Chapter 2

Chapter

Two

A fter taking a quick shower together, they dressed and headed down to join their pack and guests. As she had suspected they might, the women who had once formed Bae Diogel waited at the foot of the staircase. With them were the she-wolves that had stood with them against a group of men who had tried to enslave the females of their kind.

"Who'd have thunk it, Blondie? You actually managed not to kill him even after a decade!" called Roz Halsey, the celebrated Mistress of the Hamptons.

To most, Roz and her mate appeared to be complete opposites, but few had a closer or more intimate relationship. Oliver kept Roz grounded, and she had given him the wings on which to soar among the heavens. That wolf doted on his mate much the same way Jean-Michel did on Darby.

"He's had a few close calls," Darby teased, running ahead of him to embrace the women she thought of as her sisters and origin pack.

They weren't the pack she was born into, but they remained a close-knit group of she-wolves who'd stood together, defied the odds, and forged their own way together. And when Bae Diogel had been torn apart, other she-wolves had joined them. They had formed an alliance, not unlike their male counterparts, and were instrumental in confronting some of the darkness that still lay at the heart of wolfen society.

"Probably a few more than he even knows," called Riley Nichols. Riley, the she-wolf who had hunted DeMoncada and those who supported him. The one who'd turned the predators into prey.

"Not true, mistress," countered Jean-Michel. "My Darby may not always tell me every naughty little thing she and the rest of you get up to, but she always shares with me exactly how she is feeling—even when it is murderous rage."

The entire group laughed at his remarks.

"You really ought to make her use pottery," said Marco DeMedici. "It's less lethal than the sharp pointy objects Darby tends to favor."

"Perhaps," agreed Jean-Michel, "but far more expensive than the Etruscan pottery favored by your Catherine."

Marco's mate, Catherine, was known for her penchant for destroying the valuable, ancient pottery during fits of rage, sometimes smashing it over the Italian alpha's head.

"Come, mes amis, let's see what wonders Claudine has prepared for our breakfast. And you," he said, grabbing Darby and hoisting her over his shoulder, "you will behave yourself and act like the proper, refined mistress I know you can be."

"If you believe that, Gautier," said Dylan Grainger, Alpha of Calon Gwyllt, "you are an even bigger fool than I thought."

The assembled partygoers roared with laughter and followed their host into the large eating space.

W atching his father carry their mother slung over his shoulder like the pirate she often accused him of being, Jean-Edouard looked around the table at the other children of the alphas who were seated with his parents.

Travis Nichols was the son of Riley and Cameron of Galveston. He had his father's looks, but his mother's fiery temper.

His sister was Piper, a thoroughly disagreeable girl with curly red hair like her mother's and an equally disagreeable disposition. She was bossy, loud, and a tomboy through and through. She was even worse than his own sister Skylar, and that was saying something.

Mariah Halsey. She was entirely too much like her mother. Why couldn't she be more like her father, Oliver—a wolf Jean-Edouard greatly admired? The international businessman was respected and feared by human and wolf alike.

Josiah Steele, a relative newcomer to these events. He was quiet, but only because he was always watching, always thinking.

Abriana DeMedici, a combination of the worst of her parents' personalities.

Micah Grainger, the son of his sister's namesake. He was the most like Jean-Edouard and the one whose company he enjoyed the most.

Brianna Owen, a curious girl, forever scribbling things in her notebook. She was so beautiful. He often found himself light-headed in her presence. When he had spoken with his father about it, Jean-Michel had suggested that she might be his fated mate. Jean-Edouard had rejected the idea. The belief that there was someone he was destined to be with was fanciful and not something he wasted his time on. Her father was known as the Welsh Wolf, even though he was alpha of a thriving pack off the coast of North Carolina.

The last of the group was Branson Norris. It was a curious name. Its meaning was son of the raven, but neither he nor his parents had dark hair. Perhaps it had to do with being the heir to the Ravenscar Pack.

"I think we should all go for a ride," said Abriana. "My father says your pack has wonderful driving horses. Do you have any of those endurance carts? I've always thought that looked like fun. Not as much fun as cross-country riding, but fun nonetheless."

Piper rolled her eyes. "Why would you want to go galloping across the country in that postage stamp of a saddle?"

Travis laughed and said, "Not everyone thinks chasing cattle is an enjoyable pastime, Piper."

"They're wrong," his sister rejoined.

"Piper, could you tell me about being a cowgirl?" asked Brianna.

"Sure but showing you would be so much more fun."

Brianna giggled. "I don't want to be a cowgirl, I want to write about them."

Piper rolled her eyes. "You are never going to have any fun just sitting on the sidelines, writing about what other people do."

"At least Brianna isn't out causing trouble. The Welsh Wolf and his lady run the affairs of their pack in a properly conservative manner," said Jean-Edouard.

Brianna shot him a shy smile. "Oh, you'd be surprised what my parents get up to when no one is looking, especially when they're with Uncle Declan and Auntie Ava. Every time my mother and Auntie Ava disappear, Papa and Uncle Declan shift and hunt them down. It's quite entertaining… and eye-opening, if they don't know you're watching."

"You're a Peeping Tom!" exclaimed Piper, laughing. "I didn't know you had it in you, Brianna."

"I am not," said Brianna, slightly offended. "I'm a writer. I observe and record so I can use it later to make my books richer in details."

Abriana stuffed a forkful of omelet into her mouth. "Parents think that we don't know what they get up do, but we do."

Jean-Edouard nodded. "My parents are notorious."

"Mama and Papa love each other," Skylar said, defending the two people she loved most in the world. "You're just a stick in the mud."

"I am not," said Jean-Edouard, rounding on his sister. "I'll be alpha someday and then you'll have to do what I say."

"You can't make me now and you won't be able to make me then." Skylar pushed her chair away from the table and stood.

"Take it easy, Sky," said Travis. "Jean-Edouard will never lay a hand on you. I won't let him."

"She's my little sister, you ignorant cowboy."

"I can take care of myself," said Skylar.

"Sit down, Skylar. Everyone is looking over here. Mama and Papa want this to be a fun weekend for their anniversary."

Brianna was madly scribbling away in her notebook. "Did your father really have to run her to ground?"

"Yes. My mother, for all I love her, was the most misbehaved of all her friends..."

"Not true," drawled Travis. "Your father only had to chase her down once and it was at Calon Gwyllt. My father had to chase our mother down multiple times all over the world. But then she took on DeMoncada and his creepy pack long before any of the rest of your families joined in."

"I'm finished," announced Abriana, standing. "Sky, let's shift and take a run." She turned to the boys who were still seated. "No boys allowed."

The five young girls left their male counterparts sitting at the table and followed Skylar up to her room so they could shift and see what trouble four of them could cause while Brianna wrote it all down.

"Girls," snorted Jean-Edouard in disgust.

"What would we do without them?" asked Travis with a sly grin.

L aughing, Skylar and her friends ran up to her room, quickly removing their clothes. The air shimmered around four of them and they shifted into their lupine selves. Brianna sat on Skylar's bed making notes at a furious pace, while the others looked on. Skylar shifted back.

"Brianna? Aren't you going to come with us?" she asked.

"Yes, but not as a wolf. Afterall, I can't very well make notes if I can't hold a pen and one of my notebooks."

Skylar gently took her pen and paper. "How about you shift and come with us and make your notes afterwards."

Brianna nibbled her lower lip. "I don't know…"

"Fortunately for you, I do. Besides, don't you want Jean-Edouard to see how beautiful you are as a wolf?"

"Do you think he'll see me as beautiful?"

"He already does. He's just being a butthead because that's what boys do—act like buttheads. Come on, let's shift and then go have some fun."

Once they had all shifted, Skylar charged down the stairs, leading her small pack of all females barking loudly and happily. They galloped out through the dining hall, knocking over chairs, plates and the occasional person as they went. Skylar jumped up onto the table where the boys still sat, gnashed her teeth at her brother, and smacked Travis in the face with her tail before leaping off the other side and racing outdoors.

With gleeful abandon, they ran down the length of the lawn, jumping over any obstacle that got in their way, and along the riverbank. Skylar had always found it curious that the humidity of southern Louisiana did not seem to bother her as much in her wolfen form as it did when she was human.

They ran back towards the house, snapping at their male counterparts whenever they encountered them. At one point, Travis gave chase, but Skylar knew the grounds far more intimately than he did and she lost him in the maze. That would teach him to follow her! Skylar laughed when she heard him howl in frustration when he realized he didn't know the way out. He'd either have to wait to be rescued or shift and back track his own trail.

By the time she got back to her bedroom, all of the other girls, except Brianna, had shifted, changed into their clothes and gone back to their rooms. Bre looked up from where she sat cross-legged in the middle of Skylar's bed, scribbling her notes.

"Some day that isn't going to work," she said to Sky.

"What?"

"Leading him astray… well, at least not physically. I rather suspect you'll end up leading him awry most of your lives."

"Why do you say that?" asked Skylar.

Bre rolled her eyes. "Honestly for two people whose parents are the epitome of fated mates, you and Jean-Edouard seem determined to deny your own."

"You think Jean-Edouard and I have fated mates?"

"I do, and more importantly, so do you. But you just keep on denying it. Travis and I are patient."

Without another word, Brianna scrambled off Skylar's bed and left the young she-wolf standing with her mouth agape.

A t the alpha's table the parents talked while keeping an eye on the table with their oldest children.

"I think your Skylar may give my Piper a run for her money in the trouble-making she-wolf department," said Cameron Nichols to Jean-Michel.

"I worry more about my Skylar than your Piper," said Jean-Michel thoughtfully before he chuckled. "Actually, I suppose it's your Travis I should worry about."

"Why is that?"

"Unless I miss my guess, and I'm rarely wrong in these matters, your eldest son has caught the scent of his fated mate. And as strong-willed as my daughter is, I believe she will lead him on a merry chase."

Cameron grinned. "I'm not worried about that. He can just lasso, hog tie her, and then drag her back to Wolf Meadow." Riley punched him in his muscled bicep. "Ouch!"

"That might not prove as easy as the two of you arrogant alphas think. Skylar is her mother's daughter and named for the one who killed DeMoncada."

Darby laughed. "And just this morning, her father told me to teach her to fight. My wily pirate is rarely wrong about these matters, but he kids himself if he thinks his daughter will be brought to heel as easily as her mother."

Jean-Michel took Darby's hand in his. "You were never easy, my beloved. I just knew you were worth the fight, as did our friend Cameron when it came to his own mate."

Darby leaned over and kissed him, nuzzling his neck. "Nice save. But someone had better go check on what those girls are up to." She looked at Dylan Grainger. "What are you grinning about?"

His mate, the woman for whom her daughter was named, smiled. "He's thinking how glad he is that he only sired sons."

A fter breakfast, the New Orleans pack went about their everyday business. The masked ball was scheduled to begin that evening with a lavish dinner and there would be guests arriving throughout the rest of the day.

Jean-Michel had arranged for Darby to take the women who had been present for breakfast that morning, to spend the day at a spa to relax and get their nails and toes done.

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay and help?" Darby asked him as the car was being brought around.

" Non, ma choue , you and your friends deserve it after all your hard work. The staff have everything under control now. You know Vachon and Mrs. Hastings are a force to be reckoned with. I want you to go and relax and be pampered, and I know for a fact you had little sleep last night."

Darby laughed softly and nuzzled him before kissing his lips. "That would be because you're the one who gave me little rest."

"Are you complaining?" he teased.

"Never, my love. Never." She turned to the rest of the women. "Come on girls, let's go get our pretty on."

As he watched the limo pull away, Marco DeMedici and Dylan Grainger joined Jean-Michel.

"Do you think they suspect?" asked Marco.

Dylan shook his head. "No. If any of them had an inkling, she would have told the others. And if they had known, they never would have left. Are you sure they're safe? If he's alive, there's no way he won't come after them. His pride would allow for nothing less."

"I have my men in place watching over the salon and we've upgraded the building's security system over the years. They will be safe," Jean-Michel assured them.

" Bene ," said Marco. "Then we shall adjourn to your study. I believe the rest of the Coalition members are assembled."

The three alphas entered the room where everyone else was waiting for them. They were all there; in addition to Marco and Dylan, Declan, James, Cameron, Jean-Edouard and Oliver had taken up places around the room. They all looked to Damian Steele, who had not been among them when they'd faced DeMoncada, but today had brought them news—news they never expected to hear.

"And you are sure it's him?" asked Marco without preamble.

"I'm afraid I am," said Damian. "We got a hit on him with our new facial recognition software that we've been developing with Peter. We thought we had successfully crushed the Hunters, but like a hydra, you cut off one head and another two take its place. Peter ran the picture just as a test and was shocked when he got a hit."

"I don't understand how he could have survived," said Dylan. "Skylar was certain he had plunged to his death over the falls. It bothered her for months."

Damian shook his head. "I don't have any explanation for that, but we spent quite a bit of time tracking him to ensure there had been no mistakes. In the end, James was the one who laid eyes on him for the final confirmation."

Everyone in the room looked to James Norris, Alpha of Ravenscar, whose mate had been the final victim of those who had sought to turn proud she-wolves into nothing more than breeding animals.

"I wish I could tell you different," James said. "I swear if I'd had a gun, I would've put a bullet between his eyes and then pumped three more into him—one in each lung and one in his heart—to make sure this time he stayed dead. I don't want Shea to ever know."

"Nor my Catherine. She would never rest until she saw his corpse burned to ashes. My Catherine can be brutally vindictive when called for," said Marco.

"That brings us back to the question of what to do," said Oliver.

"If anyone is not in favor of hunting this bastard down and seeing him dead once and for all," said Jean-Michel in a murderous voice, "you should leave now. No questions asked and no one will think the worse of you. I know that I will not rest until I am convinced he has been destroyed."

"Is that why Peter ran his face through the software?" asked Jean-Edouard.

Jean-Michel nodded. "Without a positive ID on a body, I was never convinced he was dead. Evil like his is more difficult to destroy than merely pushing him off a cliff."

"Why didn't you say something?" asked Declan.

"There was no need to upset everyone when I had no proof. But I did have them search and drag the waterways below. And I've kept my ear to the ground," said Jean-Michel.

"I don't think there's any question that we hunt and kill the bastard," agreed James.

"No one is suggesting otherwise," said Cameron. "But we can't just declare open season on him. My Riley would go nuts. And for him to stay hidden for the past decade, he must have had help."

"But from who?" asked Dylan. "Those who once supported him on the Ruling Council were ousted when his schemes came to light."

Oliver shook his head. "Either supporters of his unknown to us have grown in power or he built a new network. Either way, he must be dealt with. And I don't think there's any question that we keep this from the women."

Declan smiled. "God help us if they ever find out."

"That shouldn't be too difficult for you," said Griffin with a smile. "I've known Ava all her life. I have never known her to be as happy as she is with you. She seems at peace."

Declan nodded. "I think building our pack and having a family of her own has given her a feeling of belonging. Your sister and Maddie have been of immense help in that regard. But at least she's keeping her computer skills off the dark web and in mostly legal areas."

"The problem is we found him, confirmed it was him, and then he just disappeared," said James. "Poof! And he was gone again. I have a network that has infiltrated his household in Spain and others who are trying to track him, but no luck so far."

Jean-Michel spoke up. "I've been working with James and have men looking as well. Peter knows this is his highest priority. Once we've found him, we will deal with him once and for all."

"Then we are agreed?" asked Dylan as the others nodded. "So say you all?"

"So say we all," was the solemn vow.