Page 12 of The Wolf and the Chimera (The Witch and the Cowboy #3)

Elle

As I changed into a pastel yellow sweater and jeans, I wondered how the werewolves had known my exact clothing size.

When the workout clothes and pajamas fit, I figured it was the result of luck.

Leggings stretched, and PJs could be oversized.

Jeans and suede boots, however, were harder to fit.

Despite the softness of the clothing, my skin crawled.

Have they been watching me?

I dabbed on some bronzer, mascara, and lipstick, all of which flattered my dark complexion. I had known the wolves were hunting me—they were the very beings who’d killed my parents—but I hadn’t realized just how much they knew about me.

Ryder tapped on the door.

“Ready to get this over with?” he asked.

With a sigh, I opened the door, and Ryder balked.

“What?” I asked.

He stared a second longer then shook himself.

“Nothing,” he grumbled. “You just, um, you look nice.”

I twisted a braid around my finger. “Uh, thanks.”

I couldn’t explain my sudden shyness. We had both seen each other naked, yet here we stood, acting like pre-teens. I steered the conversation back to my thoughts.

“It’s weird,” I said, “how well the clothes fit.”

Ryder’s gaze trailed over me, and I fought the urge to squirm. His lust quickly sharpened into worry .

“It is,” he agreed. He gestures at his button-down shirt and jeans. “I figured Dad had told mom my sizes since she sure as hell doesn’t keep up with them, but I don’t know how they knew yours…”

Even though we stood in our private room, I spoke in hushed tones. “I didn’t like what happened with Lyall either.”

Ryder ran a hand through his dark, tousled hair.

“I confirmed something he’s always preferred to ignore,” he said.

“And what’s that?” I asked.

“That Kieran didn’t inherit the dominance of a Sovereign,” he answered grimly.

I swallowed. “You did?”

“I don’t know.” Ryder didn’t sound convinced. “I’ve known for a while I inherited the Alpha gene, but when we were looking for the High Witch’s court, more and more of my power came to the surface. And when Lyall tried to get me to submit, my wolf didn’t want to.”

Alongside my heart, my mind raced.

“How are new Sovereigns appointed?” I asked.

The rest of the supernatural world whispered about the brutal power dynamics of the wolves, but those rumors had never been confirmed. Their hierarchies were one of their many guarded secrets.

“It depends,” Ryder replied. “Usually, dominance—the magic werewolves possess that determine where they fall in a pack—is passed down in families. Alphas usually produce Alphas. The last three Sovereigns have come from Lyall’s bloodline.

When it works like that, the transfer of leadership is easy.

A father steps down, and a son steps up. ”

“What happens when it’s not a son who replaces his father?” I asked quietly.

“Two options,” Ryder said. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. “The Sovereign steps down peacefully, or the Heir challenges him. The winner becomes a Leader.”

If the situation ever arose, we both knew which option Lyall would choose. My stomach churned.

“What happens to the loser?” I asked.

Ryder swallowed. “He dies.”

“We don’t know that you’re…” I couldn’t bring myself to say the next Sovereign. The implications of such a thing were far too heavy.

“No,” Ryder agreed, “we don’t. We only know that Kieran isn’t the next in line. No Sovereign would’ve been so easily dominated.”

“Even at such a young age?” I asked. "He's only seventeen."

Ryder nodded. “The dangerous part is Lyall now knows that his son isn’t his true Heir, like he’d prefer everyone to believe.”

“And he knows we know it too,” I added.

Ryder laughed without a trace of humor.

“So, who’s ready for family dinner?” he joked.

I took his hand in mine. “We can leave. I’ve been on the run my whole life. I can do it again.”

Ryder traced my hand with his thumb.

“Maybe we should,” he whispered. “Your powers haven’t made a reappearance and without them acting as a beacon, you’re pretty hard to track down.”

“We can’t leave now though,” I said. “It’ll have to be tonight when everyone’s asleep. If we don’t show up to dinner, they’ll know immediately we're gone.”

“Right,” Ryder reluctantly agreed. “Let’s get this over with.”

Someone knocked on the door, and we both startled. Kieran’s begrudging call was muffled by the door.

“I’ve been sent to escort you.”

Ryder and I exchanged a wide-eyed glance. My fears were reflected in his eyes.

How long has he been standing there? Did he hear us?

We should’ve passed notes to communicate. Conversations were too risky when living among werewolves with keen hearing.

“Look,” Kieran continued. We remained frozen. “I know you’re pissed at me, but I really don’t want to go back to Mom empty-handed, nor do I want to stand out here like I’m waiting for my date who’s not gonna show. Can we just go to dinner in peace?”

Nothing Kieran said implicated he had heard us. Though I didn’t know him well, I didn’t believe him to be calculated enough to completely hide his reaction to our plans.

“We’re coming!” I called cheerfully.

Ryder hesitated, and I shook my head. The worst thing we could do now would be to act suspicious. With a sigh, he led me to the door.

Kieran leaned against the doorway in a rumpled green shirt and jeans. When he realized we had come, he jolted back and ran a hand through his perfectly straight, russet hair.

“Hey,” he said nervously. “How’s your nose?”

Ryder stiffened, and I elbowed him.

“Fine,” I promised. “I’ve always been prone to nosebleeds. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Good,” Kieran said and winced. “Well, not good that you have to deal with that a lot, but, you know, good that it’s not serious.”

As he rambled, the last of the fear that squeezed my heart softened. There was no way Kieran was as conniving as Lyall.

“Are you going to escort us or what?” Ryder asked.

Kieran’s expression hardened, and he nodded curtly. I wished Ryder would try to be kind to him, even if it was only for our last evening here.

Regardless, the rest of the walk was made in silence, only broken by Kieran’s occasional greeting to a passing wolf. Like his mother, he was much friendlier with his pack than Lyall was. A part of me saddened at the thought that he would never get to lead.

When we made a left where we should have made a right to go to the dining hall, Ryder and I hesitated. Kieran sighed.

“Dad likes to have private family dinners most nights,” he explained. He gestured toward the door in front of us. “So, we usually eat in the Sovereign’s dining room.”

Ryder grunted. This was clearly another formality that separated his pack from Lyall’s.

Kieran opened the door, and we walked into a quaint but opulent room.

A mahogany table occupied most of the space, and the rich, brown wood paired nicely with the olive-green walls.

Platters of ham, turkey, roast, vegetables, and salad awaited us. The rich scents made my stomach growl.

A mural spanned across the arched ceiling. It depicted an array of wolves, small and large, old and young, in familiar, soft brush strokes and vibrant colors.

“Did you paint this?” I asked Kalli.

She sat at the seat beside the head of the table wearing a velvet blue top and holding a half-empty glass of white wine. She smiled sleepily.

“Yes,” she answered. “I’m not allowed—tradition prevents me from painting most of the white walls in this place, but because this is our private dining room, I personalized it a bit.”

I didn’t miss her initial statement.

I’m not allowed.

“It’s beautiful,” I said, though my mind turned over her words.

I considered the role of the Sovereign’s mate. Though wolves claimed their female counterparts to be their equals, it struck me that no one ever referred to Kalli as the Sovereign. The feminist in me recoiled at the fact that I had never considered it.

Regardless of titles, Lyall wasn’t disallowed from anything.

It didn’t feel right that Kalli didn’t receive the same treatment.

Her paintings hung on the walls of the estate, but none of them were permanent.

All of them could be easily taken down and replaced.

As I studied Ryder’s mother, pity filled my chest, despite how I judged her for her treatment of her eldest son.

No one should feel replaceable in their own home.

Behind me, the door swung open, and Lyall rushed into the room. Kalli took another gulp of wine.

“Sorry for being late,” Lyall said and planted a kiss on Kalli’s cheek, and she smiled. “Got caught up with a few things.”

Considering how happy Kalli was to see her mate, I wondered if I had blown the dynamics of their relationship out of proportion.

Lyall moved to the seat at the head of the table and gestured for us to sit. Ryder and I took the chairs opposite Kalli and Kieran. Lyall didn’t sit until after we had, and I wondered if it was yet another wolfish power play.

Food was passed along the table, and it reminded me of dinners with my parents. The only thing missing was the easy flow of conversation, which had usually involved a great deal of tomfoolery between me and Dad and reluctant smiles from Mom.

When wine was passed around, Ryder held the bottle to my glass.

“Want some?” he asked.

I shook my head, and Lyall guffawed.

“It’s imported from France,” he argued. “You simply must try it, Elle.”

“I’m its biggest fan,” Kalli agreed.

Though their insistence grated my nerves, I smiled politely at Ryder and shrugged. His amber eyes burned.

“She doesn’t have to drink it,” Kieran protested quietly.

“I’m not trying to get the girl drunk!” Lyall argued. “I’m just simply wishing to share the greatest luxury my home has to offer.”

“Really?” Ryder said. “ Wine is your greatest luxury?”

“Do they not teach you what hyperboles are in your pack?” Lyall shot back .

Before Ryder could say something foolish, I interjected.

“I’ll try it,” I said.