The last time I’d spoken to Sora, she’d talked about Devon’s potential and what he was meant to be—none of which had anything to do with who Devon was. As a purebred werewolf—a rarity in our world, since female Weres were few and far between—Devon was bigger, stronger, and more dominant than most, and Callum had groomed him almost as much as he’d shaped me.
But Devon would never be Shay, and while I thanked God for that fact, I wasn’t entirely certain that Sora wouldn’t have preferred it if he were.
“We should go,” Callum said, stepping between Sora and Devon—between Sora and me. “Shay will have felt our arrival, and I wouldn’t put it past him to send out a welcome party.”
I wouldn’t put anything past Shay.
I’ll take dysfunctional families for five thousand, Alex. Devon’s voice was bright and sardonic in my mind.
I swallowed a laugh. Seriously, Dev, are you okay?
Peachy, Dev replied. You?
Almost of their own volition, my shoulders pushed themselves backward. My chin went out, and as a sense of detached calm flooded my body, I told Devon exactly what he wanted to hear.
I was ready for this. If Shay wanted to dance, I’d dance.
CHAPTER EIGHT
SHAY OBVIOUSLY HADN’T BEEN LIVING AT THIS END of his territory for long. The smell of his pack should have been thick in the air. The trees, the grass, the very earth should have absorbed it like soot or smog, but instead, I could make out only the scents of the wolves present. Devon, whose nose was infinitely better than mine, didn’t seem to be able to smell much more than that, at least according to what I could pick up through the bond.
Consider me an open book. Dev must have caught me looking at him, because he sent the message straight from his mind to mine. Mi casa es su casa. Mi nose es su nose.
Dev was the only wolf in my pack who could choose to completely block his mind from me. We both knew that was a good indication that someday, he might leave the Cedar Ridge Pack to rule his own, but tonight he was telling me—in his own oh-so-Devon way—that there weren’t going to be any barriers. I was at a distinct disadvantage, with my human nose and my human ears, in the company of men who had senses ten times as keen.
Devon—strong, solid, sensational Devon—would be my eyes and my ears and my nose.
You’re the best, Dev.
If we hadn’t been quickly approaching a variety of wolves from other packs, he might have preened. Instead, the expression on his face stayed carefully neutral.
To our left, Callum and Sora held back, allowing Dev and me to enter first. There were fifteen, maybe twenty men spread out on the field in front of Shay’s house, none close enough to touch another. Some were smiling politely. Some were playing human. But the two closest to us didn’t bother to mask what they were: the weight to their presence, the unearthly grace in the way they moved, the hint of fang in what a regular human girl might have mistaken for a grin.
Those weren’t grins, and these men weren’t our friends.
They’re from the Ash Mountain Pack, Devon told me silently, and I let his senses flood my mind. These men smelled like wild grass and charcoal and dirt. To another person, it might have been a pleasant enough smell, but to Devon—and by extension, to me—it was tinged with something rotten, something sour.
Not Pack. My pack-sense and subconscious were equally sure of that fact. The Ash Mountain alpha and his second-in-command were foreign. They had no allegiance to me or mine. They were a threat.
“Hello, girl.” Of the two men, one looked vaguely familiar, and he was the one who spoke. The last time I’d seen him had been the day I’d become an alpha myself, but his tone left little doubt that he didn’t consider me his equal.
I schooled my features into an expression I’d seen on Callum’s face a hundred thousand times, one that gave away nothing to what lay underneath. I didn’t respond to the fact that the man had called me girl or the implicit little his sneer had tacked on to the front of that word. I didn’t avoid his gaze, but I didn’t force him into a staring contest, either.
If these men wanted to be condescending, I couldn’t stop them, but if they were looking for a response, they weren’t going to get one.
“Hello.” My lips quirked their way into a subtle smile. I may not have had Callum’s knack, but I knew these men. Not personally. Not by name. But I’d known plenty of men just like them, and it was a good bet that they had never, ever known a person like me.
“You remember Devon,” I said politely. Beside me, Devon inclined his head in greeting.
“Charmed, I’m sure,” he said, but I doubted anyone else caught the mischievous glint in his eye. The Ash Mountain alpha—and the others, spread out behind him—were too caught up assessing my best friend’s size, the way he’d filled out, the power that told them that someday—not too far in the future—he’d be a physical match for anyone here.
Suddenly, their collective gaze shifted from Devon and me to a place just over my left shoulder.
Callum.
He’d hung back, letting me make my own first impressions, letting the others see how Devon had grown, how effortlessly I commanded his loyalty, how I carried myself as their equal in every conceivable way—but from the moment Callum stepped out of the shadows, the other alphas only had eyes for him. Physically,
Callum wasn’t the most imposing man here, and he made no move to make himself seem bigger. He didn’t puff up his chest. He didn’t raise his chin. His face was relaxed. His arms hung loose by his side.
“Hello, William,” he said, greeting the Ash Mountain alpha and then letting his gaze roam out to the rest of them, standing there watching us.
Watching him.
“Callum,” the alpha who’d been taking measure of my mettle returned, his eyes narrowed, his chin jutting out.
“You’ll want to be careful of your new neighbors,” Callum said, meeting the other man’s eyes. “They enjoy hunting and don’t pay much mind to property lines.”
I realized, belatedly, that Callum was talking about human neighbors, and that the words were meant as a friendly warning about a future the Ash Mountain Pack would most likely wish to avoid.
“I’ll take that under advisement,” William replied, his even voice at odds with the tension suddenly visible in his neck.
Callum didn’t wait for a thank-you. He wasn’t expecting one, and he didn’t act like anything extraordinary had just passed between the two of them, because to Callum, it wasn’t extraordinary. Seeing the different ways the future could play out was as natural to him as breathing—but to everyone else present, Callum’s casual words were a reminder and a warning.