Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

H and on the door of Espresso Books, Patrin glanced at his brother. "Before we ask about jobs, I'm getting coffee."

This morning, Gretchen had proudly provided them with a batch of store-bought pastries for breakfast. Not fresh, but as far as Patrin was concerned, the generous amount of frosting improved everything.

Unfortunately, the tasteless, thin liquid she'd brewed bore no resemblance to coffee.

A corner of Fell's mouth tilted up with his agreement, but he didn't speak. He'd been even quieter than usual last night after meeting with the Cosantir and the belligerent alpha.

Something else to worry about.

As they entered Espresso Books, the bell on the door jingled, startling him with the friendly sound.

Sometimes he forgot that not everything and everyone was an enemy.

Wells had warned him about falling into such a mindset. Awareness, yes, he'd said. Paranoia, no. He'd told Patrin to stop now and then and simply enjoy being alive.

Good point. I'm alive; Fell and Darcy are alive.

Pausing, he breathed in the heady aroma of coffee and fresh baked goods filling the air. After a moment, he turned his attention to their surroundings. An automatic survey of escape routes and the people showed no threats. The place had been divided in half for the two stores.

On the right, behind a security grill, the bookstore had shelves and displays of books, jigsaw puzzles, board games, and magazines.

The bookstore was obviously still closed. A shame. He'd rather hoped to see the tiny, dark-haired female who'd punched him.

The left side held the coffee bar and pastry counter. Round oak tables and ladderback chairs filled the center of the room.

Foliage plants and vines ran along the tops of the bookcases and windows and filled the corners. Warm-colored rugs covered the hardwood floor. The cozy atmosphere said, buy a book, grab some coffee, and sit a while . He slapped Fell's shoulder. "Looks like your kind of place, brawd."

"Yeah." His bookworm of a brother smiled.

Huh. Maybe I should stop by later and grab a couple of books to cheer Fell up.

Behind the counter, a slender female, maybe a few years older than him, set up coffee to brew.

The door swung open, admitting four cublings—shifter ones by the scent—and manifesting the usual teenaged stink.

They took seats at a table in the center of the room.

Patrin studied the boys briefly. Two pairs of brothers, he'd guess.

One pair had a freckle-faced cub and a fair-skinned, blue-eyed blond.

The other two boys were stockier and maybe a year older. With brown eyes, hair, and skin, they were probably of Latino ancestry, not Romani like him.

"I don't want to go," one of the browner littermates whined. He rubbed his shoulder. "It took a whole month for my arm to feel better."

"It'll be okay, Alvaro." His brother had curly hair, cut just below his ears. "Talitha will be there this time."

Alvaro scowled. "Cubs don't take the same trails as the adults, remember? She won't be with us."

The blond, blue-eyed boy looked puzzled. "You don't all run together?"

"Nah. Vigulf said the alpha doesn't like cubs. He makes one of the betas cub-sit. Only after the beta got us started on a trail, he disappeared."

Fell frowned at Patrin and muttered, "Pack run?"

They'd mentioned an alpha and beta, so it must have been a wolf pack event, which meant Alvaro and his brother were wolf shifters. And the other two weren't.

What the cubs described didn't sound safe, even if the youngest were at least twelve, which was when Daonain started to shift. But new shifters were clumsy. And pups needed to be supervised, or things got out of hand.

"How'd you get hurt?" the freckle-faced lad asked Alvaro.

"Vigulf and Torkil knocked me off the trail. It was steep—and Mateo had to pull me out of a bush." Alvaro rubbed his shoulder, then grinned. "At least I had three other legs to use. That's so cool."

New shifters . Patrin exchanged smiles with Fell. He still remembered the wonder of having four legs and ears that moved.

"I love having four legs. And a tail ." Mateo smirked at the other two boys.

The way Blondie and Freckles scowled indicated they lacked tails. Must be bear cubs.

Freckles grinned at Blondie. "Tails are easy to grab during tag—like you did last time, right, Sky?"

Sky's high chortle of victory set all four lads to giggling.

Too fucking cute.

"Tonight, we'll do better against the oversize mutts," Mateo assured his brother.

"Why? Because we're a month older?" Alvaro's expression held disbelief. "Stump-head, they'll still be three years older and bigger and outnumber us."

"Can't you, like, tell their parents?" Freckles asked.

"I wish." Mateo sighed. "Their mom's a bear and doesn't care what they do. There are a couple of other sets who have moms who aren't wolves. Two of them give us trouble in town."

"We asked them to leave us alone." Alvaro shook his head. "Mateo got a black eye."

"Yeah, so much for talking." Mateo rubbed his face as if remembering the pain.

Next to Patrin, Fell growled softly. He hated bullies.

Reading his brother's expression, Patrin scowled. No, bad idea. We have a mission. We don't get involved, especially not with cubs. For fuck's sake.

Rather than falling into line, his brother nudged him forward with an unspoken talk to them .

Patrin sighed. Sure, everyone knew he was the alpha littermate between the two of them. But did the gnome-brains realize how often being in front meant someone was pushing from behind?

Nonetheless, he wanted to help as much as Fell did. The mission could wait a while.

At the table, Patrin went down on his haunches beside Mateo. "Hey. Couldn't help but overhear you."

All four of the boys turned pale…because they'd been careless about what they were discussing.

"Nah, nah, you need to be more careful. But no humans heard you…this time." Patrin jerked his chin toward Fell. "We're wolves too. As it happens, we fought others a lot when we were your age."

Not the same kind of fights. He, Fell, and two other littermate sets were the first to shift in Scythe captivity. The instructors used them as experiments in figuring out what shifters could do. Made them fight each other. Then made them fight sadistic, violent mercenaries. Most of his and Fell's scars had come from those years.

All to make good assassins out of them.

At night in the barracks, the shifter captives would work out how to fight each other and others. How to team up. The cubs who'd seen adult shifters fight taught those techniques.

And year by year, the shifter-soldiers grew so deadly the Scythe came to fear them even as they used them.

Patrin smiled at the two wolf cubs. "Fell and I know ways to fight bigger opponents."

Alvaro's eyes widened. "Really? Could you tell us how?"

"We'll show you." Fell's rough voice had the cubs shrinking back for a second.

Then Mateo bounced back like a bent sapling. "Yes!"

Alvaro shook his head. "The pack run is tonight. We won't get good enough today to win against bigger cubs."

The boy was right. Patrin nodded. "Today, we'll teach dodges to make it more difficult to get shoved around. Later, we can work on winning."

Alvaro's eyes lit. "Really?"

"Can we have a lesson now?" Mateo quivered with excitement.

Hell, this was supposed to be a job-hunting day.

Eh, fuck it. Patrin shrugged. "Let us get coffee, and we'll head outside."

The beaming faces made his heart lift.

"Good morning. What can I get you?" The woman behind the counter had the tall, slender build of a dancer. Her chin-length brown hair framed a pretty face and a warm smile.

"Two coffees, please." Patrin gave her his most charming smile in return. "Nothing fancy, just coffee. The biggest size. We're desperate."

She laughed. "Plain coffee it is. And are you two new to town?"

As she turned to the pots, he caught a whiff of her scent. Ah, a Daonain. Perfect. "We are. For the moment, we're at the B she couldn't have caught their scents.

When she glanced at the table of cubs, he realized he could hear them. The shape of the room and ceiling must amplify the sound from the center of the room. She'd obviously caught at least some of what was said at the table.

A chill ran up his spine. He and Fell had been as careless as the younglings. Although, admittedly, it would take shifter ears to distinguish words.

"I'd be very grateful if you could help Mateo and Alvaro." She sighed. "Their mother died last June fighting the Scythe mercenaries, and they've had a rough time of it. They just came to live with me yesterday."

"I'm sorry for their loss." Patrin glanced back at the cubs. He and Fell had been at that nightmarish fight. There had been far too many deaths. Really, any loss was too much, considering the Daonain's tiny population. But it was even worse to lose a female. A mother.

As a child, he'd never noticed the numbers of males to females. But after living in the human world where the ratio was almost even, he'd been shocked to realize Daonain males outnumbered females around five to one. The lack of females influenced many of the shifter traditions.

"So…" The barista leaned her arms on the counter. "As it happens, I could use a part-time person. The hours will vary though. Usually from seven to noon. Sometimes the afternoon shift until three. I have a couple of human part-timers—Corey, my main barista, and Renee."

The job was probably in gratitude for offering to help the cubs. However, this would be a perfect location to meet most of the people in town. He glanced at his brother, who loved coffee—and books.

They'd discussed it last night, knowing they needed very visible jobs where they'd have to interact with customers. At least, a little. For Wells and the Scythe, they'd held down jobs like this, and Fell did fine. Never talked all that much, but he was an excellent listener—and most people loved to hear themselves talk.

Fell nodded at the barista. "I've worked a coffee bar before."

"Excellent. I'm Talitha, by the way."

Patrin tapped his chest. "Patrin—and my brother Fell."

"Welcome to Ailill Ridge. Let me get the paperwork for you to fill out, Fell."

Since their IDs had been destroyed when Wells burned their stockade, the human spymaster had provided the shifter-soldiers with new documents.

As Talitha disappeared into a back room, Patrin glanced at Fell. "One job down. After working with the cubs, we can see if the bar is hiring."

"Won't be open until tonight. Pack run?"

"Fuck." The alpha would expect them to show up. "Then we'll visit the grocery store today and the bar tomorrow." The more places they could be hired—and thus on display for the Scythe operative. All the better.

"The pack run should be…interesting." Fell's jaw was hard.

"Interesting is one word for it." In more ways than one. Last night, the Cosantir had warned them that the alpha was littermate to the feral Cosantir they'd fought during the housewarming party last fall. They'd left right afterward. With luck, Roger might not remember them.

Anyone who believed in luck was lost to pixie dreams.

Patrin set his hand on Fell's shoulder. "We'll do our best to keep the cubs safe."

Fell nodded.

Patrin might've officially led the shifter-soldiers, but his brother had been just as involved, trying his damnedest to protect them, even though they were all captives together. Some of Fell's scars were from stepping between the sadistic Scythe guards and the younger shifters.

Patrin sighed. Fighting during a pack run was liable to get them tossed out of the territory.

Why the fuck wasn't the alpha dealing with this kind of scat? Wasn't that his job? It was fucking pitiful not to even know what an alpha was supposed to do.

Just one more glimpse of how poorly he and Fell fit in with their own people.

Over at Talitha's house, Moya helped Eileen assemble the cublings' beds Gwendolyn had dropped off late last night. Talitha had left earlier to open the coffee shop.

"I'm gone. I need to grab some groceries." Moya gave Eileen a quick hug and headed toward the town square.

Shortly afterward, grocery sacks in hand, she was in the alley behind Espresso Books. There was a gleam of black eyes behind the dumpster. "Good morning, Gnome."

The eyes blinked.

Smiling, Moya ran up the steps to her second-floor landing. Her door was on the left, with her apartment directly over the book section of the store.

Talitha's door was on the right with her rooms over the coffee shop. Her apartment had been empty ever since she moved out to live with Eileen.

As Moya stored her groceries away, she caught herself sighing over the quiet. During the day, it wasn't bad, but it sure was lonely at night with no one in the other flat. There were no friendly sounds of movement, no music, no voices. No running next door for gossip and to share a drink.

Wolves weren't meant to live alone.

Of course, it hadn't been that bad with Talitha next door. Now it's just me. Moya shook her head at the pitiful internal whining.

Really, it was wonderful her best friend had found a partner to love and was so very happy. Unfortunately, since she and Eileen had Mateo and Alvaro to foster, Talitha wouldn't ever move back here.

I'd better get used to the silence.

For now, she could run downstairs and get a coffee from Talitha. Give her friend a report on the beds. Using the inside stairs, she exited into the store. Off to one side, lightweight accordion security grills divided the coffee shop area from the closed bookstore. She had to admit, it was nice not having to work on Sundays. Poor Talitha.

Breathing in the lovely fragrance of roasted coffee beans, she wended her way through the center tables to the coffee shop counter.

Only…instead of Talitha, a strange male stood behind the counter. His attention was on the display of the electronic cash register. Moya froze for only a second. "What are you doing back there? Who are you?" She clenched the phone in her pocket with one hand. The other hand curled into a fist.

He was way tall, over six feet, with short blond hair and a hard face. Looking up, he snorted. "Gonna punch me, too, tiny female?"

Too? Fairy-farts, it was the shifter-soldier. The littermate of the male she'd punched at the Gathering. He was turning up everywhere .

Mother help her, he was big, even taller and more muscular than his friend. And he sure looked a lot meaner. His assessing gaze swept over her before he turned his attention back to the register display.

Ignoring her.

Good, this is good . Her breath huffed out, and then she frowned. No, it isn't good. "Where. Is. Talitha ?" She emphasized each word in case he was hard of hearing.

Or a total gnome-brain.

Eyes narrowing, he turned to her again. Guess he didn't like the tone of her voice?

"At. The. Secondhand. Store." His rough voice rasped out each word.

Yeah, he'd disliked her tone. Gods, he was scary. Some blond, blue-eyed males looked like a sunny summer day. Not this one. His face was as harsh as the glacier-scoured ridges of the high Cascade mountains, and his blue eyes were colder than a winter snow.

It didn't matter. "She doesn't shop there." A tremor of worry inched up her spine. Had he killed Talitha?

The door to the store opened, and the big, dark-haired male she'd punched sauntered in, followed by Mateo and Alvaro.

"Yo, Moya!" Mateo ran over with his brother. "Patrin is teaching us to fight!"

"Uhhh, um, really?" She tried to inject enthusiasm in her voice even as she gave the dark-haired male a frown. "Does Talitha know?"

"Yeah. She went with us to the park before going to buy us better shirts." Alvaro stuck his finger through a hole in his T-shirt.

"Oh." Thus the secondhand store. Feeling like a suspicious fool, she turned to the male behind the counter. "Sorry. I thought…" No, she wouldn't tell him what she'd thought.

His lips quirked. Very firm lips.

Patrin eyed her, then his friend at the cash register, and chuckled. "You figured Fell murdered the owner to get into the cash drawer?"

Fell? It was the perfect name for someone who seemed harder than granite. "Of course I didn't think that."

"Yeah, she did." Fell's wintery blue eyes held amusement.

Yeah, I did. Moya sighed. "Sorry."

"Watch out, brawd. She's got a good left arm." Patrin gripped her wrist and, once again, pried open her clenched fingers. "Such a ferocious female."

She stared up at him, into eyes that were so dark they were like midnight, and the zing running up her spine held equal parts interest and terror.

Smiling, he gave her fingers a squeeze, released her, and turned. "Cubs, let's go find your foster mom. She might need help carrying shit."

This low in the mountain valley, the moist air carried the scent of damp moss and crushed evergreen needles. At the tempting scent of a startled field mouse, Moya's nose quivered.

No, wolf. No snackies right now. Talk about setting a bad example for the cubs.

Only a tiny whine of frustration escaped as she loped upward along the forest trail toward the pack's meeting place. She glanced back at the three wolves following her.

Still new-shifter noisy, Mateo and Alvaro clumsily brushed against the bushes as they trotted behind her. Alvaro's fur was a mottled dark brown and gray, Mateo's bluish gray with a lighter gray mask. Both still had a lot of growing to do, and their coats were still lightening from their darker cub coat.

Bringing up the rear, pale gray Talitha was her usual silent self.

Two days past full, the moon's roundness had decreased only slightly, and her silvery light spilled through the tree canopy and glowed off the snow-covered dome of Mt. Rainier.

A few minutes later, as she approached the meeting place, the breeze brought her a multitude of wolf scents. Males and females. Cubs barely past their first shift all the way to wolves with the acrid smell of age and illness.

She also caught the musky stench of Roger, the alpha, and his two betas—three aggressive, boggart-brained males. Her upper lip rose to show her fangs.

No, behave. She was here to help Talitha with the cublings. Maybe, this time, the betas wouldn't get up in her muzzle. Right now, she just needed to focus on her goal of getting through the pack run with the cubs being safe and no altercations.

Keep it smooth, wolf-girl.

In the clearing, most of the shifters had already trawsfurred to human form to enjoy a few minutes of socializing before the run started.

Several single females clustered around the alpha, and Moya rolled her eyes. Which one was the so-called alpha female these days? Maybe Deidre or Cosette? Roger had dumped Gretchen after she played him against his brother, Pete, one too many times.

Apparently, there'd been no female who was dominant or strong enough to retain the leadership since Roger became alpha. Considering the way he flitted from one female to another, he probably liked it that way.

Moya's ears flattened with her annoyance. An alpha female should be the nurturing heart of the pack and as protective in her own way as the male alpha. Or that was what Moya remembered from when she was a youngling…before her pack back in Stanislaus Territory turned ugly.

She shook her head hard enough to make her ears flap. The memories dispelled. Stay in the present. Wasn't that what the books said to do?

A few feet away, Mateo and Alvaro shifted to their skinny teenaged human forms.

Moya glanced at Talitha, caught her nod, and they also trawsfurred. Brrr. The air coming off the snowy mountain peaks was bloody cold against bare skin. Winter was definitely on the way.

"Hey, Moya, Talitha." Petite with a sturdy build, Alana from the construction crew wandered over. "It's so nice to see you two here again. Is Heather coming too?"

Moya half-laughed because Heather hated Roger. Instead, she said diplomatically, "She sprained her wrist badly enough to have it in a brace."

"Oh, that's rough." Alana shook her head. "Well, I'm glad you're here. Come and run with my group when we start."

The welcome made Moya smile.

"Hey, Moya. Welcome back!"

She lifted her hand in answer to Katherine's call, waved at a few more friends, and grinned at her brothers, Zorion and Ramón, who were with the males in their construction crew.

When she noticed Zorion's gaze going past her, she turned.

Stepping out from the tree line was the dangerous-looking male Talitha had hired, the one named Fell. Dark-haired Patrin walked with him.

The big males stopped nearby, and okay, even though nudity among shifters was scarcely noticed, some bodies were worthy of a second look. These two, despite being way too dominant, were impressive. Patrin was all lean, ripped muscles, and Fell had such powerful musculature, he could probably lift a car without straining.

Then there was the tension in their muscles and the way they stood—balanced and ready for action. Obviously lethal even without moving.

Yanking her gaze away, she noticed a batch of teen wolves had clustered around Caleb. Moya's heart sank. He was going to supervise the pups?

The beta was just as violent and mean as his littermate, Brett. During a Gathering, when a female had preferred someone else, Caleb had attacked the young, skinny male. He'd knocked Jens down and deliberately stomped on his leg. Moya shuddered, remembering the sound of the breaking bone and Jens' scream.

"Younglings, meet over here." Caleb's raised voice was harsh.

"Off you go, my sweet cubs," Talitha said lightly, although Moya could hear what an effort it took.

They both knew that if a cub got in the alpha's or beta's way, they wouldn't think twice about backhanding him. And since younglings followed the examples they were given, the pack had more than a few bullies.

Openly reluctant, Mateo and Alvaro trotted over to the youngling group with frequent glances back at Talitha and Moya.

Moya bit her lip. Considering the way Roger felt about her and Talitha, the alpha wouldn't let them join the youngling group. Okay, fine. She'd just follow along with them anyway. Because there was no way she could keep the two safe if she wasn't with them.

Talitha gripped her arm. "Look…"

Patrin sauntered across the clearing, following the younglings. The moonlight shimmered off his long dark hair.

Moya stared. "What is he doing?"

Talitha leaned closer. "In the shop, he and Patrin heard the cubs talking about the last pack run when Alvaro got shoved off the trail. That's why Patrin was showing them defensive moves. Is he going to try to go with them?"

"Caleb won't let him." Or she might be wrong. Moya couldn't hear what they were saying, but the body language was easy to read.

Patrin showed the beta his wrist and grimaced as if it was painful. He motioned toward the adults, then the cubs.

Wait… Had he heard her talking about Heather's wrist and decided the sprain made a good excuse to join the cubs. The youngling group was sent on easier trails.

Nice. Caleb could hardly say no.

Hmm. Moya studied Patrin. A shifter-soldier, she'd heard. He was obviously strong and deadly, but she hadn't expected him to be sneaky . Or that he'd go out of his way to protect two orphan cubs.

Scowling, Caleb motioned for Patrin to join the cubs' group.

Mateo and Alvaro bounced up and down with happiness.

"Thank the Lord and Lady," Talitha whispered. "I was so worried about them."

Moya bumped her shoulder. "Me too. Especially with Caleb leading them. Of course, Brett would be as bad. With Patrin there, the cubs should be all right. Now, all we have to worry about is us."

"Mostly you." Talitha bumped her back. "Roger and his betas will just be rude to me. You're the one who gets harassed. I swear, Brett gets meaner every time you refuse him at full moon."

After hearing his new boss and her adorable dark-haired friend, Fell frowned. Harassed? A female?

That had happened far too fucking often to his sister and the other Dogwood captives, but the aggressors had been human, not Daonain. With so few female shifters, males were supposed to guard…even cosset…them.

Why the fuck were the leaders of the pack breaking those centuries-long traditions?

There were more than a few overly stuffy Daonain customs he wouldn't mind chewing to pieces; however, the protection of females was admirable. It spoke to every instinct in his body.

Across the clearing, Roger trawsfurred to wolf, barked once, and sprang up the trail. The rest of the pack, minus the cub group, shifted and followed.

Nearby, Talitha and Moya also trawsfurred.

Talitha was a tall, pale gray wolf. Slender and graceful.

Moya, shorter and sturdier, was a dark gray brown with creamy cheek ruffs, neck, and chest. With amber, almond-shaped eyes, she made as pretty a wolf as she did when on two legs.

And her scent… Mmm, pure female . He trawsfurred, just to enjoy her fragrance even more thoroughly, and his paws took him right over to her before he regained control.

No. He and Patrin were here for a reason, and it didn't include licking the muzzle of a feisty little wolf. Or licking elsewhere.

Foolish fleabag. This was not only not the time, there never would be a time for females, no matter how adorable.

Trying not to breathe in more of her scent, he turned his head away.

With a soft yip to her friend, she trotted after the rest of the pack.

Rather than catching up with the males his age, Fell followed. No harm in trailing after the fascinating wolf and his new boss to ensure they stayed safe.

Behind him came the seniors and ones with physical problems. Moya and Talitha had chosen a position in front of the seniors and disabled wolves, far back from the front with the strong runners. Interesting. It only took him a few minutes to see they were perfectly capable of keeping up with the leaders.

Perhaps neither of them wanted to be near the alpha or betas?

What kind of a fucked-up pack was this? Wasn't the alpha supposed to be the ultimate in wolfdom? The strongest and with the best character?

He growled under his breath, then shook his head. Trying to reason things out in animal form was foolish. This was the time to sink deep into the now, to feel the softness of the thick evergreen needles under his paws, to enjoy the brisk wind ruffling his fur, to delight in the way his muscles worked. The scent of the pack surrounded him like a warm fire on a snowy night, and even better, he kept catching fragrant whiffs of the beguiling wolf in front of him.

He and Patrin had been on a few pack runs when on missions in other territories. The forest and the mountains here were magnificent. Especially the massive mountain rising from the southern horizon with the glaciers glowing a silvery white beneath the light of the Mother's moon overhead.

He could run these trails for the rest of his life and never grow tired of them.

Loping along behind Mateo and Alvaro, Patrin was looking to the south, marveling at the mountain called Rainier. Simply fucking amazing.

The sounds of the youngsters around him brought his attention back to his self-appointed task. The bumbling pups were humorous. Many of them were still learning how to run down steep slopes, jump downed trees, and maneuver through thick underbrush.

Their bouncy gaits reminded him of his teen years and how wondrous it'd felt to become a wolf. And how bitter it'd been when the Scythe had forced him to kill in wolf form. He'd been all of fourteen.

This here was how it should have been. Just young cubs having fun.

Mostly.

Caleb, the incompetent adult, leading the cubling pack never looked back. He wasn't helping or teaching the cubs. Or going slow enough for the weaker members.

So far, there'd been only a few problems with the bullies. He'd spotted them quickly enough—two sets of older cubs, all males.

The first set had tried to jump Mateo, two on one. Mateo had ducked and dodged sideways, using one of the moves Patrin had taught him. And Alvaro slid in to bite one of them hard enough to get a yip.

Turning to attack, the bullies had noticed Patrin…and sped up to run close to Caleb.

The other two, the ones named Vigulf and Torkil, had tried once to pin Alvaro between them without success due to Mateo's sticking close to his side. They gave up and joined the ones in the front.

Now, they were slowing again, running right in front of Mateo and Alvaro.

Patrin eyed them suspiciously. Ah-huh. The ground was getting steeper, and the trail was now running beside a cliff. Even worse, the younger cubs were tiring, stumbling more often.

Seeing how the trail went around a blind corner, Patrin huffed loudly enough that Mateo and Alvaro slowed to look back. Good cubs. He darted between the two and took the lead.

Trotting around the corner, he kept his weight centered and his guard up. Damned if Vigulf and Torkil—in human form, no less—jumped out from a blind curve and tried to shove him off the trail.

Unsuccessfully.

He wasn't a thirteen-year-old wolf—and outweighed the two older cubs put together. When their push got nowhere, they yelped, realizing they'd gotten Patrin rather than Alvaro who'd been running a nose in front of Mateo. Not clever, attacking without verifying the target.

Glancing over the side, Patrin saw how badly Alvaro could've been hurt, and yeah, this wasn't going to happen again.

He nipped their arms, calves, then their bare asses, driving them forward until they shifted and fled like a hellhound was on their tail.

Laughing inside, Patrin turned to check on Mateo and Alvaro, and the two were right there, bouncing against him in happiness, giving his muzzle little licks, tails wagging like they were dogs rather than wolf pups.

Felt good though. Yeah, it did.

Oh, it'd been a glorious run. They'd brought down a deer, and Moya felt quite proud of herself. As Roger and another of the big males attacked from the front, a few others tried to hamstring the deer's hind legs—and failed.

She'd been fast on her paws, dodged a kick, and successfully found her target. Even as she had taken out that leg, the shifter-soldier, Fell, crippled the other leg.

Once the prey was down and dead, Roger had clawed into the soft belly to eat first. Then, the rest of them moved forward, compelled by the hot scent of blood.

A gray-brown female stepped in front of Moya, and it took her a second to recognize the appearance and scent. Cosette. She'd been running behind Roger and Brett, so probably was the newest alpha female. For what that was worth.

Now, because Moya wasn't popular with the alpha and betas, this lazy female thought she'd block Moya from a deer she'd helped to bring down? As if Moya would roll over at a growl and offer her neck. In your dreams, fleabag.

The fur along Moya's spine lifted. Lowering her head to guard her neck, she growled long and low. Out of my way or my fangs will be in your flesh instead of the deer .

The female backed up so hastily she bumped into two other pack members before slinking away.

Around Moya came huffs of amusement and muzzles opened in wolfy grins. Alana bumped against her shoulder. On the other side of the deer, Talitha bobbed her head in approval.

Okay then. Moya lowered her head to eat, the bloody meat hot and satisfying to her stomach. The companionship filling her heart.

Oh, she'd missed being part of the pack.

A while later, breathing fast and even, Moya and her pack mates loped out into an open area, scoured clean of trees. Moonlight poured over the rocky outcropping.

Roger, with Caleb, Brett, and Cosette, stood on a boulder, waiting for the last of them to arrive.

Off to one side, the cublings entered the clearing from another trail, dispersing to join their family members. The smallest, Mateo and Alvaro, trotted over to touch muzzles with Talitha, then her.

So bouncy and cute. Shifting to human, the pups were whispering in Talitha's furry ears, and Moya had to wonder what had them so excited. It must have been an interesting cub run.

Feeling a presence on her left, she turned her head. Fell stood nearby. He was a damned big wolf, his fur even lighter than Talitha's, a silvery gray with white facial and chest markings. Like a ghost wolf.

Catching her looking, he stepped close enough to bump her shoulder with his before moving back just as quickly. It was a friendly sort of greeting, one she hadn't expected from him…although they had taken down the deer together, in a way.

Patrin stood on Fell's other side, black ears cocked forward. He was almost as big as Fell, his thick fur so dark he almost disappeared into the shadows. Unlike her, he had almost no patterning or facial markings.

Just looking at him made her sidle farther away, trying to get out of range of the dominance he radiated. His littermate wasn't nearly as…as…disconcerting.

As the last of the wolves made it to the clearing, she could feel the warmth of the pack ties inside her. They weren't too strong, not for her. She deliberately avoided the pack activities that strengthened the bonds.

Turning to face the moon, Roger lifted his head and let out a long howl. The betas—and Cosette—joined him.

Around Moya, muzzles tipped up to the moon. Patrin's song was long, and low, and somehow commanding, while Fell's tone was harsher yet harmonized with his brother's. The two lured her in, so she added her own higher howl, shivering in delight at how their voices blended.

The mountain air carried the song of the pack, filled with their gratitude, to the Mother and reaffirming their territory. Their voices would be heard for miles. We are here, and we are strong.

Eventually, Roger turned back to them. As silence fell, he shifted to human. "Pack, we have two strangers with us. Patrin and Fell." He pointed, and the wolves turned to look at them.

Patrin bowed his head slightly in a polite acknowledgement. Fell didn't move.

When many of the wolves shifted to human and called out welcomes, the brothers' ears perked up in obvious surprise.

Brett whispered something to Roger, and the alpha cleared his throat. "We also have our straying females back with us. Moya and Talitha."

"I wonder what brought them back." Standing off to one side, Gretchen sniffed haughtily.

Fairy farts and gnome guts. Moya turned her gaze away from Miss Blonde Perfection and eyed Roger warily. She'd been having such a nice time. Was he going to resume harassing her about moving into the pack house?

Gaze on her, Roger jumped off the ledge and winced as he landed.

Most of the wolves were human now, so Moya followed suit.

Even in human form, the alpha was still bulky with muscles, but his skin was loose, showing he'd lost weight and tone. He had bags under his eyes. Really, he hadn't looked healthy since his littermate Pete went feral and was killed in October.

"Hey, Roger, did you ever get in touch with your sister?" Quintrell, the home-school instructor, asked.

"Yeah. She's still in Wyoming. Doing all right." Roger shrugged. "Her cubs are around five."

Moving next to Moya, Alana whispered, "He sounds kinda off."

"He lost Pete. Losing a littermate must really hurt—and she's the only one left."

Alana tilted her head toward the two shifter-soldiers. "You realize they helped fight at the party when Pete went feral and attacked everyone."

Moya's mouth dropped open. "No. I'd gone out to the car to fetch something and missed all that." Thank the Mother. "Poor Roger."

Alana's blonde eyebrows drew together in a frown. "He has the pack bonds though. Wouldn't those help with feeling alone?"

"I guess they must help, or he'd have left to be with his sister."

After exchanging words with a few more pack members, Roger continued to head for Moya…and, oh cat-spit, Brett and Caleb followed.

"You're buzzard bait, you scrawny fleabag!" Torkil, a big cub, yelled and chased Alvaro across the clearing.

Dodging, Alvaro ran in front of the alpha. Tripping, Roger staggered before catching his balance.

Torkil fled, leaving Alvaro standing before the alpha. Alvaro cringed. "Alpha, I'm sor?—"

Snarling, Roger backhanded him to the ground and swung his leg back to kick the cub.

"Hey, stop!" Growling, Moya sprang between them to take the blow on her own leg. The sharp pain made her flinch, teeth gritted.

"For fuck's sake." Fell shoved Roger away from her so hard the alpha landed on his ass.

Patrin pulled Alvaro to his feet and nudged him and Moya toward Talitha. "I thought the Daonain were supposed to protect cubs, not hurt them."

"What do you know, you human-raised coyote-dogs." Face purple with rage, Roger scrambled to his feet and charged the shifter-soldiers.

Fell stepped to one side while Patrin stuck his leg out.

Roger tripped over Patrin's leg and went flying. His head hit a fallen tree trunk with a nasty thud.

Talitha had her arms around the cubs. Moya had positioned herself in front of them, and her heart sank as she watched. Gods, this wasn't good, even though the shifter-soldiers were trying hard not to start an actual fight.

"Time to go," Patrin muttered to Fell. He picked up two packs at the tree line and handed one to his brother.

Pulling on the pack designed to be carried by a wolf, Fell made a guttural sound of agreement before jerking his chin at the cubs—and Moya.

Patrin frowned at Talitha and Moya. "Want to head down with us?"

Be around this male who feels too much like an alpha?

She took a step back before she caught herself. No, Moya. This is what we're supposed to be working on. He's been polite. Protected the cubs. Don't be a gnome-brain.

Moya eyed Roger who was trying to stand, his legs obviously wobbly. "Yes, thank you. I think we'd better." The alpha wouldn't be thinking straight. If at all.

After they all shifted to wolf, Patrin led the way. To get farther from him—because battling fears took time—Moya moved back behind Talitha and the cubs.

Talitha perked her ears inquisitively, then fell in behind Patrin.

Fell brought up the rear.

Ears swiveling, Moya listened to the almost soundless way the two males moved through the night, watched how they disappeared in and out of shadows. Especially Patrin, who was almost a shadow himself.

The two were scary deadly. She'd never forget how effortlessly they'd taken Roger out of the fight.

They were halfway down the low mountain when a shout was carried upon the air, coming from where they'd left. "I challenge. "

The end of the night had sucked, Fell thought, as they traveled down the mountain. The alpha might be pissed off enough to ban them from the pack's territory, and fuck knew what'd happened after they left. Wells would be furious if their actions messed up the mission.

Eh, they'd worry about it tomorrow.

Just to be safe, Fell and his littermate escorted the females and cubs to the forest's edge near Talitha's house. A nicely overgrown patch of undergrowth led to a backyard shed with a swinging dog door.

By the time he and Patrin shifted to human and pulled clothes from their packs, the others were already changed.

"Night, everyone." Lifting her hand, Moya disappeared out the side door of the shed.

Before Fell could follow, Talitha turned to him and Patrin. "Come on in for a minute, you two." Talitha led the way across the lawn to the back door of her house and lowered her voice as she entered. "Eileen's probably asleep. Alvaro, Mateo, off to bed with you."

The two cubs hugged her, and after a second, gave Patrin and then Fell swift hugs too.

Speechless, Fell watched the pups dart out of the living room and down the hallway. A hug. So unexpected.

Eyes burning, he turned and checked out the room. Nice place. Comfortable furniture. Forest colors. Slightly cluttered. It reminded him of their house in the human-shifter town when he was just a cub.

"Now that you're home, we'll be off," Patrin said.

"No, wait. Mateo and Alvaro told me how you kept them from being hurt. More than once." Talitha lifted a ring full of keys from a door hook, removed two, and handed them to Patrin. "You mentioned you're looking for a place to rent. Before moving in here, I lived above the coffee shop. These are to that apartment. I should have all my stuff out before next Sunday."

Patrin studied the keys in his hand. "An apartment?"

Talitha was probably ten or fifteen years older than them, and her raised eyebrows indicated any argument they offered would be futile. "First month is free. Then, if you want to stay longer, we'll talk about rent."

Patrin shook his head. "We can't just?—"

"Give the cubs more self-defense lessons, and we'll call it even." She made shooing motions. "Off with you. I need sleep, and so does Fell since he's working the coffee bar tomorrow."

Patrin glanced over and saw Fell had totally lost his words. The whole evening had been unsettling, and now this. A place to stay. All he could do was nod.

With a smile, Patrin tilted his head. "Thank you, Talitha. We accept."