they'd occasionally bump shoulders. To his disappointment, Moya chose to run with her pregnant friend Heather near the rear of this half of the pack.

Since they were hunting, the wolves ran quietly, creating only faint sounds of paws on the trail.

The other half of the group—the slower ones or those feeling lazy, along with the cubs—were on a different trail, parallel to this one but farther upslope. Not silent, that batch. He could hear occasional growls, blundering paws, and a yip or two from overly enthusiastic pups.

This wouldn't be a long run since he and Patrin wanted to let the cubs participate. When leading the shifter-soldiers, they'd learned that everyone in a group needed to feel involved.

But with some extra safety measures.

With input from the seniors, he and Patrin had designated responsible older cubs to lead small packs of younglings. Adults would monitor each group and leader. Bullying wouldn't be tolerated, and new skills would be taught.

One more thing to do as beta—he needed to scrutinize the cubs' current mentors and remove any who pushed Brett's divisive attitudes.

A couple of hours ago, he and Patrin had scouted out a deer herd. The noisy half of the pack would drive them in this direction.

At the front, Patrin changed direction, angling off to keep the group downwind.

As the scent of the deer blew toward them, the delectable fragrance sharpened every instinct in Fell's body. The change ran through the rest of the group, pulling them together with one purpose. To hunt.

The reddish rays of the setting sun angled through the trees, illuminating a small meadow where most of the snow had melted. There, a small herd browsed on the exposed grass and short bushes.

A yip sounded from across the meadow, and Fell would have laughed if he'd been human. A cub would be getting a scolding later.

As the other pack closed in, a deer lifted its head, blowing loudly to alert the herd to danger.

Howling loudly, the younglings and senior wolves charged out of the forest. Panicking, the herd fled toward Fell's group.

Perfect.

Fell started to move but felt the order to hold through the pack bonds. The alpha's command halted his paws, leaving him quivering in place. Annoyed, he managed to take a step forward as did a few others, but Patrin's directive was clear. Wait.

They waited.

Then he released them: hunt now.

With the rest of the group, Fell streaked forward.

Faced with the new group of oncoming wolves, the herd veered sharply. The deer were headed toward a creek he and Patrin had located earlier. Still half-covered with snow, the stream wasn't easy to see. Several deer floundered as ice cracked under their hooves. The healthiest, most agile ones escaped into the forest, leaving the slower ones behind.

An older buck had broken its leg and had just managed to gain the top of the bank. Patrin led the attack.

It was a big damn buck—and like most of the herd, hadn't yet shed its antlers.

The pack began to circle as two wolves struck from the rear, biting at the deer's hind end, then darting away. When the buck spun and swung its antlers, others attacked from the sides, slashing at its shoulders and flanks. Again and again.

Moya, a small dark-gray wolf, danced in to attack, here and there. Damn, she was fast.

A yelp came from a slower wolf kicked by a flailing hoof.

As the buck slowed with exhaustion and blood loss, Fell sprang upward and closed his jaws on the animal's nose. His weight pulled its head down as his fellow wolves completed the kill.

Filled with the victory of a successful hunt, all wolves ate well. Fell spotted Moya in the midst of the cubs with her female friends. He might be disappointed she hadn't joined him and Patrin but couldn't begrudge the rest of the pack her fun company.

Eventually, Patrin led them on a leisurely trot back to the clearing to where the pack would disperse and return down the assorted trails to their cars or houses.

Fell moved back under the trees to keep an eye on everything…and to wait for their precious little wolf.

Still seething with anger, Moya was one of the very last to reach the clearing. She'd had to stay with the cubs and Heather, or she'd have been long gone before the lying alpha and his beta arrived.

She hurt with the stabbing sense of betrayal. Patrin had used the pack bonds to force them all to obey him. To force her to obey.

The sweet memory of their first night together when he promised he'd never use coercion on her, on anyone, was shattered into jagged pieces. It had been replaced with the horror of being paralyzed, unable to move at all, shivering as someone else controlled her body.

He did that to me.

She'd trusted him and had been so happy he was the alpha. She'd opened herself to the pack bonds, and it'd felt so sweet to run with the wolves tonight and revel in the sense of belonging.

Until his betrayal turned it all to ash.

I loved him.

I was a fool.

In the clearing, she nosed Heather to join Talitha and the cubs. Talitha would keep an eye on their pregnant friend. They'd all be safe.

Believing Moya would go home with Patrin and Fell, her friends disappeared down the trail.

The males had already shifted to human and were talking.

Growling low, Moya trawsfurred.

Patrin smiled at her, even as he shook his head. "Moya, you should stay wolf. You're going to get?—"

"Oh, are you going to force me to do that too?" The words tangled in her throat, burning like fire. "You…you used the pack bonds on me. On everyone."

Confusion crossed Patrin's face. "But…we were hunting."

"You promised. Y-you?—"

" Cariad ." Frowning, Fell followed Patrin toward her. "That's what the bonds are for. It's a tactical advantage."

How dare he side with his littermate. How dare he agree to take away everything she was for a "tactical advantage".

"I've heard that before. The bonds are there so the alpha can make the pack do whatever he wants. And you did, didn't you!" Anger roaring in her ears, she punched Patrin with all the strength in her body.

"Umph." He staggered back, only a step, before raising a hand to his jaw. "What in the gods'—"

"Don't talk to me. Don't ever speak to me again." She took two steps away and then turned. "If you ever use the pack bonds on me again, I'll tear your throat out."

Shifting to four paws, she escaped down the trail. Toward town. Toward her apartment that was no longer a refuge. Not with the vile, traitorous alpha and his brother living right there across from her.

In the darkness, she submerged herself further into the wolf, into the present where all that existed was the feeling of the damp, needle-strewn dirt under her paws, the scent of the forest in her nose, the wind ruffling her fur.

Wolves didn't cry.

In the morning she'd have a hard think about closing her store and moving far, far away.