FORTY-EIGHT

Billie

"STEP RIGHT UP, FOLKS! For just twenty-five cents, you can come and stare at the fox-shifter!" the ringmaster bellows out under the spotlight from the center of the circus tent. Waving his top hat in my direction, he flashes a dazzling smile to the surrounding wolf-shifters. "Come stare at the audacious little fox-shifter, the vixen who has beguiled our former alpha's son and his betas. Spit, snarl, and growl at the freak who dares to think herself equal to us!"

Okay, so there's no ringmaster, and we're in the pack house, not under a tent. But it's how I felt when we took our seats in a small section of pews off to the side of the raised stage. I'm the circus sideshow, an unwelcome one at that.

The four of us met with the elders, Bruce, and Luna Ophelia in a backroom of the pack house prior to entering. The threats members of the pack have voiced about us (me) have been determined severe enough to warrant not only an escort but also the elders acting as my bodyguards by sitting behind us with their mates. I don't fail to notice the irony of us having senior citizens as bodyguards, but they've got a presence. When we entered the main hall, I chanced a glance around, hoping their precautions were an overreaction. But the number of bared teeth, narrowed eyes, and growls of warning that greeted us upon entering cut at that hope. I'm aware that many of the wolf-shifters were either indifferent or undecided, and some even smiled in welcome, but it's the threats that stood out. It's the survival brain at work. I will live longer if I pay attention to the poisonous snake instead of the pretty butterfly.

Ophelia has been on the stage for a while, explaining the general rules of the open meeting and a list of pre-determined agenda items. She's healthier than when we last saw her, and she looks like a luna. A little more weight has been added to her frame, perfectly filling out her tailored red business suit—a red that matches her nails and lipstick. Her sharp-edged pixie cut accentuates the curve of her cheekbones, and the sharp line of her jaw adds a sense of no-nonsense authority to her image. All of that helps, but really, it's the way she's holding herself: spine straight, shoulders back, and chin high. Her steps are practiced and sure. She's in command. I don't want to stir anything up in the pack, but I'm wondering about the defined female and male roles and how wolf-shifter powers differ between genders—that is, if they do. Does a luna have the same powers as an alpha?

Even with the escort and the support and protection of the elders and leaders of the pack, I'm still on edge. Over the edge actually. Like Wile E. Coyote running too far, only to look down and see nothing below his paws, just waiting to plummet to the rocky valley below. I've been using all the coping strategies I know to prevent my mind from fabricating potential attacks or seeing snakes where butterflies are: rubbing my fingers together, diaphragmatic breathing, checking out the architecture, which I've noticed lacks dental molding, and finally, chewing my gum with TMJ-inducing fervor.

I keep reminding myself nothing has actually happened, so freaking out would be illogical. I'll just wait for them to start attacking me, then I can freak out... and back to chewing my gum.

Not able to focus on Luna Ophelia's speech enough to combat my swirling anxiety, I dig through the large bag I brought with me and pull out my last resort. Taking out some pens and the stack of preprinted paper I made up this week, knowing I would be here today, I whisper to Jax, "Do you want to play?"

WOOF, WOOF BINGO FOX HUSSY FREE SPACE DUCHESSA TRAMP FOX-SHIFTER MENTAL CASE WOLF-SHIFTER GOLD DIGGER SPECIAL ED. ALPHA HUMAN BETA FREE SPACE SLUT ORPHAN SUBSPECIES NON-PACK UNWORTHY NON-WOLF UNTRAINED WOLF JEZEBELL FREE SPACE HARLOT LIABILITY LONER OPPORTUNIST LEARNING DISABILITY FOSTER KID WHORE FREE SPACE

Turning to me with furrowed brows, Jax takes a moment to read what is printed on the page, and his eyes widen as understanding dawns on him. "Holy shit, Billie! Did you create a bingo card of insults you're expecting to hear tonight?" he asks in disbelief while taking the paper and pen.

"I mean, yeah, I think it's kind of obvious," I answer all casual-like, as if I'm not a twisted mess of anxiety and fear sitting here. "I made several. All the same words but in different orders, so you can leaf through them and pick out the one you want." Jax's eyes search mine like he's trying to determine whether this is a good idea or not. I get it, but I've already thought this through. "Jax." I dramatically sigh. "Trust me, this way I'll pay attention and not zone out, and the words will just be words instead of insults because I'll be more focused on filling up my card."

He looks at me for a long minute, then hands me back the paper and gives me a lopsided grin. "Mix them up and turn them upside down. That way it's luck of the draw."

My heart bursts with love for him, my lifelong playmate. I quickly do as he suggests and bob my head. "Good call, let the fates decide who wins."

Jax's father leans over his son's lap and gives me a shy smile. "Can I also have one, Duchessa?"

I damn near squeal but remember where I am and just vigorously nod my head with enough force it could be considered head banging. Only then to feel the tap of Gertie's firm fingertip on my shoulder. I turn to see her and Elder Allan looking at the papers with keen interest. The unfocused anxiety that was swirling inside of me, seeing every shadow as a boogie... wolf, is swiftly transforming into concentrated excitement. Games! They're my emotional savior.

SEVEN. Seven of us are playing my Woof, Woof Bingo game! I'm so jazzed about it, I've almost forgotten the purpose of us being here. Then Luna Ophelia announces, "Now that we're through news and general upkeep. . ." Her eyes cast over the crowd, in particular the pack members lined up behind two standing microphones, one in the center aisle, the second one off to the other side of the hall. Erecting her spine and raising her brows, she states, "It seems we have many that wish to speak, so let us begin. Please be mindful of the time. We stop at midnight regardless." Focusing on the line farthest from us, she keeps her face neutral and gestures a hand. "Brian and Coco Callahan, are you speaking together?"

"Along with our daughter, Amber Callahan," Coco purrs, extending her arm back for Amber to step forward. Both she and her mother are wearing matching dark-blue long-sleeve bodycon minidresses.

Not that I can say anything about the matchy-matchy since Ethan, Jax, and I all found white fleece jackets, white chamois long-sleeves, and white cable-knit fisherman's sweaters laid out for us to choose from, along with a pair of jeans each. Apparently, our alpha had decided we should dress similarly for any formal meetings. When Ethan arched a brow in question, Xander stated, "Unity," in a firm, this-is-not-up-for-discussion type of tone. Ethan muttered, "White?" and Xander replied, "The pack house is dark. I want us to stand out together." With that, Ethan relented with a nod of understanding. Jax was more than happy, proclaiming that white brought out the warmth in his skin. I didn't really care; it made my life easier, and at least he gave us options.

"Very well," Luna Ophelia replies with a nod. "Please state your concerns and to whom you would like to speak."

"We would like to petition for an amendment to be made to one of our pack laws concerning the requirements needed to be considered a member of this pack," Brian declares while pulling a folded piece of paper from the back pocket of his jeans. Unfolding the paper, his eyes squint as he reads, "Presently we have it stated that if a current pack member bonds with his or her true-mate who is a non-pack member, so long as the bond is authenticated by our elders and the Shifter High Council, then that non-pack member immediately begins the process of becoming part of our pack"—his upper lip pulls back in a sneer— "if they choose."

"Correct," Ophelia agrees.

"Well," Brian gusts out. Looking around with disbelieving eyes, he scoffs an indignant laugh. "Many of us just assume that in order to be a member of this pack, you'd need to be a wolf-shifter." There are many nods and grunts of agreement.

"But yet," Coco snarls, pointing a long blue-painted nail in my direction. "We have a fox-shifter present at our pack meeting." The threat doesn't hit like it would have before the game. Now in a playful mood, I choose to be a little petty... and I like it . Looking around with wide eyes as if I'm trying to figure out who she's talking to, I meet her accusatory gaze and point to myself, mouthing, "Me?"

Amber steps forward and throws her hands up screeching, "Yes, whore, we're talking about you!" Finding a sense of power in my juvenile tactics—antics, maybe? —I give her the okay hand signal, follow it with a thumbs up, then finish with a circling roll of my hand for them to proceed.

Jax and his father both clamp hands over smiling mouths, trying to muffle their laughter. The twin action catches Amber's eyes. Her hands fist at her sides, and I'm fairly confident I see smoke puffing out from her nostrils. Awesome, now she's even angrier.

Luna Ophelia steps to the very front of the rounded stage. With her hands clasped behind her back, she probes, "Brian, what requirements are you suggesting?"

"That in order to be a member of this pack, you need to be a wolf-shifter," Brian states, swinging his gaze around the room with a palm in the air like isn't it obvious ? "Simple as that. We're a wolf-shifter pack, not an all-shifter pack." He glares at me. "And we will not allow other subspecies to dilute or tarnish our gene pool by mating with members of our pack." Xander's hand on my nape, which has been there since we sat down, tightens, and his fingers begin to dig into the tendons and muscles. Just a deep-tissue massage, that's all. He's not pissed about what's being said, nope.

"I see," Ophelia replies. Drawing in an inhale while calmly pacing across the stage in her black velvet pumps, she bobs her head. "And when current members of our pack find their divinely chosen true-mates that are non-wolf-shifters, what do you suggest then?"

"They should be advised not to bond or mate with them," Brian argues, pushing the sleeves of his blue-and-white flannel up.

"So you're suggesting taking away the option for our pack members to be with their divinely chosen true-mates?" Ophelia clarifies. Cocking her head to the side, she looks at him with curiosity. "You'd want us as a pack to make our own wolves choose between their community, their family, and the opportunity to experience divine love?"

Brian pulls his head back, and his eyes bulge in surprise. Swiping a hand over his cleanly shaved head and down the back of his neck, he grunts, "No. Not like that." He glances down at the paper and extends it out in front of him, then brings it closer, making me wonder if he needs glasses. Coco places her hand on his shoulder, offering him support, and his bodily tension eases under her touch. "If he wishes to look outside of the pack for a mate. . ." No longer hiding that this is a personal issue for him, he lifts his gaze to Jax and narrows his eyes, snarling. "If he does this even when a better mate, a WOLF , who knows how to love him and has proven to be able to satisfy his needs"—Amber steps forward and rubs her hands up and down the sides of her hips while pushing her chest out with her determined eyes locked onto Jax— "more than any other shifter possibly could, then he can." With that Little Fox—this freakin' fox, man—removes her hoop earrings and starts doing some stretching like she's getting ready for a rumble.

Brian glances at me, his mouth taking on a devilish grin. "The non-wolf-shifter will only be allowed to be a member of the pack in name. She will not be allowed to attend pack functions. She with not have voting rights, nor will she be allowed to represent or be associated with the pack in any way, especially in front of non-pack members."

"No, Rudolph, you can't play in our reindeer games," I mutter to myself, trying to stay calm. But Little Fox is straight-up pissed, and cracks of energy prickle in my chest with the raising of her tail. FUCK. I lean toward Xander, and he meets me halfway while keeping his eyes on Brian. Trying to keep this playful, I drawl, "Hey there, Shipoopi."

"Yes, Snookums?" he replies with a forced lightness in his tone, his lips barely moving.

Tugging on my ear, I stammer, "So, um... Little Fox is not too happy about what's being said right now." Xander turns his focus to me, his eyes scanning my face. I swallow. "Like, her tail is in the air, and um... I'd rather her not use it, so can I respond to anything that's being said, or no?"

"Yes," Elder Allan comments from behind us. I rotate my head around to him. He pushes his round glasses up and explains, "As it stands now, you are technically considered part of the pack as you are in the process of becoming an official member. Open pack meeting procedures state you can address anything that is directly targeted at you."

Xander slides his hand from my nape to my shoulder and pulls me deeper into his embrace while his other hand cups my face. His mouth is warm when he whispers against my ear. "I would like to see how the luna handles this first. Can we do that, Little Fox?"

Though she preens at being addressed personally, his request is still met with a roll of her eyes and a huff of annoyance. She lays her tail back down. I nod. "Yes, but not long."

"Interesting. Now tell me, Brian," Luna Ophelia muses while clasping her hands low in front of her. "I know you and Coco are divinely bonded true-mates. For this example, let's pretend." Her eyes slide to Coco, and she gives her a teasing smile. "We're only pretending, okay, Coco?" Coco nods, and Ophelia continues. "Let's pretend Coco was a coyote-shifter. By your rules, she would have no rights in the pack or protection from the pack. Furthermore, she would not be allowed to be seen with you, let alone touch you, in public." She gestures her palm to them. "Like how her hand is lovingly rubbing your shoulder now, that would not be allowed. She would most likely be treated poorly by rest of the pack, with no repercussions." Her eyes lock on Brian, and she shrugs a shoulder. "How would that make you feel? Would you be able to stand behind a pack that shunned and treated your divinely chosen true-mate with such prejudice?"

"But I'm a—" Coco starts, but Bruce, who's standing on the side of the stage, cuts her off.

"It is pretend, Coco." He takes two long strides forward and addresses Brian. "Brian, answer Luna Ophelia's question. Would you be able to stand behind a pack that took away all of Coco's rights? That judged your relationship so harshly you would not be able to be seen in public together, that allowed her to be persecuted and mistreated by other pack members with no consequences?"

Brian turns his head to Coco, and his hand covers hers on his shoulder. His eyes rake over her body from her leopard-printed heels all the way up to the confident set of her jaw. A smile that is somehow both salacious and prideful slinks over his face before he returns his attention to Bruce. Crossing his arms over his chest and pursing his thin lips he scoffs, "I'd never allow myself to be bonded to non-wolf-shifter."

Bruce swipes a hand down his tired face, his fingers scratching at his full salt-and-pepper beard. He groans a huff. "Brian, think about what you're proposing with this amendment. No divinely bonded true-mates would be able sit idly by and allow for their mate or their relationship to suffer such treatment." Bruce's black work boots thump against the stage as he treads over to the edge near where we're seated. Setting his hands on his hips, his gaze sweeps over all of us, finally landing on Xander. "What would you do, Alpha Alexander?" he questions with a tilt of his head to the side. "What would you do if our pack were to implement this new amendment and then apply it to you and your true-mate?"

Xander's gaze is hard and unflinching. "I'd leave the pack."

"We all would," Jax growls, and Ethan jerks a definitive nod that somehow speaks louder than words. I drape my leg over Jax's in a clear sign of possession, and he lays his hand over my thigh.

"You'd leave your pack?" Amber shrieks. We all twist our heads in her direction. She marches her way over to us, her heels click-clacking an angry tenor against the stone floor. "The pack you grew up in, the pack you're meant to take over and lead?" Pointing a finger at me, she screeches, "For her?" Jax's hand grips my leg tighter. I haven't checked in on my bond with Ethan, but I'd assume he's not happy either. Nonetheless, three out of the four of us, pretty much 80 percent, are definitely showing signs of frustration. And Little Fox is protracting her claws. Splendid.

Amber's face is red, and her eyes are watery by the time she comes to stand directly in front of Jax. In a warbly voice, she begs, "You have me, Jaxson, honey. Be with me and stay with the pack. We were good together, baby." Her teary eyes roam over Jax's face and body, and she bites her glossy lip. I mean, who can blame her? He looks damn delectable in his white chamois long sleeve with the first three buttons undone, showing his tatted tanned skin. As I mentioned earlier, he knows white is one of his colors. Her arm reaches out to touch him. And that's the proverbial straw for me and Little Fox.

"I would suggest you step away from my mate," I state in a clipped voice while my eyes glow in warning. Bending my knee around Jax's leg, I wrench myself up. His hands help guide me to straddle his leg. Leaning all the way into his chest, I feel his arm band around my waist. I feel the tension held in his body, the rapid beat of his heart, and I have to grind my teeth to prevent myself from taking a bite out of her. How dare she make him feel this uneasy and stressed out. Shimmying my hips, I wiggle myself deeper into my playmate, who loves snuggles. I tilt my head to the side and rub my cheek along his hard chest. My fox hums low through my back. Jax takes a large inhale, and on the exhale, his chest vibrates with Blondie's murr, while he lays soft kisses at my hairline. His body relaxes around mine.

Amber pulls back but she doesn't leave. Why don't they ever leave? Tossing her lustrous long hair over her shoulder, she places one manicured claw on her jutted-out hip and snidely says, "Oh please. So your eyes glow different colors. What does that matter when you're too new to our world to even know if you can actually do anything?" Her comment hits a soft spot, but I don't let it show. She trails her gaze from my feet to my head, her eyes tapering and her nostrils flaring. She tuts. "You're a fox, and foxes are prey for wolves in nature. Untrained or trained, it makes no difference. You could never best me."

Three warning growls vibrate the air around us. I hold up my hand and drawl out a cautionary "Easy." Then, keeping my eyes on Amber, I lean around Jax's shoulder and inquire. "Elder Allan, what are the rules around physical altercations at these meetings?"

"Safe environment," he states. "So, for a wolf pack, nothing that would require them to shift in order to heal."

Amber slaps a hand over her chest and cackles. "Checking to make sure I can't hurt you?"

"Nope," I chirp. Then with practiced speed, I swiftly grab her wrist and shoot up to standing. Twisting her arm behind her back, I bend it upward at the elbow and press the wrist back with my thumb. My other arm locks around her neck, and I shove my thigh between her legs, arching her back and taking away her stability while bringing her down to my height. It happens within seconds, and I'm learning that my initial response is to fight like a human while shifters seem to want to fight in their shifter form. I briefly wonder what would have happened had I let Little Fox take over at Castle Island. If tapping into her powers could become just as natural as me putting an opponent in an arm lock or throwing a hook into a kidney—well, I need to learn how to be a shifter, fast.

At this instance, it seems my instincts work in my favor. Amber is completely taken by surprise and can only clutch and scratch at my arm around her throat. Thankfully the thick cable-knit sweater prevents her from breaking the skin, and with one press of my thumb on her wrist, she freezes.

Anger and frustration seem to be like burning embers in me lately, hot coals that with one gust of wind, one altercation, burst into fiery flames. I'm just so damn sick of these bitches underestimating me. Just because I don't seek conflict doesn't mean I don't excel in it. I was taught you don't step in the ring unless you're prepared to fight, and right now, I'm standing in the center with my dukes up.

I bring my mouth to her ear and bare my teeth, seething. "You know my history, Amber. Lost my parents at the age of six. Then survived six years in the foster care system, where I was considered... difficult ." I roll my eyes and snicker. "Outbursts and all. Then I spent the next eight years in a boxing gym. Do you know what that all means, hmm?"

"That you're a pathetic orphan, who has mental issues!" she wheezes out, her throat pressing against my hold with the effort to speak. I squeeze tighter.

"Perhaps," I say on an exhale and then stiffen my spine and grit my teeth. "Maybe it means I know what it feels like to have love and to have it taken from you. Snatched away in the night, without being able to hold on one last time. But even with that love ripped from me, leaving behind only its memory, I still found the will to survive and live." I scoff a harsh laugh. "And I obviously know how to fight."

The truth of what I shared and what I'm about to say unleashes a torrent of raw emotions with enough force that my body shakes. The years of love that were unjustly snatched from me. The way I patched myself together and guarded my heart, knowing all too well how agonizingly easy it can be torn from my chest. I grew up with a gaping hole in my heart, only to find Enzo and then The Den and how they never pushed for more but were always there for me. Then came my mates, who blasted through my defenses and opened up an entire existence I was unaware of yet lived within me. We each express our love differently, and yet it is still honest love. When it's real love—the only ones who need to understand it are those sharing it. It's vulnerable, the love I have for them makes me feel, and also the strength it gives me.

It's a love I will not only die for but also fight for. It's a love I will live for.

I let those deep-seated yet delicate emotions seep into our bond, understanding how fragile life is and more so how powerful love can be. Little Fox rises, and my throat tingles with her power threading into my voice as I vow, "I will never let love be taken from me by another again. I've fought to live when I had no love. I can only imagine what kind of fight I will bring now that I have love again."

I wrench her arm up a little higher. She whimpers. The sound pleases me, and a deep-throated, husky laugh rolls through me as I say, "Jaxson is my bonded true-mate, and based on the other night together, I assure you he's plenty satisfied, considering. . ." I lick my lips. "Considering I sat on his face while he ate me out with such hunger my whole body was trembling with my orgasm. Then he plowed that large dick of his into my pussy, coming so hard he forgot how to breathe while blissfully collapsing on top of me. I'll save Ethan and Xander's sex stories for another time, though they were right there with us." I huff. "Now leave my mates alone and go find your own." Releasing my hold, I give her a helpful shove in the right direction, causing her to stumble.

Drawing in a calming inhale I sit back down and grab my sheet, turning my attention to bingo. Orphan , mental case , fox , wolf —check, check, check, check. If only someone would call me a slut...