Page 30

Billie

MY FACE IS still pink when Ethan and I, reeking of our arousal, step into the entryway of the pack station. Gertie smiles with pride from ear to ear, and Sutherland swings his wide eyes to us, his posture rigid with his hand on the gun at his hip. The three of us startle to a stop, and that’s when the sounds of growls, low, clipped voices, and terse whispers reach my ears from the other side of the closed pocket doors Sutherland is standing guard at.

Ethan slips his hand from mine and places it securely around my nape, his steps silent as he approaches the doors in a few long strides, my loosely laced sneakered feet shuffling to keep up. With his dark eyes on Sutherland, he jerks his head to the side, indicating where he wants him to move. Sutherland gasps, as his wide eyes swing between Ethan and me with great interest and blushing cheeks. Yeah, he smells our arousal. He quickly recovers with a shake of his head, hastily dipping his chin and gliding out of the way. Gertie scampers to keep up with us, her boisterous excitement morphing into anxious worry, her fingertips frantically tapping the lid of the Tupperware container.

Ethan erects his spine, his glowing eyes staring at the doors like he’s seeing through them. He half steps in front of me before opening the door on the left, leaving me partially protected by the door on the right. Not liking him treating me like a fragile mate that needs protecting, I push the door to the side and step up with him. His fingers around my neck tighten, and I roll my shoulders back in stubborn rebuttal.

Fully at Ethan’s side and in the room, I take in the faces of those I can see—which is everyone apart from Luna Ophelia, but her bowed head and rounded shoulders are enough of an indication that whatever they’ve been discussing is hitting her, not with anger but with something heavier. Regret, sorrow, or disgust, perhaps.

Looking at DeLuca and Kubrick, their heads are down, focused on their screens, as they type and scribble away. Elder Allan sits facing the table and not more than five feet from us. He numbly shakes his head while several tears press out from his tightly shuttered eyes to slowly roll down his pale cheeks. Gertie squeezes by Ethan and kneels down at Allan’s side between him and Luna Ophelia. Taking his hands in hers, she lays her head on his thigh. He releases her hands to wrap his arms around her shoulders, her thick, curly dark hair in a voluminous bun big enough for him to bury his head in. The doors behind us quietly slide closed.

Lifting my gaze to the other head of the table, Xander is on his feet, his hands spread and firmly pressed against the wooden tabletop. His glowing eyes are locked on Brian and Bruce, and his nostrils flare with an inhale that sends shudders through his tense upper body. Jax is at his side with a hand on Xander’s shoulder, his mouth at his alpha’s ear, quietly whispering to him, his body partially blocking Xander’s path to Bruce and Brian.

Following their gaze, I check out the former best buds. Bruce is huddled in on himself, his arms wrapped around his body, which seems to be convulsing with sobs while Brian’s face is about to turn purple with rage, veins popping out of his temples, sweat catching in his eyebrows and dripping off the end of his nose. Even his black long-sleeve shirt is showing circles of perspiration spreading out from under his arms. His gray eyes flicker with his shifter power, like a candle in the wind... and not like in the Elton John song.

“They’ll have the right to ask for retribution,” Xander snaps. “Are your mates aware of the cost they could be asked to pay because of your actions?” He sets his uncompromising gaze on his mother, and he sucks in a harsh breath before demanding, “What did you know of this, Luna? How aware were you?”

Hearing the sourness in his voice as if he can taste the vileness of whatever has been uncovered and wants to spit it out, my mouth dries, and my stomach clenches. Letting my instincts guide me, I brush my hand against Ethan’s leg and make my way to Xander. Ethan slides his hand from my nape to the small of my back, silently supporting and following. Weaving through the two open chairs on Xander’s right, I come to stand next to my alpha. Ethan forgoes sitting as well. Instead, he takes on his role of beta, standing just behind and to the side of Xander and me, projecting intimidation and strength in his erect spine yet relaxed shoulders, eyes methodically scanning the room.

Placing my palm on Xander’s tension-filled back, I rest my cheek on his hard shoulder. Showing my blind faith in him, in his ability to protect me, while also immersing myself in him, I purposefully close my eyes. Rubbing my cheek and my hand along his shoulder and back, I take several deep breaths until his scent thickens and fills each inhale. I let myself get drowned in him, let my entire universe taper down to us, and I feel myself get drawn in deeper, uncovering hidden messages in his scent that I never noticed before.

My stomach rumbles, my mouth wets, and my scalp tingles with a need to consume, like I’ve only pulled back the lid of his emotions, his state of mind. Opening my mouth, I softly latch onto his shoulder and suck down more of him, moaning as I do. My cheeks flame with his heat, his anger, and his need.

Trailing my hand down his back, I slip it under the hem of his soft sweater, and my heart stutters, feeling the near-scalding sweat rolling down his spine. I think of snow and wind, and I feel a light breeze swirl in my chest. It spreads, sending goosebumps down my arm, cooling the hand I have on him. I rub it up and down his back, the chilly energy feeling like an ointment, like Icy Hot without the hot, that I’m spreading over his fevered flesh. Xander’s body shudders, and goosebumps bloom over his skin. My mouth hasn’t moved from his shoulder, holding on like a limpet to a rock, while my hips sway into his, and my other hand kneads its way down his arm.

His warm breath fluffs up my hair as he nuzzles his face into the top of my head. Taking a long pull of my scent, his ribs press into my hand, and on the exhale his body decompresses. Releasing my mouth from him and opening my eyes, I dreamily gaze around, noticing that everyone in my view, with the exception of his mother, is looking at us with mixed expressions, mostly intrigue.

“Luna,” I say in a smooth, cool voice like the caress of my hand on Xander’s back. “I believe our alpha asked you a question.”

She lifts her head up and gazes at us through wary brown eyes. Whatever they’ve been talking about has slivers of vulnerability breaking through her normally reserved persona. Xander readjusts to seated while pulling me down with him. My legs straddle one of his, and my head rests on his shoulder. I feel so chilled out in his arms, in our connection, I not only meet his mother’s cautious gaze but take it over, keeping her with me. I give her an encouraging lift of my chin, an urging for her to share, encouragement that she can do this, that she’s not alone.

Her red-painted lips that were trembling with nerves tick up on one side, and she unfurls her shoulders from their rounded position. Flattening down one of the lapels of her dark-blue blazer, she raises her chin and meets Xander’s awaiting gaze. “I knew some,” she admits, and I watch her fight the impulse to not flinch, to not look away. “More than some. Not the full extent or in the detail shared with us tonight, but enough.” Her eyes slide to Brian and Bruce and then back to Xander. She expels a congested breath. “Enough to know that there was more, and enough that I didn’t want to know more. I...” Her brows knit, and she nibbles on the inside of her lower lip. “I had questioned his motives, the reasons for what they were doing, and gave my opposing opinion.” Her shaky hand pats down her short hair where no strays need patting down, and this time she does flinch. “And I learned it’s best not to give my opinions on such matters unless they are worth the repercussions.” Xander bows his head in understanding, tucking his mouth against my neck, and most of us at the table close our eyes at her statement.

“It only happened a few times... one time really,” Brian grouses, and we all snap our attention to him. The wooden chair creaks under his weight as he rocks from side to side in agitation. He shrugs a shoulder. “And we never took it too far with Martinez’s mate.” His gray eyes grow dark, and he lewdly licks his lips. “We could’ve taken it further with Garcia’s. We had the opportunity... the time. Some lines we didn’t cross. It was more of a humiliation than anything. Something we could bring up when we saw them, something we could remind them of.” Yeah, he definitely doesn’t regret anything. In fact, it seems like he enjoyed it and wished he’d done more.

I bury my nose into the soft fabric of Xander’s cashmere—it’s got to be cashmere—sweater in an effort to suffocate the contemptuous scoff scaling up my throat. “Greet Jax, mate,” Xander tightly whispers in my ear while pressing us up to standing and gently guiding me over to Jax, who remained standing. He tucks my back to his chest and drapes his arms around my front. Pulling on his arms, I press off my tiptoes and crane my head back so I can trail a mix of wet kisses and tiny nips along the underside of his jawline. His hold on me tightens, and a low murr rumbles from his chest before we bring our attention back to the discussion.

Xander slowly erects to his full height, lengthening each vertebra one at a time, dragging Brian’s gaze upward with his glaring eyes. “Sutherland,” he calls out in his alpha voice, the demand in the word being felt not just heard.

Sutherland slides one side of the double doors open and stands at attention, facing Xander, his hands clasped low in front of him. “Yes, Alpha.”

“Have Coco Callahan brought to the station immediately,” Xander flatly orders, and Sutherland dutifully replies, “Yes, Alpha,” walkie-talkie already in hand by the time he slides the door closed.

“What!” Brian roars, bolting up to standing and knocking his chair backward. It crashes into the wall behind him, causing one of the six framed sketches of freshwater fish to dislodge, the glass shattering as it hits the hardwood floor. His chest heaves, and his gray eyes glow silver as they taper in on Xander. He throws an arm through the air and screeches “What does she—”

And that’s as far as he gets. Xander’s eyes glow brighter, and the pressure around him drops, pulling on the surrounding energy like the updraft of a tornado. The air ripples as he raises his arm and outstretched hand in Brian’s direction. He holds it there, the veins on the back of his hand bulging, and the hairs on his wrist seem to blow in the wind of an unseen force. Then it all gets sucked in as he clenches his hand into a fist. Brian’s mouth snaps shut, his eyes bulge, and the light within them gets snuffed out.

“Enough,” Xander orders. “You’re my pack member, Brian. Your wolf submitted to me. Don’t forget what that means, what access that granted me. Don’t think that because I show empathy and a willingness to listen, I won’t hold you down to the ground when needed. I won’t allow disrespect, and I won’t put up with your tantrums.”

Brian stays silent, but his chest continues to heave, and his eyes may not be glowing, but they’re blazing with fury. Through the bond, I can feel the power, the tether between Xander and Brian, between their wolves, and I watch in fascination as Xander turns his raised fist counterclockwise. That’s all he does, and Brian gasps while clutching at his chest like that turn of Xander’s wrist twisted his heart. Then as if there is an actual rope connecting them, Xander gives it a tug, yanking his arm back. Brian stumbles forward, his arms flapping around for balance. But his reaction isn’t quick enough to stop his forehead from hitting the edge of the table before tumbling to his knees. Xander holds his position, holds his connection, his power, and then casually calls out, “Sutherland, we need a broom, dustpan, and trash barrel in here.”

“Yes, Alpha,” Sutherland hollers through the closed double doors. His lips must be moving a mile a minute as he rapidly speaks to the person on the other end of the comm while his boots thump through the station on his way to procure what his alpha needs.

Xander’s voice tightens as he addresses Brian. “You do not speak. You will clean up your mess and stay on the floor like the spoiled pup you are. Then you will learn your lesson, and your mate will be the stick that leaves the imprint.”

Brian clamps his lips around his teeth in refusal, and Xander’s body becomes more rigid, tightening his fist, tightening his hold on his disobedient pack member. Brian bows his bleeding head and weakly replies, “Yes, Alpha.”

Xander exhales a harsh breath through his nose and then drops his arm. His fingers slowly uncurl, and I see spots of red on his palm. Reaching for his hand, I spread his fingers out, showing the blood trickling out of three small half-moon cuts. Bringing his hand to my mouth, I tilt my face up to look at my alpha while leisurely dragging my tongue over his bloody palm, licking up his wounds.

Xander’s lips part, and his pupils dilate, watching me with utter fascination. And heat... there’s definitely some heat. Warmth blooms in my chest, and Little Fox releases an appreciative purr, her painted lips smacking, tasting his blood, his essence. Ethan leans over and whispers in his ear, “She’s a fast learner.”

“So it would seem,” Xander murmurs. Jax’s hands slip under my layers to knead my sides, and Xander repeats, “So it would seem.”

At that moment, Ethan’s stomach rumbles long and loud. Really loud. Xander peels his eyes from me to look at his beta, specifically his stomach hidden under the black fleece. Xander takes several small inhales, and his lips purse. Trailing his gaze up to Ethan’s face, he raises his brows in question.

Ethan rubs a hand over his short-shaved head that’s still a little damp with sweat. He falters and clears his throat. “Elder Eleanor’s wolf is fit... very fit.”

“Ran you ragged, didn’t she?” Elder Allan lowly chuckles while shaking his head. He jerks his chin to the Tupperware container Gertie placed on the floor when she dropped down next to him. “Is there enough to share, my sweet G?”

Gertie’s cheeks, and oh my—she must like that pet name since her ears redden along with her cheeks. “If the station has some bread to offer, then I can make it work, but you need to eat, my mate,” she replies.

“I will, I will,” Allan assures her, brushing a hand over her fluffy bun and kissing her forehead. “If you could help out our pack beta, it would be much appreciated.”

“It would?” She teases with a flutter of her lashes.

“Oh yes, my sweet G... it would.” He winks, and she giggles before speedily taking off into the kitchen.