Chapter - Richard

Istride through the dark entry hall, the treehouse turning lights on for me as I go. A wide, circular wooden ramp leads up to the main living level, a cavernous open room with a kitchen on the left-hand side. After crossing the room toward an oversized pit sofa, I drop Lola's bags on it and turn. Connall joins me, the princess right behind him, one hand on her elbow. She rubs the back of her arm as she stares at me.

"This is lovely," she whispers. "Absolutely lovely." But she's barely looking around, even though the treehouse practically quivers with excitement at having a guest.

Instead, a scent cuts through the air—stress.

When I shoot Connall a look, he flares his nostrils and breathes in quietly. Green eyes flash to mine, and, like always, he reads my sentiment. Nodding, he drops Lola's bags next to the ones I carried. Her scent grows stronger as he gives her a friendly smile, and turns to leave.

Her muscles begin shaking as she drops her hands to her waist, clasping them together as she flashes me a big smile.

Fake.

Big dark eyes fill with tears until she spins away from me and looks out of the glass wall opposite the kitchen.

Do. Something. Now! Big Daddy bellows in my mind. His suggestion is pointless—I'm already across the room.

That scent—her scent—calls to the deepest and most instinctual part of my alpha nature. I'm committed—no, it's more than that. I'm resolute in my need to support and care for my people.

And that began to include her the moment she stepped into my haven.

I close the space and press my larger frame to hers, wrapping my hands around her upper arms.

She looks up, the first tear trekking down her bronze skin. Her trembling intensifies as I rub her upper arms.

"What's wrong, Lola?" I murmur softly, a purr rolling out of my chest. I don't use it often; it feels rumbly and awkward like an old engine starting up for the first time. But like every time I've purred to comfort, I know it works when her shoulders sag slightly. She presses her body closer to mine, tilting her chin up to stare into my eyes.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. The tears come faster.

"For what?"

"For crying." The tears are full-on rivers now, and despite the fact that she's pressed to me and I'm purring my heart out, the scent of anxiety perfumes the room with a bitter smell that chokes me.

Fixfixfixfixfix.

Big Daddy shoves to the forefront of my consciousness as I dip down and rub my cheek along Lola's. If anything was going to comfort her, it would be that gesture.

But instead, the soft crying morphs into shuddering sobs, her athletic frame shaking as she rubs her cheek along mine. When she abandons the move and buries her face in my chest, I'm at a loss for the first time in a long time.

"Talk to me," I encourage, sliding my hands around her upper body to cocoon her in a tight hug. My shirt is damp from her tears as Big Daddy paces anxiously behind my breastbone. My job is to protect, to soothe, to care for.

Lola pulls out of my arms enough to look up with a deep sigh. "I…messed up, Richard. I did something Papá asked me not to do, and people have suffered the consequences of my actions."

Oh. Ohhhhh. I wondered if it was bothering her more than she let on. I need to hear the full story from Marco, too.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She gives me a sideways look. "I shouldn't speak badly about my father; it's in poor taste."

Sighing, I put a finger beneath her chin and guide her near-black eyes back up to mine. "You've known me your entire life, Lola. You can tell me anything, and I will keep your confidence."

She pauses for a moment, nipping at black-cherry lips before giving me a quick nod. "I try to play the part of the princess as well as I can, and honestly, I'm really good at it. I put the pack first almost all of the time." Her tone goes bitter, or maybe forlorn?

"I'm sure you can sympathize with this, but the higher up the shifter food chain you go, the more politics come into play, or so Papá tells me. I can't remember a time when we made choices simply because we wanted to."

I've had similar conversations with Marco many times over the years. I chose to move to a small pack in Ever precisely because of what she's talking about. Shifter court, at the highest level where she's from, is all about politics and connections.

"I wanted something for myself, even if it was only a few minutes," she whispers, eyes brimming with fresh tears. "But it turns out I can't have even that. Papá beat my best friend Leo for helping me. And then he demoted Nu?ez and sent me here for safekeeping." She jerks her chin out of my hand. "I didn't get to say goodbye to anyone."

Surprised and sensing she needs space, I take a step back and lean against the sofa's low side arm. Marco beat someone for helping her? That's…not right.

Frustration for the situation fills me, most especially for the crying omega in front of me. I keep my tone even and helpful as I try to reassure her. "You can contact anyone you want to from here. I know that won't ease the pain you feel over how things went down, but there's a comm disk in the kitchen that you're welcome to use."

She shoots me an incredulous look. "Papá didn't tell you to hide it or something? He made it seem like he wasn't telling anyone about me coming here."

I shrug. "He won't tell anyone you're in Ever, but if you have a few trusted friends, I don't think it's a big deal for you to call them."

She lifts her chin, leveling me with a serious gaze. "Do you think there's risk in me calling them? I wouldn't want to put Leo or any of my packmates in a bad way due to another poor decision."

I shake my head and reach for one of her elegant, long-fingered hands, bringing it to rest over my heart. I've found over the years that the steady beat tends to calm even the flightiest of wolves. I suppose that's an advantage of being my pack's alpha. The ways I can comfort and soothe are almost too numerous to count.

Lola's near-black eyes drift to my chest and back up as she bites her lower lip.

I clear my throat. "Your father told me about Eliel. I'm aware of that threat. But I can't see a reason that chatting with Leo would be unsafe. There's no way for Eliel to even get to Ever without coming through the portal, and we guard that. You're safe here, Lola."

She grits her jaw, a muscle working overtime as her fingers dig into my shirt. After a long, quiet moment, she continues. "I'd definitely like to check on him since he was hurt because of me."

I cock my head to the side, admiring the innate strength that's so clear in her. Like any good packmate, she worries for others before worrying for herself. She hasn't asked me a single thing about the safety of Ever in comparison to Santa Alaya. About her safety.

"There's only one thing I want to be clear while you're here," I say softly, drawing her attention once more.

When she gives me a curious, guarded look, I smile.

"I want you to have fun. I want you to decide how to spend your days and who to spend them with. Do whatever the hells you want, Lola. Okay?"

Her dark lips part into a big smile. "Don't tease me with a good time, Richard. I haven't chosen my schedule since I was a pup!" The smile falls a little, turning into more of a smirk. Her tear tracks are drying, and she doesn't look ready to cry anymore.

"What can I help with while I'm here?" Her question is soft, but there's steel in her tone.

It doesn't surprise me that she'd insist on helping. It's the shifter way. Family first.

I grin. "There's a welcome dinner for you at Bad Axe tonight, if you feel up to it."

"Of course," she says with a playful laugh. "I'm always down for a politics-free party."

My grin grows bigger. "Well…I've got a pack leadership meeting tomorrow afternoon if you miss the politics after a day without it." I slip my hands into my pockets and wink at her. "Technically, you're the highest-ranking wolf here. If you feel like dipping your claws into tiny haven leadership, the door's open."

She cocks her head to the side and purses her lips, seeming to consider it. Finally, she returns my smile. "Yeah. I'd like to know how other havens work. I have so little context outside of Santa Alaya. I don't even remember a time when Papá wasn't the king."

"He won the crown when you were so young," I murmur, remembering his challenge like it was yesterday.

Lola wraps both long arms around her torso. "I remember Mamá being gone and Papá being crowned, but it's all mashed together," she says, turning a soft smile up at me. "I can't remember what she looked like anymore."

Which gives me an idea. I'm pretty sure I have some pictures of Marco, Maria, and me from way back in the day. I make a mental note to find them so I can give them to Lola at some point in the near future. I won't promise her I have them unless I'm sure, though, so instead I push off the sofa and point to the kitchen.

"There's a manila envelope there on the countertop. It's got an Ever comm watch in it as well as our typical new-resident packet. Ever's got a short but rich history."

"Oh, I've heard all about it," Lola says with a ragged laugh. She crooks one brow upward. "Is that whole welcome packet Evenia-approved?"

That pulls the same ragged laugh from my throat, and I shrug noncommittally. "Evenia hasn't personally approved welcome packets in a long time. To be honest, I'm not even certain who's technically responsible for the Ever welcome packet. Just that it seems to magically be updated every time we gain a new resident."

"How curious," Lola deadpans, her grin huge.

I lean in close. "It's Catherine. Catherine does it." Our resident succubus is the only one who could make such a change without getting approval from Hearth HQ, the monster world's ruling body.

Lola leans in conspiratorially. "Obviously. Sometimes I think she does things just to mess with the Hearth."

We share a quick laugh when I nod, and then I jerk my head toward the door. "I'm gonna go make rounds, but get settled and rest. Comm Leo. Do whatever you want."

The smile she turns on me has Big Daddy preening behind my bones.

"Thank you, Richard," she murmurs.

Welcome, Princess, Big Daddy growls in my mind at the same time I voice the sentiment aloud.

Big Daddy is mercifully silent for the remainder of the afternoon as I make the usual rounds of Shifter Hollow with Connall by my side. Rounds are a chance for us to be available, to connect, to check in. We do it at least twice daily.

We pass guardian wolves on every other corner, stationed there to keep an eye on the Hollow during Lola's time here. I'm not worried about her safety in Ever, but I want to make sure she feels safe, given everything Marco shared.

"She's not what I expected," Connall says quietly as we round a bend in the street, treehouses soaring tall above us. Solidified surfaces are dappled green and brown to match the trees, glass walls interspersed between them lend the architecture a modern feel.

I keep an eye out for anything amiss. "How so?"

Connall shrugs. "Somehow, I was expecting a kid."

I grunt in agreement. I don't know why I had expected time to stop, but the person who stepped off that train earlier was not what I thought she'd be.

Connall's quiet for the next few minutes, until his comm watch pings. He stops in place and nudges me with his elbow. "I've got a session with Leighton's parents in ten minutes, so I'm going to head back. Need anything from me before I go?"

I shake my head, worry for our dead packmate's family filling my chest until it's hard to breathe. I've never lost anyone on my watch. Not the entire time I've been Pack Alpha. Hundreds and hundreds of haven-years.

"How are they?" I manage. "From your perspective, I mean."

Connall sighs. "As your Second, I'm worried they won't stay in Ever, which would be a loss for our pack since they're so beloved. As your pack therapist, I can tell you they're struggling with the shock of losing Leighton so suddenly, and the way he died."

He turns luminescent green eyes on me. "They probably seem like they're doing alright from the outside, but they're in fight-or-flight mode. They're focused on all the things that happen after a death, but as the pack returns to normal, it'll hit them like a ton of bricks, and they'll be faced even more directly with his loss. They'll really need you then."

I shove down intense heartache for my packmates. "What's the best way to help?"

Connall claps me on the shoulder. "Just be there. Keep asking how they're doing. Keep showing up. Sometimes, the worst part about loss is when everybody around you starts to move on, and you're still stuck with the grief. You don't understand how others can behave normally when you're mired in sadness. Keep showing up the way you have been. They might not always accept your help, but the fact that you asked is enough."

I nod. I check on them daily, but I understand what Connall means about those around you moving on. My parents died when I was a pup, and I'll never forget the only person who never stopped checking in with me after his pack took me in and adopted me as one of their own.

Marco.

Connall removes his hand from my shoulder, giving me a gentle, understanding smile. "If you don't need anything else, I'll head out, but I'll see you at the welcome dinner."

Big Daddy remains noticeably silent as I say goodbye to my Second and turn for the forest again.

Hours later, I push a beer across the worn wooden bar toward a chestnut-coated centaur. She smiles shyly at me, grabs the beer and turns into the crowd. Bad Axe is always slammed around dinnertime, but tonight feels especially chaotic, like centaurs and shifters and pegasi are packed in all the way to the rustic plank walls.

We've got a little welcome dinner starting for Lola, but there seem to be a whole lot more monsters in the bar than I actually had Connall notify. I suppose news of the princess's arrival traveled fast.

Big Daddy is quiet in my mind. He has been since Lola arrived. It's odd. I make a mental note to visit Arkan's father, Vikand, to see if he has any insight into my wolf's increasingly erratic behavior.

A hush rolls over the bar, the air electric with anticipation.

She's here.

Time slows as I turn to see Lola at the hostess stand. She's speaking to the hostess, her guitar slung at her back.

Does she take it everywhere? That brings visions of her giving impromptu concerts to my head. I've never seen her play, but I'd like to.

The hostess blushes and dips her head, but Lola's gracious and places her hand on the woman's elbow, saying something that has the other female beaming. They turn toward the room, and Lola's eyes flick up, catching mine across the space.

Her hair's pulled into a thick black bun, but all that hair out of the way only serves to show off the slim, elegant column of her neck. Crimson stud earrings wink from both delicate ears. Random black freckles dot her bronze skin. She's just as casually dressed as earlier—jeans filled out by athletic, long legs; a simple white tee, pert, round breasts visible. It's not an outfit meant to be flashy or sensual. It's comfortable, everyday wear.

She's a godsdamn knockout. There's no way to tamp down the natural beauty that radiates from her.

Flesh. Taste. Herrrrr.

Big Daddy's visceral reaction to the beauty standing at the front of the bar gets me moving. I blink, giving Lola a wave and what I fucking hope is a welcoming smile, and not the smile of a much older alpha whose wolf has turned into a horny teenager with anger issues.

Not anger,he growls into my mind. Need.

You can't need her,I snap. Too young. Too off-limits. Marco would fucking gut us. He sent her here to keep her safe.

You're wrong,he retorts. But just as I drum up a response about her being hundreds of haven-years younger than us, he disappears from the front of my consciousness, retreating from me but still there, still watching her. He's telling me he doesn't want to talk.

I close my eyes and run my hands through my hair, slicking back the salt-and-pepper strands that refuse to stay put no matter how much gel I throw in them.

Don't stare at Marco's daughter, I remind myself, hoping Big Daddy gets it through his thick skull how very off-limits she is. Being so at odds with him is new and weird, and I hate it. We were always in sync when he was my guiding star and more of a sentiment than anything.

But once he found his voice.

Goddess.

He doesn't deign to respond, so I stalk to the end of the bar and press through the crowd that's quickly gathered around Lola. I expect her to turn to me with a grateful look, but she dazzles them. She speaks to everyone, touching elbows here and there, admiring tattoos, even tickling a fat baby one of the new mothers brought in.

When the mother offers the baby up, and Lola takes the child and sits him on her hip, I go weak at the knees.

"Go, have a drink," Lola encourages the mother, squeezing her forearm. "I've got him for a while if you want."

Perfection, Big Daddy grumbles. She takes care like she should. Pack is hers right away. This is right. This is good. Sobre todo, familia.

I can't find it in me to disagree with him on that. The more senior you are in shifter society, the more time you spend caring for a bigger and bigger pack. Lola likely spends a huge majority of her day doing service work with her father—the entire haven of Santa Alaya is technically their family.

The crowd dissipates as she spins toward me with the burbling baby in her arms. She grins, stroking elegant, long fingers down the baby's chubby shoulder. "Richard, isn't he adorable? Look at these darling fat cheeks!"

A hint of accent makes her roll the R slightly.

My mouth goes dry.

Yeah, you want her. You're practically panting at how our name sounds coming from her.

Be quiet!I practically scream into my mind.

A darkly satisfied laugh is Big Daddy's only response.

Lola's smile falls, probably because I haven't answered her thoughtful compliment. "Alpha, are you alright?"

Damn. Bet that mouth would feel good on?—

"Totally fine," I grit out, forcing a smile. I reach over and tickle the baby under the neck, which gets me a giggle from him and Lola both.

"Goddess, he's cute," she murmurs before looking up and around the bar. "So this is your bar?"

I nod, trying to see it the way she does. Plank wooden walls are covered with ancient artwork of monster lumberjacks. The entire back half is the axe throwing section. Everything in here is dark and moody and smells like beer, so I grin back at her. "No stage, sorry. But if you wanna sing, you're welcome to hop up onto the bar."

She blushes, her color deepening over her cheeks and down her neck.

But when she leans in close conspiratorially, I lean to join her. "I will definitely hop on your bar, Richard."

Big Daddy howls loud as fuck in my mind as all the blood rushes to my head.

And my cock.

Goddess Alaya, help me. This is a problem. This is the biggest of fucking problems.