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Chapter 3

“What happened to you last night?” Zach shoulder checked Owen as they followed the trail to the lake.

Owen returned the favor and considered his answer. He’d known Zach a long time, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t secrets between them. Zach kept everything close and was friends with everyone.

“Nothing.” Owen knew he didn’t sound convincing. There were marks on his lip where her fangs had broken the skin in an intoxicating rush, though the wounds were healed and not obvious—he’d checked this morning.

Zach lifted an eyebrow.

While coming to the gathering was compulsory for people like Zach and Owen—sons of pack leaders—it was, at least, a nice holiday where he could be himself without worrying what humans would make of him if they discovered the truth. He wasn’t sure his fellow firefighters would think being a werewolf was an advantage. He planned to spend the day swimming and doing nothing. Maybe he could forget last night if he really tried, but he was sure Macey’s scent lingered on his skin even though he’d scrubbed.

Owen shook his head. He didn’t want to talk about Macey, but he couldn’t regret it either. She had a spark and a taste for rule breaking that he wanted in himself. That he’d need if he was going to put together a pack. If he failed, he would be outcast, and he’d never be able to attend another gathering. Could he wait another five years if he had to, or would his father have broken him by then? Or would he snap and get himself banished?

Probably the latter. For a moment it seemed no matter what he did he would fail.

Zach leaned a little closer. “There’s another run tonight for wolves who aren’t interested in mates and breeding…something you’d be interested in?”

He’d heard rumors of alternative runs. He wasn’t into guys and he hadn’t realized that Zach was either. Was that the secret Zach hid? As heir to the pack that wouldn’t be allowed.

Owen took a moment before responding. “I wish it were that simple.”

That Owen liked a vampire was definitely more complicated than liking men—at least for a second son. Though he was sure that his father would consider them equally bad.

Zach laughed. “Nothing is simple when there are expectations.”

“Will you be running tonight?”

“No.” Zach glanced away, but it was clear that he wanted to.

Owen didn’t press. He’d offer Zach a place in his pack, if he had one. But he doubted Zach would leave when he had standing and responsibilities. “How’s your father these days?”

Zach’s father wasn’t a staunch traditionalist like his, but Zach couldn’t take off and do his own thing. He was the future of the pack.

“Good, yours?”

“Same as usual. He’ll never bend.” Or come close to entertaining anything close to modern ideas. Owen swallowed. Of everyone that he knew, Zach could keep a secret, and was keeping secrets. He had to start somewhere and if Zach laughed, then maybe he should give up such dangerous dreams. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw the challenge in Macey’s eyes.

“I was thinking of…” the words dried on Owen’s tongue. Saying them out loud was so different to thinking them. He’d thought being at the gathering would be easy and finding support would come naturally. Maybe he wasn’t cut out to be a leader and he should shut up and stay in his pack.

Zach stopped walking. “Thinking of what?” He lowered his voice. “Leaving?”

Owen nodded. Was he that obvious?

“Starting something new.” He hated the uncertainty in his voice. The courage that had been so easy to find when imagining his pretty speeches had well and truly left. “I respect the traditions, but this isn’t the nineteenth century. Things have changed. We need to change. Some packs are moving forward instead of looking back and they’re doing really well.”

“They are. And there are bitter divides between traditionalists and those who are changing. My pack is caught in the middle. I work in the city like most of the younger members, but the older ones prefer the rural town. We’re splitting and it’s dangerous.” He scuffed a toe in the ground. “My father knows I’ll never be part of a breeding pair, but that’s something that I have agreed to keep quiet until my sister is old enough to take over and he can settle the split.”

“Your sister…that’s not traditional.” Zach’s sister was still a pup. And there was no guarantee she’d get fur instead of fangs. His freedom was years away. “What will you do?”

“I’ll be given notional control of the city under her.” Zach slid him a glance. “If I stay.”

“You’d be welcome. I will need a second.” Were they actually discussing this like it would happen? “My father will be furious when he learns.”

Zach sniffed. “If he knew you were playing with blood drinkers, he’d be rabid.”

Owen swore. Had the other wolves in the cabin smelled something on his skin? “I scrubbed.”

“Not well enough.” Zach grinned.