Page 29

Xander

“A LITTLE MENDING?” I repeat with a derisive scoff, staring at Bruce and Brian, who are seated at the other end of the table to the right of my mother, Elder Allan at her left. We’ve once again taken over the dining room at the pack police station, and though we originally met here out of convenience, it’s where I’m draw to. The pack house doesn’t have a private room large enough for us, not unless we want to use the basement that’s set up for day care with tiled floors, small laminate tables, plastic chairs, and a variety of crayons, pastes, and crafts that I’m sure would distract my mate. Not that she’s presently with us, but she should be joining shortly, after her first session with Gertie.

Ethan’s picking her up after he’s completed the boundary run with Jasper and my gran, learning about the symbols and how they’re maintained as well as altered. Though Ethan is well suited for logistics, interrogation, schematics, and strategy, when it comes to diplomacy, Jax is a better fit. And that’s what we’ve been discussing for the last hour: the building of relationships within our own pack and with the other three mixed-subspecies packs, which is why Brian is here tonight.

My father—the paranoid, insecure individual that he was—often had his betas swap duties, ensuring neither became highly proficient or made strong personal connections of their own. Consequently, they were always being reminded that though they were his bonded pack-mates, they were also interchangeable with each other. Both of them played the roles of envoys, representatives of the White Mountain Wolf Pack with other wolf packs.

“I’d say more than mending, yea,” Jax dryly amends from his seat at my left. Combing his fingers through his already-thoroughly-finger-swept hair, he pitches forward in his seat and places his forearms on the table. Tapping a finger on the hard wood, he repeats in a slightly mocking tone of voice what we’ve been told. “You, under our old alpha’s directive, along with the Midwest Pack, not only pulled completely out of long-standing business relationships with the Southwest and Northwest packs, but made sure other packs were too afraid to deal with them. And I’m assuming”—he shakes his head, and with wide eyes he waves his splayed fingers through the air in front of him— “because you seem to get rather tight-lipped when asked, that William Knight and those under him also disrespected the mates of Alpha Martinez and one of his betas, Beta Garcia of the Southwest Pack.”

Both Brian and Bruce look down at the table and shift uncomfortably in their seats, their arms hugging tighter around themselves. Eventually Brian looks up with stony-gray eyes. Holding his chin neutral, he replies in a steady voice, “Yes, that would be a correct assessment.”

“How believable were you when acting in my father’s name?” I query.

“Believable,” Bruce pushes out through gritted teeth. Finally raising his muddy-brown eyes to meet my icy ones, he implores, “We were very believable because we believed. Believed in what we were doing and what we stood for... stood against.”

A small crack forms in my frosty demeanor at hearing his admission, understanding how beliefs can make people do heinous things. Not that I approve of their actions, which we still haven’t received a straight answer on, or that I believe they’ve fully seen the error of their ways. I focus on the task at hand. Looking between Bruce and Brian, I then settle on Kubrick, who is seated next to Brian and across from DeLuca. “I need the financials for the businesses in question from when they were working with the Southwest and Northwest packs to the years since they stopped working with them.” Kubrick jots everything down on the yellow legal pad image on his touchscreen. “Send them to me and Ethan.” Bruce flinches. Sliding my gaze to him, I arch a brow. “Bad deals, I assume? I take it that we lost profits or saw some sort of decline. That the business agreements were more advantageous with these packs, but we did it anyway to hurt them—to push them to move away from the Divine?”

“It won’t give you the whole picture,” Brian gruffly interjects while shimmying up higher in his seat. He unfolds one arm and swipes it through the air in front of him. “We got other deals, other contracts with the Midwest and Southeast Packs, because of our joint stance with them. Which helped cover the financial cost of working with them over the Southwest Pack in particular.”

“Why them in particular?” I query.

Brian and Bruce share a confused look as if they never asked the question before. “Let me rephrase,” I state, and they both turn their gazes to me. “What resources or products were the Southwest providing that the Midwest could also provide?”

“Copper, gold, and other construction materials,” Bruce informs, scratching his fingers through his thickening more-salt-than-pepper beard. “Soybeans and some”—he clears his throat— “livestock feed as well. The copper for building houses, drinking water lines, and construction; the gold for the boundary symbols; and the soybean for, um...” His eyelids shutter. “For Decoction and their laboratory specimen.”

The weight and complexity of everything, how messed up and interwoven our pack is with the Midwest Pack and this fucking lab, Decoction, falls on top of me like a baby grand piano, and I bend partway over the table, cradling my forehead in my hand. Jax slips his foot closer, rubbing his lower leg against mine in support. Dropping my free hand to rest on his thigh I take a deep inhale.

A small cough brings my attention to Elder Allan gazing at me with both sympathy and determination in his hazel eyes, both magnified by his round spectacles. He raises a finger, and I give him a half nod, my head still heavy in my hand. He returns the gesture in full and brings his gaze to Kubrick. “I’m sure Ken will be able to provide a detailed summary of the business transactions over the years—cost analyses, contracts, and such.”

Ken dips his chin, the reflected light from the chandelier making his gelled blond hair shine like brass. “Certainly. It will take a day or two, but my associates and I will get it compiled.”

Allan’s thin lips spread into an appreciative smile. “Just as I thought.” I don’t fail to notice the tint of pink on Kubrick’s cheeks from the show of confidence from our elder. Elder Allan returns his attention to me. “We came here tonight to speak on diplomacy, and I advise we stay on that topic, especially since the business side needs more information before we can determine our best approach.” He sits up taller in his seat and rolls his narrow shoulders back, seeming to grow in stature filling out his dark-green fisherman’s sweater. Leaning his forearms on the table, he angles himself around my mother to face Brian and Bruce, and demands, “You must share how Esmeralda Martinez and Maria Garcia were treated by our former alpha, yourselves, and anyone else under his command or in conjunction with him. We cannot have our alpha going into these meetings half-blind, and we need to know how much”—he shakes his head, tsking— “ mending needs to happen.”

Billie

Gertie has decided to join Ethan and me on our trip to the pack station. Elder Allan is there, and Gertie knew he hadn’t eaten since this morning and is determined to keep him well-fed. When I first picked her to be my mentor, it was a best-of-the-choices-I-had type of scenario. I will admit I had some reservations. Not with her as a person—her joyous, bubbly energy and playfulness were what attracted me. It was more her aptitude to let her mouth run that I was concerned about, especially considering how much information I’m expected to learn in all areas, not just those that are pack related, and how little time it seems I have to get a handle on everything. The very idea that my ignorance or inability to comprehend what I’m being taught, in all areas, could lead to death—like almost dying by internal fire, for example. Well, it’s a strong motivator to study and pay attention.

Thankfully I had nothing to worry about. Apparently, she’s one of the teachers for the young pack members and also taught for years at a few of the local elementary schools, both with the pack and with humans, when she was younger.

When I arrived, she led me to a small classroom in the back of their log cabin home. Once the door was closed and she was at the chalkboard—yes, she has a chalkboard and chalk—she put on her teacher’s hat, and we got to work. By the end of the ninety-minute session, not only did I learn about some general shifter stuff that had me slacked-jawed, but I felt like I had a firm handle on pack structure and roles. We enthusiastically devised ways for me to memorize certain concepts, using acronyms, rhymes, and equations.

My cheeks were also a little flushed when we exited the room since the last segment we went over was the expected behaviors of true-mates in wolf packs and how certain roles generally require more from their true-mates. Upon hearing this, Little Fox produced several shades of lipstick. She chose one labeled Promiscuous Pink and added a pink shimmer to her black lips. Then she went further by applying mascara. She fluttered her long lashes and gave her reflection a pouty air kiss in the mirror, clearly ready to put on a show.

I internally groaned at the idea of primping myself. Never been much into primping. With the exception of my panties and bras, I dress mostly for comfort and ease of movement. Unfortunately, as of late, those garment preferences seem to be stronger than ever. I don’t know if it’s because I’m in the mountains as opposed to the city or if it’s the increased stress paired with lack of sleep, but my temperature seems to be out of whack. At times, teeth-chattering cold causing me to dress in layers and wear anything with the word insulated on it.

Knowing one of the stipulations for becoming an official member of the pack is displaying the characteristics of a wolf-shifter, my awkwardness around the expectations of true-mates is pushed aside. This is something I need to do. I have to embrace wolf-shifter culture, especially with my position in the pack. Plus, if I fail, it would most likely be my shifter form that gets the blame, and I’m sure you know how inaccurate that’d be.

So when I meet Ethan at the door to Gertie’s house, I slip an arm around his back, which is warm, really warm, and clamp a hand on his nape, drawing his lips down to mine. Ethan startles for a moment, his dark eyes widening before a glimmer takes them over and a light laugh passes through his lips, parting them so his tongue can press against my seam. I open for him, and his large hands clasp my sides, urging my willing body closer. We kiss and taste and feel each other, slowly dragging our lips while we pull away. Feeling damn impressed with myself, I hum and toss a self-satisfied smile over my shoulder at Gertie.

Gertie, holding a Tupperware container of roasted chicken and sides in one hand, gives my shoulder a pat with the other. “I see we have room for improvement regarding to PDA. Always fun when there’s space to work with, I say!” She chimes, swaying her way past us, basically erasing my smile with the rolling of her hips and the swishing of her dark-purple velvet skirt.

Ethan’s body stiffens, and he looks down at me with knitted brows. I mumble, “Don’t ask,” while dropping my defeated head to his chest. His thick fleece is like an electric blanket, his skin still hot and sweaty from what he and Jasper had been doing with the boundary, and I eagerly snuggle deeper into him.

“I won’t,” he assures, turning me around in his arms and ushering me to the truck. “I’ll just let you keep improving.”

I’ve closed the door and am about to put on my seat belt when I hear Ethan clear his throat. I glance over at him with furrowed brows. Flipping the console up, he pats the seat next to him and arches a brow at me. The snarky attitude has me scowling at him and grumbling quietly, while still scooting over.

“Oh, you have such helpful tutors, I see! Just wonderful!” Gertie praises with several claps of her hands.

“Education is so important,” Ethan affirms, and yes, I mockingly mouth his words. Paying me no mind, he twists around in his seat and reverses us out of the long tree-lined driveway that offers privacy from the street. Once he has us on the road, he hooks his arm around my shoulders and tugs me in closer. I let my head fall to the crook of his chest and rest my hand on his thigh. He kisses the top of my head, and I let out a sigh, thinking that this is enough affection, we’re cuddled up pretty close.

However, it looks like that assumption was incorrect, and apparently Gertie takes any opportunity to teach when presented with it. “Now would be a perfect time for you to scent mark him a little,” she gleefully suggests from the back seat. My head snaps up, and my face heats.

“Or, oh!” she exclaims with more clapping. “Even better, bring a little arousal out of him.” My eyes widen in a What now ? sort of way. She just prattles on: “Let his scent perfume the small space, showing the effect you have on him. Ethan...” She hums a light laugh, and he looks at her reflection in the rearview mirror. “You could also demonstrate. With her being a duchessa and you being a beta bonded to the alpha, who initiates and who submits is a little mixed. But I do believe you marking or arousing her would be well within proper protocol in the presence of an elder’s mate.”

“Well, you do know how seriously I take my studies and my position, don’t you, love,” Ethan quips before sliding his arm around my waist and slipping his hand under the waistband of my insulated yoga pants. And not just under my pants or in the back, for that matter. Nope. His hand is brazenly cupping my mound. Just like that, Ethan’s touching my bare pussy because one of the elders’ mates indicated it was within protocol.

“What the—” I growl, which ends with a whimpering, “Fuuuuck,” when his fingers begin to circle and stroke my clit. “Well aware of the importance of education,” I reply while sucking down a moan through gritted teeth. Trailing my fingers up the inseam of his joggers and over his bulge, I slip my hand under the waistband and down to cup his hardening length through his boxer briefs, which are still hot and damp from his earlier exertion.

His scent steams out like a humidifier, and my nostrils tingle with a desire to inhale more. Ethan groans, and I pull his length out through the front opening, my hand grasping what I can. His shaft hardens and twitches in my hand, and he lowly curses when he has to take a turn faster than needed. A tinkling laugh passes through my lips, and I stretch out, placing several triumphant kisses along the underside of his jaw.

He huffs a moan and returns my affection by two, meaning him driving two fingers into me. I gasp and clench my thighs together to limit his movement while giving his cock a squeeze. In response, he plunges those fingers deeper inside me, and my pussy floods just as precum dribbles around his girth and over the back of my hand.

“Fabulous!” Gertie cheers in between deep inhales. “Oh!” She sniffs and trills. “I can scent your efforts in the air! Well done, Duchessa and Beta! Well done indeed! Just in time too!” she asserts as Ethan pulls the truck into an open spot in front of the garage to the side of the station house. She pops her head up right next to mine, her glowing brown eyes glancing down at our laps and then back up. With an approving smile, she says, “Now make sure to put a little behind your ears like perfume!” Then she pulls back and gets her things together while still inhaling and gushing. “So responsive to each other! The scent will linger in here and with you! Very well done, my true-mates!” Opening her door, she calls over her shoulder. “Come! Come! I want you to share this accomplishment with your pack-mates. They’ll be most pleased.” Her voice takes on a breathiness. “As will my dear Allan with my teaching.” I turn my head around to peer at her over my shoulder, noting her rosy cheeks and dilated pupils. Leaning forward, she whispers, “And I do like it when he’s pleased with me.” Then she tosses me a wink before hopping out of the truck.

I’m stunned still. Totally paralyzed. Ethan pulls his fingers out from inside me and hums while brushing my juices behind his ears. He then removes my hand from around him and does the same to me with his. I blush the hardest or deepest or whatever-est I’ve ever blushed in my life. I feel the heat from my head to my toes. A full-body blush. “We just...” I croak. “In front of...” I splutter.

“Your mentor, at her instruction and approval,” he finishes with way too much smugness in his voice. “Come, mate, let’s get in there,” he says with a kiss on my head.