Page 5 of Clashing With The Grumpy Wolf

My cell phone's ringtone cuts through the morning quiet like a scalpel. The screen pulses with a familiar name as I consider letting it go to voicemail. It's six thirty in the morning. She could have at least waited until eight before ruining my day.

I take a deep breath of coffee-scented air and answer anyway.

"Morning, Mother."

"Adrian, darling." Her voice carries that distinct high-pitched note that I've come to dread, the high-pitched note that means she's prepared for an argument. “Good morning to you as well.”

For fuck’s sake. It’s too early and I’m too goddamned tired for this. But I know her well enough to understand I have no choice. If Meredith Wolfsbane wants to argue with someone, no one is going to stop her.

She’s the alpha's mate, after all.

“I sent you an email last night,” Meredith continues without losing a beat. “Have you had a chance to review it yet?”

I grip my department mug tighter, staring out the window at the fog rolling in from the bay. The town below my office is just beginning to wake, the baker unlocking his door, fishing boats returning with the morning catch.

"It's six thirty, Mother. I've been reviewing security reports since five. Between the strawberry festival and the Draak wedding, I’m swamped."

"Always the dedicated sheriff." Her tone softens momentarily before sharpening again. "Well, if you have a chance to look it over, theemail contains profiles of several eligible females from respected packs along the Eastern Seaboard. All would make suitable mates for you."

My jaw tightens, and I feel my wolf stirring beneath my skin, bristling with annoyance.

"I don't need a dating service."

"What you need is a mate, Adrian. Your father is looking forward to retirement, and you cannot fully ascend as alpha without a mate. It's tradition."

"I'm aware of pack tradition." I shuffle papers on my desk more aggressively than necessary. "I don't need reminding."

"Then perhaps you need motivation." Her voice takes on that infuriatingly reasonable tone she uses when she thinks she's being clever. "I understand there's a dragon wedding happening at Windfall Manor in less than two weeks. Several prominent werewolf families will be attending. It would be the perfect opportunity for you to—"

"I'll be overseeing the security," I cut in. "Not socializing."

"One can do both, darling. The Blackwood alpha's daughter will be there. And the Silverclaws are sending their twins. I’ve been told the Silverclaws in particular are looking for mates."

My wolf paces restlessly under my skin as the familiar pressure builds. I'm thirty-six years old, for God's sake. I won’t allow pack politics to rule over my personal life. Not even if it means upsetting the tradition when I finally take over my father’s place as alpha. Not that my mother would ever understand that.

"I need to go. I have work to do."

“Of course, dear. Just look at the profiles.”She pauses, then adds, “Do it for me.”

She ends the call before I can refuse again. I set my phone down with more force than intended and run a hand through my hair. The sun creeps higher over the harbor, painting Saltford Bay in watercolor oranges and pinks. The old Victorian buildings along Main Street catch the light just so, their windows flaring gold. On days like this, my territory's beauty almost balances the weight of protecting it.

Almost.

I take several deep breaths, pulling air through my nose and letting it fill my lungs completely before releasing it. The coffee cools in my mug as I center myself, reclaiming control from the irritation my mother so effortlessly stirs.

My enhanced hearing picks up familiar footsteps in the hallway, the steady rhythm of Deputy Chemko's gait, along with the paper bag rustling in his grip. The scent of sugar and butter reaches me before his knock does.

"Come in."

Bobby Chemko pushes through the door with his shoulder, juggling a coffee cup and two grease-spotted paper bags. He's shorter than me but solidly built, with short-cropped black hair, watchful brown eyes, and an easy smile that puts witnesses at ease. He’s also a member of the pack, like most of my deputies.

"Boss, you're making the rest of us look bad." He tosses a bear claw wrapped in waxed paper onto my desk. It lands with a soft thud next to my stack of reports. "Sun's barely up and you're already buried in paperwork."

"Someone has to be." I unwrap the pastry, my stomach suddenly growling, the scent of cinnamon and sugar momentarily displacing my lingering irritation. "You're early yourself."

"Brought the revised security assignments for the dragon wedding." He sets down his coffee next to mine. "Figured we should finalize everything before your meeting with the inspector from the fire marshal's office."

I pull the map of the sprawling estate of Windfall Manor from the stack at my elbow and spread it across the desk, securing the corners with my mug and a stapler. The lines of the map overlay with my red markings for security positions and patrol routes.