13. Thirteen

thirteen

P enn stomped snow all over my living room. I had never seen him so furious. His blue-gray eyes shone pure gold at the edges. His body strained to keep his wolf inside, neck muscles taut. He rounded on Evera and me.

“Go upstairs,” he barked, the authority falling just short of affecting me.

“No. First, tell me what happened,” I demanded.

Penn’s thunderous gaze shifted to Evera for a second, but she remained by my side.

He shook his head, some of the anger fading into amazement. “The fight started over a damn glass of wine. Someone mispronounced sauvignon blanc, someone else corrected him, and then all hell broke loose.” He studied me for a long moment, a little blue peeking through the gold in his irises. “Does that satisfy your curiosity?”

I took my sweet time while I considered the question.

“Were there any serious injuries?” I asked.

Penn’s focus narrowed slightly. “A stray died. Four others are with the healers.”

“What about pack wolves?” I pressed. “Were any of our people hurt?

I hated how “us” versus “them” I sounded, but I meant exactly that. The strays would never be part of our pack, no matter how many times Finneus declared they were.

Penn shook his head. “Nothing more than a few scratches.”

I wanted to ask him where his brother disappeared to during the skirmish, but worried that might put a dam in the river of information flowing from Penn. Instead, I said, “The strays will face a tribunal for what they’ve done, yes?”

Penn’s jaw worked back and forth. “No. No tribunal. I will decide their punishment on my own.”

Beside me, a slow smile spread across Evera’s face, though she remained silent.

His gaze captured mine again. “Will you please go upstairs, so I can deal with it?”

Maybe it was the champagne I’d downed, or the fact a brawl had erupted during a ceremonial function, but my blood was flowing faster than normal. I didn’t feel particularly obedient.

“Why can’t we stay down here?” I demanded.

Penn closed his eyes for several beats, like he was counting to three in his head. Apparently, the calming technique didn’t work because his reply was terse. “Why can’t you just do what I say?”

Evera chewed her lip and watched the exchange with interest.

“Because your orders make no sense,” I shot back.

Penn’s chest puffed, a vein in his neck jumping. “Fine,” he barked. “Suit yourself.” He strode past us to the front door, slamming it shut once he’d stepped onto the porch.

Evera turned to me, eyes twinkling. “Why, Drake… Were you just flirting with the beta?”

I made a face. “What about that exchange came across as flirty?”

She laughed. “Seriously? The entire thing. It’s not so much what you said as how you said it.”

I frowned and started for my room, which made Evera crack up as she followed me.

“What’s so funny?” I demanded when I reached the second-floor landing.

“Seriously?” she asked again.

I gritted my teeth.

“You just fought so hard for free rein of the house, yet the first place you go is exactly where Penn wanted you.” Evera narrowed her gaze, and spoke as if to a child when she added, “You see the humor in that, right? Spending so much time with Mr. Personality hasn’t rubbed off on you?”

I slid past her to the bedroom. “I thought it was your job to let me know if I became boring.”

“You’re right.” She gave a dramatic sigh. “I hate to be the one to tell you, Drake, but your sense of humor has fled the premises.”

Sadly, she wasn’t wrong. I had found very little funny since Finneus upended my life. Not wanting to make her feel bad, I swallowed my response before giving it voice.

We swapped our gowns for loungewear. The clothes hung too long on Evera’s short frame, but she rolled the pants at the waist and the pullover at the sleeves. She didn’t press me to share the thoughts in my head, though she did give me a few worried glances.

“Now what?” Evera asked.

I attempted a smile. “Now we stuff our faces and gossip about what everyone wore tonight.”

This had been our after-formal ritual for years. Normally we didn’t change beforehand, but I was over formal wear at this point.

We encountered a flaw in the plan as soon as we opened my pantry. There was a quarter bag of truffle potato chips, most of which were broken. The white cheddar popcorn didn’t have that much remaining either. That left us with tortilla chips.

“Do you have salsa?” Evera asked. Her eyes went wide. “Oh, or queso dip?”

“Maybe?”

She laughed as she headed toward the fridge. She opened the door and ducked her head inside. I brought the chips to the center island and then found a large bowl to dump them in. Evera resurfaced with several jars of salsa, all with only remnants left inside. She’d also grabbed a block of cheese and a bag of the shredded variety.

“I can make something work with this,” she said. “Just give me a few minutes.”

Evera spent enough time in my kitchen that she knew what was in which cabinet. She used soy sauce holders from a sushi set for salsa dishes, then tossed the shredded mozzarella over the chips.

“Are we having Italian nachos?” I asked, leaning a hip against the island.

She pulled out the block of cheese and a grater. “This cheddar is from a local farm. So, I guess that makes them Ophiuchus nachos.”

My involuntary nostril flare didn’t go unnoticed.

“Right. Sorry. We aren’t feeling team green.” She carried the bowl to the microwave and popped it inside. “Let’s call them….” She trailed off, lips moving as she tried to work out something in her head. “Dravera’s chips and more?”

I laughed. “I love it.”

The microwave beeped, and she brought the bowl back over to the counter. “Let snack time begin,” she declared, handing me a napkin.

I selected a cheesy chip and dipped it in the mango habanero salsa. The combo was strange, yet oddly delicious.

“Wanna talk about what happened?” Evera shoved an entire chip in her mouth.

I shrugged. “What’s there to say?”

Concern returned to her expression. “Those dogs caused a bloodbath, and you have no feelings on the matter?” She cracked the next chip and dunked it in salsa verde.

“They’re strays. In hindsight, we really should’ve expected this.” I went to the cup cabinet and found two glasses. I filled them with water from the jug in the fridge and set one in front of Evera.

“Thank you,” she said around a mouthful of food.

“I’m more interested in why Finneus chose Belinda,” I said, choosing another chip from the bowl. “Don’t tell me you aren’t curious?”

“He brought a caster onto pack lands,” Evera pointed out. “Malia must have picked Belinda.”

“Okay…but why? I mean, she didn’t pull Belinda’s name out of a hat,” I said.

Evera chewed and swallowed before saying, “Maybe she did.”

Even when our conversation took a turn toward the catty, and we started compiling a worst-dressed list, I still pondered it. Sure, our evening breakdown wasn’t the most mature tradition, but I basked in the sheer normalcy of it all. Besides, enough people had whispered trash about me in the past few days, so I only felt marginally bad.

Once we polished off the nachos, we moved the party to the living room. Penn had stacked his pillow and folded blanket in one corner of the couch like usual. Evera’s eyebrows lifted when she spotted them.

“He’s well-trained,” she said.

I settled into my favorite recliner. My father had gone with me to select most of the furniture in my house—he’d also paid for it—but the chair was an impulse purchase. I’d gone into a human city to visit my favorite designer’s atelier and saw the chair in a window display. It all seemed so frivolous now.

Evera grabbed the remote and stretched out on the couch, propping her elbow on Penn’s pillow. She switched on the television and clicked on one of the many streaming channels.

“Are you in a why-can’t-humans-get-it-right mood?” she asked.

I shook my head. “No, that’ll just make me mad.”

“So, no paranormal or supernatural, got it. That knocks out a lot of horror too.” She scrolled down to the rom-com section. “How about meet-cutes and misunderstandings?”

I curled my legs beneath me and considered. All the rituals leading up to Finneus and Belinda’s true mates ceremony had turned me off from romance.

“How about a buddy comedy?” I suggested.

That seemed harmless.

Evera grinned. “I have just the thing.”

She navigated her way to one of our standbys and pressed play. I grabbed the chair’s reclining lever and pulled until I was at the ideal angle for both watching the television and lounging.

I didn’t remember falling asleep, or the haunting dreams from slumberland. The icy blast of air when the front door opened dragged me back to consciousness briefly. Penn’s warmth spread over me as he slid one arm under my knees and wrapped the other around my shoulders.

My cheek rested against his chest, and I heard his rapid heartbeat. He smelled of snow and blood and sweat, and I found the combination weirdly alluring. I opened my eyes for just a second, a part of me hoping to catch Penn off guard—to see him without a mask.

His stormy gaze lacked its normal turbulence as he stared down at me. I smiled, my mind somewhere between sleep and reality. My body felt tingly and warm, and I felt safe in Penn’s arms.

“Why are you so happy?” His almost teasing tone was at odds with the stench of violence.

My eyelids drooped. Penn’s grip tightened as we started up the stairs.

“It’s nice when your face is naked,” I mumbled incoherently.

Soft laughter rumbled in my ear. Penn opened the door to my bedroom without jostling me too much. He laid me on my bed, draping a quilt over my body. He leaned close and whispered in my ear.

“I prefer your face naked too.”