3 Fried Chicken & Attempted Flirting

Ember

Orion drives me to the parking lot, and I’m left to retrieve my duffel from the trunk before he peels out. He doesn’t even bother to say goodbye or make sure I’m well received. The disrespect ruffles me, but there’s nothing I can do.

Ahead, only the edge of the training building and the front of two office buildings are visible. Their community is sprawling compared to Granite Ridge’s tight rows of houses and facilities.

A single guard watches me as he raises his phone to his ear. Not exactly the welcome I was expecting. Posture rigid, I fix my stare past him.

My brain whispers that I’m about to be ambushed and imprisoned. It’s not logical, but last time I was here, our packs clashed and I was taken away with my hands zip-tied. It’s not the kind of thing a girl forgets.

The training building has been refurbished. There are no signs of the destruction we wrought.

The image of Onyx leaning up against the training center’s metal wall, making jokes while his hands cover the wound just below his ribs, blood seeping between his fingers, plays behind my eyes. He might be as crazy as I am.

“Ember!” Hazel hollers, striding toward me with Slate at her side. Her smile is welcoming as they reach me, and luckily she doesn’t attempt to hug me.

“Alphas,” I respond respectfully. My chin dips, though my eyes never leave their faces.

“I hope you have a nice stay with us. We are going to have you stay with our pack’s Delta. His name is Fisher and his mate, Clove, is our pack’s baker.”

No faces come to mind at the names. “Sounds fine.”

“Alright, let’s head over there and get you settled.” She leads us north, past the training building until I enter a meadow blooming with wildflowers. It’s gorgeous.

Bracken Creek has been rebuilt. A new cafe sits in the same spot as the old diner we burned down.

Pack members wander around, going between their duties. A few curious gazes follow us, but I see none of the disgust I expect. Surely they know who I am. My family was responsible for invading their home and severely injuring many of their packmates. Eventually, their hatred will come out, and then I’ll know exactly where I stand.

With an even breath, I straighten my spine and stride forward with all the faux confidence I can muster.

The Delta’s cabin stands two stories with large windows. Split-log steps lead up to the double front door.

A tall woman opens it. A few silver hairs streak her reddish brown hair, pulled into a no-nonsense bun. Lines crease around her eyes as she smiles at me.

Her partner looms behind her. His strong jaw and straight nose feel familiar. Before I can place him, another figure steps into view. Dirty, dark blonde hair swept back into a small ponytail, deep blue eyes that make my stomach clench, a mouth that curves in a mocking smirk.

Are you fucking kidding me?

“Ember, this is Clove and Fisher,” Hazel says. “And you remember Onyx.”

“Nice to meet you,” I say, refusing to look at the man who had his hands all over me just days ago.

Clove’s warm smile is genuine and I find myself drawn to her, but her mate’s expression is colder, holding the suspicion I expect from this pack. Without wavering, I step forward. His judgment is fair and deserved and I won’t let it get to me.

“We’ll see you at dinner tonight.” Slate says, stepping back and taking Hazel with him .

The Alpha female looks between her mate and me. “The pack eats together. Onyx can bring you down to the diner in time.” Her shoulders rise and drop, her polite smile relaxing. “I think tonight includes some bread Clove baked?”

“Tonight is fried chicken, so Crickett requested buttermilk biscuits. I finished them about an hour ago,” Onyx’s mother explains. That explains the nutty flour scent Onyx has.

I draw in a slow breath before I realize I’m seeking out his smell. No way, not going to happen!

“Can’t wait. See you all then,” Hazel says, swinging her hand clasped in Slate’s. He ducks his head in a goodbye nod.

“Here, Onyx, take her bag,” Clove instructs.

Instinctively, I clutch the duffle tighter. “I can handle it.”

“Just let me be a good host,” Onyx argues. With a glare, I allow him to pry the bag from my grip. The brush of his fingers triggers a shiver and I tense my shoulders to stop it from traveling down my body.

Clove leads the way into their cabin. “We eat breakfast in the kitchen, and then bedrooms are down this hallway.”

“You have a beautiful home,” I say.

The kitchen is clad in blonde wood and pale marble countertops. Open shelving reveals jars of baking supplies. Tubs of chocolate chips and dried fruit. Powders I can’t identify, ranging from dark brown to snowy white .

“This is our daughter’s room. Briar is staying with friends for a few days, so you’ll have privacy.” Clove stops at a doorway. A smattering of pink stickers decorate the open door.

The Delta, Fisher, has disappeared, but Onyx still trails behind me. “Don’t worry about anything you find in here. Bri’s a weirdo.”

“I won’t snoop,” I say, my hands clenching defensively.

“Thank you, dear,” Clove says.

At the same moment, Onyx says, “Oh please, snoop away.”

With a sigh, she ignores her son and continues, “Briar cleared out her top two drawers, so you can unpack into those if you’d like to.”

It’s so considerate, I stiffen. If the packs were reversed, I would be tossed into a basement and locked away for my entire stay. Instead, this pack has made an effort to make sure I am comfortable and welcome.

“It’s only a few days,” I say, my voice too high. “I can manage out of my suitcase. But tell her thank you for me.”

“Of course. I’ll leave you be. Onyx, keep an eye on the clock. It’s only twenty minutes until dinner. I need to head back to help Crickett in the diner.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says to her retreating back.

I blink at his respectful response. He’s always been so rude or mocking to me, the gracious son routine startles me.

“You can just-” I start, holding my hand out for my duffle. Onyx sets it on the foot of the twin bed but doesn’t back away.

“What do you want?” I ask, challenging him. His proximity flitters across my skin like electricity.

For a moment he is silent. Just when I doubt he will say anything, he murmurs, “Did you know?”

“Know what?”

He’s lost his mind.

“That you were coming to stay here.”

“Well, I obviously figured it out when they stuck me in a car and drove here,” I say, obstinately refusing to answer his question.

“That’s not what I meant. At the gathering. Did you already know about this visit?”

“I found out the next morning, dude.”

He scoffs.

“What? Did you think I was setting up some sort of booty call before this lovely vacation?” I press, sarcasm heavy in my words.

“Well,” he says with a shrug. His t-shirt rises with the motion to reveal the waistband of his gray sweatpants and a sliver of tan skin.

“You’re the one who came on to me,” I hiss.

“Are you serious? You grabbed me,” he argues, his low voice a caress along my rib cage.

I’ve been here five minutes and I’m already fighting with this asshole.

“You’re delusional,” I shoot back.

“You practically pulled me on top of you,” he continues, extending his vowels dramatically.

Forcing myself to step closer, I grab a handful of his t-shirt to demonstrate how absurd his claim is. “Yes, I grabbed you and suctioned your mouth on my neck. You had no choice.” My biting words seem to weaken leaving my mouth. I’m distracted by the feel of his chest against my knuckles.

“That’s pretty much how I remember it,” he breathes. No longer angry, his words tease me, sending tingles from my chest to my toes.

“We were drunk,” I say. Glaring into his endless eyes, I double down on my lie. “And you’re a man-whore.” I know it’s a cheap shot and probably not true, but it’s the only thing that comes to mind.

Onyx throws his head back and laughs, exposing his throat to me. Fuck, he’s gorgeous. Unclenching my fingers, I step away, out of the haze of his citrus scent. Gulping down fresh air, I try desperately to clear my head.

The grin widening across his pretty face is a weapon in its own right. Most girls would swoon. I hold my ground, my teeth grinding together as I ignore the way my stomach flutters. Treacherous body.

“I’ll see you in fifteen for dinner, Hummingbird,” he says before closing the door behind him.

“You are such a dick,” I whisper at the closed door. His low laughter echoes in the hallway, barely detectable even with my sensitive hearing.

Heart racketing in my ribs, I survey his sister’s bedroom looking for a distraction from my heated skin.

Dried flowers splay in plastic frames along one wall. Christmas lights line the edge of the ceiling .

I would have given anything for a space like this. My sterile room back in Granite Ridge seems like a prison compared to this. Some sort of glossy green houseplant hangs from a hook by the window, the vines draping along the curtain rod.

The duvet is a creamy ruffled confection and I hesitate before sitting on it. The sheets and pillowcase are crisp and smell like detergent.

Curiosity wells up and I fold at the waist to peer under the bed. A low bin overflows with clothing, and beside it sit two soccer balls and a couple of wrinkled magazines. Reaching under, I extract a length of black ribbon, graying with age and dust. With two pinched fingers, I lay it across the dresser.

A stack of newer fashion magazines perches on the desk in the corner. These aren’t teen versions, but luxury fashion, like Vogue and Harper’s Bazaar. I’ve never read any of them. But from the creased corners, they look well-loved.

The desk holds gel pens, drawing pencils, and notepads. Under the school books, I find a sketchbook of fashion illustrations. Mostly dresses.

Who's heard of a wolf shifter who wants to design fashion? The thought makes me smile. It will be interesting to see what Onyx’s little sister does as an adult.

A door past the desk opens to a tiny bathroom. Dainty white tiles cover the walls up to waist-height, where a wallpaper of teeny sea turtles rises to the ceiling .

Artwork above the toilet features a flamingo in a yoga pose with the words, “Let that Shit Go.” Despite myself, I chuckle at it.

A girl could get spoiled in a room like this. Heading back to the bed, I tug open the gauzy curtains and take a deep breath. Maybe this won’t be so bad. I can hide in here and avoid Onyx. Yes, that’s a good plan.

Onyx

“Planning your escape already?” I ask, taking in Ember’s tempting figure before the window. A patch of purple lupine flowers sway between tree trunks visible from Briar’s room, their violet petals painted magenta from the fading sunset.

Ember spins, her eyes wide for a split second until her brain catches up and she settles into the wary glare I’m so familiar with.

“If I wanted to leave, I’d be gone already,” Her hands go to her hips, eyes alight with a fire.

“I have no doubt.” Playing polite host, I hold the door open. “Ready for dinner? You’re about to be very impressed. I’ve been told we have the best food of any pack.”

“Good to know,” she says, breezing past me. Her sugary floral scent washes over me and I follow after her like a puppy begging for scraps. She’s hostile and spiteful, but she smells amazing.

Inquisitive eyes jump to us when we enter the clearing. Most of the pack has gathered, though no one will eat until the Alphas do, per pack custom. We stroll toward my family, Ember doing her best to look unbothered, though I can feel anxiety rolling off of her.

Cedar and Briar stand beside our parents, Briar chattering away and Cedar listening stoically. He nods at me as we approach and Briar gives a little wave to Ember.

“Hi, I’m Bri,” she says.

“Ember.” She smiles, but it looks strained. “I think I’m staying in your room?”

“Yeah, hope you don’t mind it.” Briar scrunches her nose in a cute half-smile.

“It’s nice. Thanks.”

If I didn’t know better, I would think Ember was just another teenage friend of Briar’s who is a little shy.

“Hey.” A lanky boy with a tumble of reddish-brown hair joins us.

“This is Indie. He’s Marigold’s brother,” Briar explains to Ember, her hand going to Indigo’s arm. Ember looks between them and I wonder if she can see Marigold’s features in him. They have the same upturned nose and wide, friendly mouth.

“You’re Jasper’s sister, right?” Indigo asks.

“Yeah. Nice to meet you,” she says, though her tone is flat.

My eyebrow shoots up at the way Indigo’s hand comes up to cover Briar’s. Big brother instincts kick in and I’m tempted to pull them apart. Only a sharp look from Briar keeps me in my place.

The pack stirs as Hazel and Slate enter the meadow. With a light touch on Ember’s elbow, I lead her toward them. She jerks her arm away but thankfully follows my lead.

“Careful, you were almost nice there to my sister,” I say, leaning closer to her.

She scowls up at me. “Yeah, I’m typically nice to decent people.”

“What does that say about me?” I ask, slapping my hand over my heart with a dramatic sigh.

“I would think that is obvious.”

That’s a dangerously flirty response from someone who despises me. My pulse thuds faster. Before I can come up with a reply, we’re interrupted.

“Ember, I hope you’re hungry. Fried chicken is my favorite thing Crickett makes,” Hazel says, waving her forward. I trail behind, playing the obedient bodyguard.

Slate reaches out and grips my shoulder, leaning in to talk. “Doing okay?”

“Great,” I say, only slightly sarcastic.

Plates clink as we start down the buffet. Ember pinches her lush bottom lip between her teeth as she places fried chicken and roasted vegetables on her plate. I suspect she’s hyper aware of the packmates lining up behind us from the way her gaze flickers around nervously.

“See, I told you we have the best food,” I murmur as we exit the line. Her dark eyes travel from her plate to me and a hint of a smile curves her mouth before she turns away. Puffing up my chest, I follow Hazel and Slate to their favorite table on the edge of the trees .

Ember hesitantly takes the seat on the end, and I slide onto the bench beside her. Hazel and Slate settle across from us. Even once Cedar sits on Slate’s other side, the table feels empty without Jasper and Marigold.

“You guys eat together like this every day? It’s like some sort of celebration,” Ember says with a curious tilt of her head.

Slate’s brows furrow as he looks up at her. “Yes, of course. What does Granite Ridge do?”

“Um,” Ember flounders, “It’s not a social thing like this.”

Hazel grimaces. “Think more prison cafeteria and less restaurant.”

“That sounds appealing,” I say dryly, not missing how Ember’s mouth pinches.

“Ember, how are you liking our pack so far?” Slate asks.

She pauses, turning her fork over in her hand thoughtfully. “I’ve only seen this area and your Delta’s house. But it’s nice, I guess.”

“Pretty different from Granite Ridge, right?” Hazel asks with a gentle smile.

Ember moves in her seat, her eyes on her plate. “The two packs are very different,” she finally agrees.

“I mean, I didn’t get to see that much of Granite Ridge either. I spent half my time there locked in a basement,” Hazel says with a light laugh.

Slate’s jaw clenches. Tension pours through our pack bond .

With a determined frown, Ember meet’s Hazel’s gaze. “You had dinner with the Alphas, saw most of our facilities, and even got to see the woods between our two territories.”

“True,” Hazel says, the friendly curve of her mouth looking forced. She expertly deflects the conversation. “So how have things been for your pack in the last year?”

We’ve gotten reports of how unstable the pack is, which added to Jasper’s desire to investigate. Surely, Ember knows about those concerns, but she doesn’t choose to be honest.

“We’re fine. Rebuilding, just like you guys have done.” She nods toward the diner with its fresh metal trim gleaming.

“We only had to reconstruct a building. You lost several of your packmates during the attack,” Cedar interjects.

Her dark eyes narrow at my twin, her tone going ice cold. “Well, someone decided to fight with guns instead of tranqs and teeth like civilized packs do.”

It seems my little hummingbird has reached the end of her patience. The air feels heavy between us, like everyone is waiting for a bomb to explode.

“Ember,” Slate says slowly, “We didn’t have much choice in the circumstances.”

“How many wolves did you lose?” she snaps without missing a beat.

“We didn’t start the fight.” Slate is trying to be objective, but he lacks his mate’s people skills. A tick in his jaw gives away how infuriated he really is .

“Neither did I, big brother ,” she says, tossing her fork down and stepping over the bench. Hands balled into fists, she stalks away.

“Well, that went well,” Hazel growls at her mate. “You’re certainly fighting like siblings already.”

Slate scowls at Ember’s retreating back.

Scrambling up, I’m several steps away from the table before I look back and gesture at our plates. “Can you?”

“I got it,” Cedar cuts in. “Go.”

“Thanks,” I call over my shoulder, jogging to catch up with Ember. She strides into the trees, glossy hair whipping behind her as she shakes her head angrily.

“I don’t need a fucking babysitter.”

“Just making sure you don’t go back and torch my home.”

Before I can finish my joke, she’s on me. Her index finger jabs my chest, the pointed black nail pricking my skin through my shirt. “I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t make our packs enemies, I didn’t plan to take over your land, and I definitely didn’t want to come here.”

“I know.”

My response must startle her, because she freezes, her eyes still on my chest.

“I don’t think it means we have to be enemies just because our packs used to be,” I say, offering a tentative peace .

Achingly slow, her hazel eyes trace up my neck, snagging on my mouth and finally reaching my eyes. “But doesn’t it?”

“No.”

“Everyone hates me. I can feel it. It doesn’t matter. I don’t need to make a bunch of friends here.”

Considering how welcoming we’ve been, it irks me to hear that.

“I’m not talking about everyone else. I mean you and me.”

A harsh laugh breaks out of her throat. “You’ve made your opinion of me very clear.”

“Oh, really?” I say, waiting for her to clarify.

What opinion could that be? And was it before or after I kissed her and pinned her up against a building?

Her hand withdraws, her fingers threading together as she twists her hands absently. “Look, I don’t want to spend this whole time being judged or blamed for everything my pack has done, or what I did under orders. I’d like it if we just started over.”

“Fine by me. No judging or blaming. I can be civil if you can.”

She studies me and I suddenly feel very exposed. Tugging at my neckline, I let out a slow exhale, trying to stay calm under her scrutiny.

“I can be civil,” she says slowly, testing each word.

“Alright then, starting fresh as allies,” I say, “So do you want to go back to dinner?”

Ember lets out a breathy laugh. “I really don’t. But you should go back. ”

“That’s okay. I’m good.”

Her arms fold across her, hands gripping her upper arms. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to throw a tantrum. Slate just got to me.”

My mouth falls open. Is she actually apologizing? There’s a vulnerability in her eyes when she glances up at me shyly. This is a new side to her, a softness.

Hazel’s scent reaches us seconds before she appears through the trees.

“Ember,” she calls, her hurried steps closing the distance between us. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry. That was not how that conversation should have gone.”

“You don’t need to apologize for him,” Ember says, her shoulders rising defensively.

“Slate didn’t mean it like that. You guys really need to have a long talk and sort this out.”

Ember wavers, clearly wanting to decline but respecting Hazel’s rank.

“Look, we were thinking about a campfire tonight. I’d really like it if you joined us. It’ll be a good time to hang out all together.” Hazel tilts her head, brows bunched together in concern.

Ember’s expression hardens. “No, thank you.”

“I’d like to get to know you better, and I promise it’ll be fun. There will be s’mores! Please come?”

She could order Ember to attend and she’d be hard pressed to disobey, but instead, she’s asking kindly.

Ember’s eyebrows rise. “Fine. Where do I go? ”

“Everyone else is still finishing dinner, but then we’ll head to Onyx’s, actually. The twins have a great fire pit out back.”

“Alright,” she says begrudgingly.

“Awesome, I’ll see you in a bit. Are you hungry? I can grab you more dinner,” Hazel offers. I don’t miss how Ember tenses, blinking in surprise.

“No, I’m good,” she says, her tone softening.

With a hesitant smile and a nod, Hazel jogs back toward the clearing. She’s broken through a layer of Ember’s armor. Bit by bit, Ember is opening up, and I’m fascinated by the glimpses of what’s under all of her anger.