THIRTY-SEVEN

Ethan

WE'RE AT XANDER'S childhood home for what was described as a post-funeral reception for pack members. What it looks like is an estate sale with free food.

Xander's mother has had every piece of furniture, clothing, knickknack, and even the freaking cutlery professionally set up on the lawn and in the house, with price tags. She's gone so far as to hire help to process her sales.

Xander was about ten seconds away from shifting into his wolf at the service. The only thing capable of grounding him, the only thing that kept his wolf from breaking through and, hell, probably tearing apart his father's corpse and then attacking certain members of our home pack, was our mate on his lap. By the time the service had ended, his wolf had calmed, and Billie was able to walk out on her own two feet instead of being carried. I grin to myself because Jax lost our bet on that one. Regardless she's not left his side for more than a total of ten minutes since we left the house this morning.

Once we got here, Xander set up an additional chair for Billie, next to the one set up for him, on the crest of the small grassy hill near the back fence, just a few strides away from where his mother and Gran are receiving people as they come up to give their personal condolences. Glancing over at his mother, I can't help but shake my head in astonishment as she closes a sale on a couple of her dead mate's suits while also comforting a weeping pack member. This is the woman we saw in the video today—the one before she became bonded to Xander's father.

She is a luna, and she is rising.

Jax and I are on opposite sides of the long buffet table, shaded by the large maple tree to the side of the oversized driveway, making up plates for Xander and Billie. More so for our mate (who's getting dangerously close to hangry). A female voices sneers from behind me, "She'll never be accepted."

Not needing words, Jax and I meet each other's gazes, and based on who I think that voice belongs to, I tilt my chin, letting him know I'll take point. He dips his chin in acknowledgment.

I choose to ignore the comment since it's not clear who they're talking about or to whom for that matter. There's an exasperated huff. "Ethan, I'm talking to you; she'll never be accepted."

I turn to see Amber and Colette, who are standing far too close for my liking. They were expelled from WMU for the rest of the semester, with no hope of appeal until next semester due to their involvement in the harassment of Billie on school grounds. I'd honestly forgotten about them, which is unsettling. You should never forget about your enemies, for it could leave you vulnerable. Plating up some potato salad—both kinds since my mate loves potato anything—I hitch a shoulder. "You're being rather vague with who you're talking about." I pause and add, "Both parties in fact."

"Cut the crap, Ethan," Amber hisses. "You know I'm talking about your whore of a fox and our pack."

I've moved along the line, plating up some chicken kabobs for Billie, while Jax grabs steak tips for Xander. Ignoring Amber's bait, I sigh. "What is it you're hoping to gain from approaching us today?" Looking over my shoulder, I assess the two she-wolves. They're both put together, Amber dressed in a tight black midthigh dress with her hair pulled back into a neat French braid, and Colette is in a black seventies mod-style dress that matches her hairstyle. Both their faces may be decorated with makeup, but there's no way to conceal the rage in Amber's tight jaw or the derangement spiraling in her bloodshot brown eyes. Colette—who has been reserved and demure, shy even, since I've known her—seems just as enraged as Amber. Her pale pink-painted lips are pressed tightly together, and her nostrils are flaring with her puffed breath while her hands, encased in black lace gloves, twist and grip the black satin clutch held in front of her. Seeing the state of these two, who usually come in a set of three, and not wanting to be taken by surprise for a second time today, I lift my gaze to the surrounding area, looking for Cortney. She doesn't appear to be here, I don't think I saw her at the funeral, and if I were her, I wouldn't have come either. Jax comes around the end of the table and hands me a seltzer for Billie before sidling up to my side to face Amber and Colette with me.

Amber steps up and sets her hands on her hips while her hungry eyes leisurely consume Jax from feet to head. When her face rises, her pupils are dilated and her cheeks, flushed. There's no denying she's still completely attracted to him. As if confirming my thoughts, she purrs, "You always looked delicious in a suit, Jaxson, honey. Seeing those pictures today"—her voice breaks, and she exhales an uneven breath— "of us at junior prom, brought back so many memories. How good we were together and how our parents were so overjoyed at us being together."

Jax shakes his head and mutters, "Those days are over and have been for years. We're not the same people we were then."

Amber ignores his comment and whips her head around to narrow her eyes at Billie and Xander. I follow her gaze. Their dark clothes are a sharp contrast to the white fence set about ten yards behind them. Billie's high ponytail blows in the light breeze, her hair looking like silken threads of rose gold under the midday sun. One of Billie's hands is still in Xander's, while his dead eyes are staring seemingly through Brian, his wife Coco, Veronica, and Councilman Hogan, who are gathered in front of him and slightly off to the side. None of them look happy, and Veronica is glaring daggers at Billie.

Amber folds her arms below her breast, forcing more of her cleavage to spill out from under the low scoop neckline of her dress. She snickers. "Your mother doesn't look nearly as happy with your current girlfriend."

"Mate," Jax snips out with an edge like an industrial paper cutter slicing through Amber's attempted barb. His brows draw down as he stares at Billie with concern. "She's my bonded true-mate."

The raise in Brian and Veronica's voices hold all our attention, and I notice the brief glowing from Xander's eyes, the only sign he's actually aware of what they're saying. Billie brings his hand to her mouth, kissing and caressing her mark, and I'm about to head over to them when I notice Xander's mom and Bruce place themselves protectively in front of Xander and Billie, making the group address them.

"We're far from unanimous on accepting a fox's presence in our pack." Amber tuts, bringing our attention back to her. "Especially one connected to the alpha, and—" She abruptly stops, unable to say the truth that Jaxson is bonded to Billie, not her. She hides her discomfort by picking at her nails like they're claws. "We'd all be better off if she would just disappear for good. But perhaps she could live, if her mates valued her life over their own pleasure." Her eyes return to Jax, and her gaze heats.

"Are you threatening our mate, Amber?" I question in a calm voice. Before she can respond, Colette brazenly steps up to me. Not wanting her to get near the food, I extend my arm wide and away from her, which leaves half of my body open. She moves in, closing the distance. Her brown eyes, almost as dark as mine, frantically search my eyes like she's trying to read something in them. I keep my gaze hard, wishing I didn't push my sunglasses up on my head when we came over here, the table shaded by the large maple tree. Whatever she thinks she sees has her lengthening her spine and inhaling a deep breath of determination before her hand slowly reaches for my face. I'm momentarily shocked that she's actually going to try to touch my bare flesh, my face. Right as I pull away, a fierce, high-pitched growl is released from across the yard with enough force to vibrate the air around us and send ripples through my stomach. The whites of Colette's eyes grow, she inhales a gasp of surprise, and her hand freezes midair inches from where my face was.

I turn toward where the sound originated, seeing my mate with her legs crossed, snuggled into the crook of Xander's shoulder, looking completely relaxed with her sunglasses perched on the top of her head as if she were lounging at a backyard barbeque. Both of them are facing us with expressions of mild interest except for the glowing green and white of her eyes. But there's no denying the air of authority, or shall I say royalty, she's exuding. Hell, if I don't get hard, and fuck if she doesn't lick her lips and smirk.

Jax chuckles next to me. "She's getting feistier and feistier."

Still looking at her, my tongue comes out to lick my lip ring before dragging my teeth over it and half grinning. "Yeah, she is." Returning my gaze to Colette, I raise my brows. "I'd prefer you not touching me, something I've made clear since we've known each other."

"You don't mean that, Ethan," Colette softly wails. Her small face pinches with pain and she implores, "If you'd only let me touch you. If you'd only let yourself feel and give me a chance to show you what I know to be true."

Jax cants his head to the side and asks, "And, what is that exactly, Colette?"

Her eyes stay on mine, and she proclaims, "Ethan, you are mine. You've always been mine. You always will be mine, and. . ." Turning to Billie, her eyes taper, and she growls. "I'll do whatever is necessary for you to see that."

Billie

Xander's wolf is ready to rip through about a quarter of the pack that's showed up here today. Well, after tearing apart his father's corpse, because that's what my fox felt at the service, and being the supportive mate that she is, she was all for joining him. She even sent me a mental picture of her scraping his eyeballs out, holding them up to the room on her claws, then eating them like olives, cackling with glee. I'd prefer not to experience the aftertaste of eyeballs, especially ones most likely well past their expiration date. Thankfully, bringing our shifters and us together physically gave us each other to focus on instead.

With Xander's arm looped around the back of my neck, my thumb runs over my mark on his hand, I lift my gaze to him. Considering that inside his emotions are spinning and twisting like a tornado sucking up all his past pain, building more and more pressure with each rotation, searching for a clear path to release the devastation within, the stoic expression he's been able to maintain is highly impressive.

Just like when Ethan was processing his trauma, I will be here for him however he needs me to be. It's not because of a sense of duty or obligation. It's a desire, a want, a love, and in some way an honor and a knowing, to be who they turn to, who they need. Just as I need them.

This funeral reception is like a block party, but instead of trying to avoid minefields of dog poo, it's minefields of unwanted advances, passive-aggressive comments, and straight-up verbal barbs. Sighing, I look at the mud on the bottom of my spool heel and wonder if it is in fact dog poo or, feck —it could totally be wolf poo. Not wanting to think about shit, I lift my gaze to more important things, like Jax and Ethan at the buffet table filling up plates of food for Xander and me. The growling of my stomach, signaling its need to feed, is interrupted by the bloated voice of Councilman Hogan. "Well, at least she cleans up well," he snarks, ambling over to us.

Turning my head to Hogan, I note that he is accompanied by Veronica, Brian Callahan (Amber's father), and a woman who could only be Amber's mother, with her long silky brunette hair styled to perfection, flawless makeup, and voluptuous figure poured into a black minidress. Brian, in a black button-down shirt, wraps an arm around her back, his hand gripping her hip, which hikes her dress up even higher. "Listen," he grunts, looking down at me with an arched brow on his cleanly shaven face. "I'm not saying we don't appreciate what you did for Bruce's daughter or that Will may have taken things too far." His eyes lose their haughtiness and turn down at the edges when they slide to Xander, who's wearing his (what I've entitled) "Staring into the Void, Version 3" expression. Distant yet pensive. "Or that I don't regret not stepping in and stopping him in the past."

He falters, and his wife stares down her nose at me purring. "But you're not a wolf honey," she says with a higher-pitched purr. Yup, definitely Amber's mother.

A menacing growl rumbles through Xander's chest. Twisting in his hold, I reach my free arm up behind him and stroke his nape with my fingertips. His shoulders relax a fraction.

"Seeing those old photos of the boys with their she-wolves," Veronica says in a wispy voice while waving her hand in front of her face as if she's about to cry, "one would need to be blind to not see what they had was real." Her chin tilts down, and her dark-blue eyes, so similar in color to my mate's, glare death at me while she asserts in a terse voice, "That they were meant to be together."

Amber's mother, who is also tearing up, looks at Veronica with such sympathy it's like they mourning the death of their children or something. Mrs. Callahan bobs her head in agreement and pulls a tissue from her clutch to dab at her tears before they ruin her makeup. Brian swipes a hand over his shiny shaved head and declares, "A fox mated and bonded to our alpha and his two betas, without a she-wolf to oversee her." He shakes his head and blusters, "It gives an outsider, a non-wolf, far too much power and influence. We all want you, Xander. We want your betas. We just want to see all of you with a wolf or wolves as your mates." Looking at his wife, his eyes become hooded while his hand on her hip glides to her ass and seizes a handful of her flesh. She moans and spins herself into his body, placing her hand on his chest. Her hips shimmy against his thigh, and her hand trails down his torso until she's cupping and rubbing his dick through his black jeans.

Brian pitches his hips forward and throws his head back while grunting in appreciation of his wife's heavy petting. Bringing his gaze back to Xander, he licks his lips and gives him a misogynistic smile. "She-wolves know how to treat their mates. How to take care of an alpha and his betas. They know how to handle a pack because they are pack." His heated gaze cools when it drops to me. Tilting his head to the side, he sighs. "Wolf or not, I truly would hate to see anything unfortunate happen to you because"—he looks to Xander and hitches a brow— "your mates aren't taking the concerns of the pack seriously."

Well shit. I'm pretty sure he just threatened my life. I mean, it's only been a week since someone tried to kill me, so I guess I'm due for at least a threat or two. Feck! Has this type of aggression and treatment become so normal that I'm making snippy sarcastic comments about death threats in my head?

The feeling of Xander's hand trembling with rage stops my uncomfortable internal dialogue. Focusing on my mate, I bring his hand to my mouth to kiss and nuzzle my mark. We wiggle ourselves deeper into one another and say nothing, something Xander and I have been honing all afternoon. So here we sit, enjoying the crisp autumn air, fall foliage and midday sun, waiting for them to leave. But they don't. Concern prickles at the back of my neck, and I wonder how long we can hold our protective bubble.

"Brian, if you want to talk pack business, you'll need to discuss it with me and Bruce," Xander's mother commands as she and Bruce put themselves firmly between us and the disgruntled pack members, adding a much-needed buffer. Lengthening her spine and placing her hands on her trim hips, which are accentuated by her black low-rise, flared dress pants and tall black platforms, she informs the group, "As you know, my son has deferred his position as alpha to Bruce and myself for the time being."

Bruce places a hand on Brian's shoulder and gives it a few taps while saying, "Come on, Brian, now's not the time for this. You can address your concerns at the next open pack meeting." He then guides Brian and the rest of the wolves away from us.

Xander's mother turns and looks at her son with creased brows. Folding her arms over her chest, she rubs her red-painted lips together and exhales. "I'm sorry about that. I'd hoped they'd wait to voice their concerns at the next pack meeting, as was communicated to them prior to today." She rubs her hands up and down her arms encased in a black crop suit jacket. "Are you okay? Is there... anything you need from me or that I could do for you?"

Xander cranes his head to meet his mother's concerned and wary gaze. He gives her a slight shake of his head and replies, "No, Mom." Tipping his chin to our pack-mates, he says, "Jax and Ethan are taking care of us. We're good." He pauses and then adds in a rough voice, "Thank you for asking and for stepping in."

With that, she jerks a nod and says, "Okay, well I'm here if you need anything." She hesitates as if she wants to say more but doesn't know what to say, or how to act, still uncomfortable with their relationship now free of the person that controlled them all. She closes her mouth and gives him a tentative smile before walking away to help someone who's looking with interest at the price tag on the large rotisserie grill.

Holding Xander's hand in both of mine, we return our focus to our pack-mates, who are holding plates full of mouthwatering food. I crane my neck and am pretty sure I see some potato salad on one plate being held hostage as they deal with—HOLD UP. I push my sunglasses up, and all time stops as I watch Colette, standing far too close to Ethan, raise her hand toward him. Is she about to touch his face? Oh, hells no, and Little Fox agrees. Not having any of that, she releases an authoritative growl that rattles my ribs and pierces through my chest, penetrating the air in between us and my mates. Colette's hand stops midair, and she gasps loud enough for me to hear.

Ethan's body shivers, and he swings his startled gaze to mine. I lick my lips and give him a smirk, which he returns. Snuggling deeper into Xander's shoulder I murmur, "I think silence is powerful, but sometimes sending a message is needed."

His eyes track where mine are focused. Dipping his mouth to my ear, he gives it a nip and teases, "Especially when your food is being held hostage."

Rotating my head to him, I grin. "I won't deny the concern I have for my food's well-being and safe delivery. But could you call them all over here? I am curious as to what moved Colette to try and touch Ethan in such a blatant and intimate way. It seems unusually bold for her."

Xander's eyes hop around my face, and his lips curl into a lopsided grin before he turns to face our pack-mates. "Jax, Ethan," he calls out in a low voice. They both look up. "Why don't the four of you come over here. I'd like to hear what's being discussed," he suggests in a voice that's anything but suggestive. More like demanding, and damn hot.