Chapter 6: Dean

6

DEAN

T he glamorously decorated function room in the packhouse is close to bursting with boisterous shifters, eating, drinking, and laughing merrily. Social creatures, wolves love an excuse to have fun, and when you put so many together, it’s only going to end one way.

Loudly.

Every table is celebrating being here. Well, every table except ours. I can’t relax. My wolf can’t get used to the idea of having this many people in our territory. My nerves are fraught. My fight or flight response hasn’t eased off since the first wolf stepped across that bridge. I feel like a ticking time bomb.

“This is torture.” I hiss at a beaming Maya, my younger sister, who’s come to help. She doesn’t even attempt to hide her joy as she watches our pack mingle with the new arrivals. Now living off-territory with her new mate, she’s much more used to being around strangers, and finds my hatred of other people quaint. I won’t get any sympathy here.

To distract me from the partying crowds, Maya starts listing off all the progress we’ve made through the to-do list for today. All the contestants are registered. The dorms are packed, as are the bungalows dotted in the woods. The last-minute changes to the course for the first race are complete.

“We’re all set for the qualifying round tomorrow. You can kick back and relax now,” she confirms cheerfully, and I scowl at her. “Have a beer. Loosen up.”

Shit. This is just the qualifying round.

I blink at her, dread sitting like a knot in my chest. She meant her words to be reassuring, but all they do is remind me how many more days of this there are left to endure, and how many more to-do lists there are to be ticked off. I’ll never make it through it all. At least, not without losing my cool. Not with the way my wolf is behaving, pacing back and forth inside my mind.

“It’s going well,” Callum comments, tipping his head toward the happy tables. “No brawls, and nobody’s been stupid enough to complain about their room yet. That’s better than we thought.”

Begrudgingly, I nod. It has gone better than I thought it would, but it’s only day one. My wolf is on edge, just like at the brewery. Something is coming. I just wish it would happen sooner rather than later, because the wait is killing me.

So much so that as the meal draws to a close, I find myself standing and moving toward the exit, inexplicably drawn to the forest outside. My wolf is unsettled. If he were here beside me, he’d be prowling up and down the hall.

Callum watches me from across the room, finely attuned to my moods, and slowly sets down his cutlery before coming to join me at the doorway. He leans casually against the wall and brushes his dark curls away from his eyes, nodding in greeting at a group of young she-wolves who giggle as they hurry by. He keeps an easy smile on his face, but there’s an edge to the tone of his mind-link as he reaches out to me telepathically.

CALLUM: What’s up?

He knows from experience when to take my unease seriously. My wolf is rarely wrong. He might be temperamental, but his instincts are normally spot on.

“I don’t know yet, but something’s not right. Shit, can I leave? I can’t leave.” This fucking party. A band is setting up in the corner, and my staff is helping to clear some tables off the dance floor nearby. “I need you to check it out. Eastern border.” My words are sharp, but Callum doesn’t bat an eyelid. We’re brothers in every way but blood. Without saying anything or creating a fuss, he slips outside.

Moments later, two more of my warriors move to subtly cover the exits after spotting Callum leave, working together like a well-oiled machine.

“What’s going on?” Lynn mouths at me from across the room, but I close my eyes and shake my head, focussing on the mind-link, waiting for Callum to tell me what’s making me so damn twitchy. He’s barely gone thirty seconds when word comes through.

CALLUM: Trespasser. A rogue.

Standing up straighter, I crack my knuckles and focus on taking deep breaths while I wait for more information. There haven’t been rogues at my borders in years. I thought they’d have learned their lesson the last time.

DEAN: Where?

Fire courses through my veins as I think of someone trying to sneak into my territory while the games go on, putting all my efforts here in jeopardy. As I struggle to control my wolf, who’s practically bursting through my skin to get out there, I get a few nervous glances from partygoers nearby. My darkening mood is tainting the jubilant atmosphere around me. I hate this. I should be out there with my warriors, not in here making small talk and sipping wine like a damned politician.

CALLUM: Right where you said. He’s a big fucker too.

DEAN: I’m on my way.

When the live music starts, a cheer goes up, and the volume of the party bumps up another notch. You’d think this was the afterparty with the way they’re carrying on, but it’s no skin off my nose if some of them are too tired to perform tomorrow. If they want to be alphas, it’s not up to me to remind them they should probably take it easy.

With a nod to Lynn, I duck outside and shift, shaking out my fur and loving the feeling of freedom I have when my paws hit the earth and my wolf takes control. We take off toward the border, my wolf running faster than he ever has.

DEAN: Distract everyone, Lynn. Give out the timetables early or something if they start to wonder what’s going on.

I don’t need this. I’ve got enough going on without having to run a bunch of feral rogues off my land. Or worrying about one of my guests being attacked while they’re visiting here.

Did they think with so many different scents around, we wouldn’t catch them sneaking around? Or that I wouldn’t be as focused on guarding my borders?

I can’t decide which of those options is more offensive. Growling, I pick up the pace. I need to deal with this and get back to the party before anyone questions my absence. Whoever dared come here to cause trouble should be quaking in their boots. I’ve got days’ worth of bottled-up anger and frustration ready to be unleashed on someone and they’re going to be it.

Head down and pushing hard, my paws pound the dirt as I lengthen my strides. I don’t need to follow Callum’s trail or think about which path will get me there fastest. My wolf takes control and steers me straight where I need to go, his sixth sense uncannily accurate today.

Well almost.

As I get near, his focus strays to the hill beyond Callum’s location, pulling my attention that way. He thinks I haven’t spotted the other shifter watching me from higher ground. But I have, and I’ve felt that wolf’s presence before. Recently.

Instead of going where my wolf wants to, I studiously avoid looking in that direction. I’ll handle one problem at a time. And the first is why two rogues have walked into the most dangerous place they could be: a pack brimming with wannabe alphas trying to prove how brave and worthy they are.