Page 31

Ethan

MY STOMACH ANNOUNCING its, as my mate says, “need to feed” offered an opportunity for all to take a break. Gertie happily hustled her way into the kitchen, almost taking Sutherland out with an exuberant sway of her hips as he re-entered the room, carrying in the cleaning supplies for Brian. Everyone else stood from the table and either took a few moments to stretch, used the facilities down the hall, or refueled themselves. The smell of coffee brewing had Billie’s nose in the air as she sniffed her way to the kitchen, where this morning’s leftover pastries, bagels, and muffins were being set out by Officer Mayland.

By the time we began to reconvene, Brian had cleaned up his mess, and Coco, looking frantic, had arrived with Dawson, who was eager to drop off his temporary charge and head back out to continue his patrol. Both Brain and Coco, who’ve been dealing with the reality of their daughter being sent to a mixed-subspecies secured mental health facility in Canada this week, were escorted to the reception room on the other side of the entryway to wait for Xander.

Jax and Xander gave Billie and me a brief synopsis of what had been discussed thus far. Due to the disturbing and disgraceful issues uncovered regarding our former leaders’ treatment of the Southwest Pack leaders’ mates, not much progress has been made in setting actionable plans to build relationships and allies. I was on my second roasted turkey (not deli meat but perfectly roasted turkey), cranberry sauce, and mayo sandwich, courtesy of Gertie, when the table filled once more.

After losing so many pack members these last couple of weeks, creating strong alliances and adding new pack members are critical to our long-term prosperity and, more importantly, the survival of our pack. The pack needs to grow if we’re to sustain the businesses and positions currently held under our pack within the shifter community, not to mention the financial stability and way of life our pack has become accustomed to.

Elder Allan has agreed that he and Elder Eleanor will keep communicating with the elders from the Southwest and West packs, while Elder Ralph will handle relations with the Northwest Pack elders. Apparently, the Northwest Pack is a little rougher, run similar to a motorcycle club, and Elder Allan thought Ralph would be a better fit.

I bobbed my head in agreement, recalling when I was a teenager. When we met for our shifting mentoring sessions, he’d often be in his garage, working on his Classic Harley Davidson Fat Boy. The walls were covered with old gas station and motorcycle memorabilia and framed pictures of him and his mates riding through the mountains and attending Laconia and Sturgis bike weeks during the seventies and eighties.

The mention of Elder Eleanor also had me thinking back to the work Jasper and I did with her earlier this evening. She may be older, but she’s sharp and swift. And her wolf? Her wolf flies through the woods as if she knows every ditch, loose pile of rubble, and protruding root, enabling her to pick the perfect path through the forest. An innate intellect of the lands. Our wolves wore dog backpacks, and we ran about a third of the perimeter, stopping at each boundary marking we came across. We then shifted into human form and used the liquid gold, copper, and metal alloys and other ingredients, one of which was Xander’s blood, so Gran or Jasper could draw a new symbol. Gran then chanted, with magic glowing from her eyes and hands as she held them over the symbols.

I watched in fascination as the symbols brightened to a blinding light and smoke spiraled out around the edges, dimming to a shimmering gold before finally becoming barely visible. I could feel the push of magic, the press of it against my skin, and then the ease of it, as if it seemed to recognize me, acknowledge me as pack. Jasper was proficient and sure in his movements and his duties, he and Gran sharing silent smiles and nods throughout. Both gazed at me with glittering eyes, appreciating my amazement at what they were doing. Upon seeing them together—seeing Jasper show emotion, warmth, excitement, and confidence in his abilities—it all became clear. He’s been chosen—chosen to walk the path of an elder. And I agree with that choice.

Popping the last bit of the sandwich in my mouth, I chew slowly, savoring the flavors and how when we’re hungry, everything just tastes better. The chewing has my mind doing the same with the thoughts on how to increase our pack numbers and build connections.

The clearing of a throat brings my attention to Jax, seated on the other side of Xander who has Billie on his lap. My lips tilt up on one side. Like he’d let her sit anywhere else after she lapped up his blood the way she did. Jax rubs his knuckles under his chin and blows out a breath. “What about the singles mixers?”

Xander’s mother sets down her cup of decaf coffee and tilts her head to side. “The singles mixers?”

“Yeah,” he replies, combing his fingers through his hair, then swooping an open palm through the air. “We’re looking to build relationships, and we need members. What about the mixed-subspecies singles mixers? I’m sure those are still happening. From what I’ve been told, they were generally hosted by wolf packs before they officially stopped socializing with other subspecies. Maybe we could have some wolves attend or, better yet, host one close by and invite the Southwest Pack and Northwest Pack. Perhaps that would provide an opening for us to meet.”

“I’m sure Annabelle would know of any on the schedule and the process,” Billie adds, her legs straddling one of Xander’s, her back reclined on his chest with her eyes on the ceiling. “And if they’re official or whatever, maybe we could ask for help from the Shifter High Council. If they had members attending or overseeing the event, it might put the Southwest Pack at ease, making them more willing to come here.”

“I know many wolves that,” Kubrick starts, then he, too, looks up at the ceiling and takes a deep, shuddering inhale. “Many wolves have felt more and more despondent with every wolf singles mixer they’ve attended. Attended and left unfulfilled, having not found their mate. A loss of hope and a sense of loneliness for those of us who have been attending for years and never found that... connection.” He huffs a sardonic chuckle and looks around the table with a devilish gleam in his blue eyes. “Don’t get me wrong, young wolves still find them highly entertaining. The whole”—he uses finger quotes— “maybe-we-need-to-do-a-little-more-to-test-the-connection attitude is still present. But after a decade or so of that”—he rolls a shoulder, and the edges of his mouth turn down— “it wears off, becomes less fun and more... sad.” Listening to Kubrick and working with him over these last several weeks, I’m reminded that until we truly spend time with a person, we don’t know who they are, and judgments based on appearance can be inaccurate. He’s got much more depth and mettle than his runway model looks would indicate.

“This could be a good avenue to go down,” Elder Allan, asserts sitting up taller in his seat. Gertie, who’s knitting in the black-and-white plaid rocker in the far corner, nods and quietly hums her agreement. Elder Allan continues, “It will be volunteer only. No one will be required to go, as it was with the wolf-only mixers.” Jax, Xander, and I grunt with our memories of being forced to attend the last few years and having no desire to—Xander especially. His father basically pimped him out, pushed him to keep trying and “be an alpha.” Without warning, I wonder about how many wolves he felt forced to sleep with. The unsettling idea has my guts twisting, my heart clenching, and my tongue flicking the sharp points of my canines, wanting to eradicate his former partners, not liking the idea of him being with anyone but us. “But...” Allan hesitates, and I return my focus to him. Pushing his glasses up, he continues, “If the location is more than an hour away or somewhere else completely, then it may be wise to limit the number of attendees. Things are still in transition, and leaving the pack lands open to attack may be unwise.”

“A lottery,” Billie mumbles, and then she excitedly giggles. “A love lottery.” She turns to Jax and slowly waggles her brows, a skill she’s determined to learn. He covers his broad smile with his hand, his deep blue-green eyes sparkling with delight. “Sounds like a Hallmark flick, doesn’t it, Jax?” she teases. Both Xander and I laugh, as she’s caught him watching the channel several times now, and found the Hallmark holiday movie schedule mysteriously bookmarked on her computer.

Jax looks to the ceiling and taps his chin. “We need to add in a bake-off or dance-off or some sort of love scavenger hunt where they have to work in pairs,” he muses. “Maybe brothers switch places, feeling a connection with the other’s teammate.”

“Right, of course,” Billie mockingly huffs and dramatically face-palms. “How did I not think of that?” She squirms in Xander’s lap and cranes her head back to look up at him. “I could talk with Annabelle, see what her thoughts are, and report back to the group—if you want, Alpha.” She winks.

His tongue darts out to lick his lower lip, about to respond, but before he can, Kubrick leans forward and chimes in, “I’d be more than happy to be on the planning committee to help organize the event.” As if suddenly aware of the eagerness he’s portraying, he pulls at the collar of his muted orange-and-cream windowpane dress shirt and amends, “I mean”—he gestures his stylus around the table and raises his dark-blond brows— “I have a lot of experience organizing social events, as does my assistant, Clinton. We’d more than up to the task.” And if numbers are limited, being on the committee would guarantee him and Clinton spots at the mixer.

Xander’s fingers, tucked under all of Billie’s layers, including her black-and-white flannel, tap her ribs while he gazes between her and Kubrick. He hitches a shoulder. “The assistance would be appreciated. You could also work with one of our elders to ensure we’re meeting proper protocol and”—he dips his mouth down to kiss the top of Billie’s head, which is a distraction from his hands creeping higher to cup her breasts— “I’m sure my mate can formally introduce you to Annabelle Swanson, as well as her mates.” Billie, trying to look unfazed by his wandering hands, keeps her eyes focused on the remaining stencil prints of fish on the back wall. Unfortunately those Irish genes make it hard for her skin to hide much. Xander, completely comfortable with casually groping her, sets his gaze on his mother and rests his chin on our mate’s head. “Luna, what are your thoughts? And would you care to help with the process?” I can’t help but notice how utterly chill he is with her in his lap, as if touching and caressing her settles him from within.

His mother startles slightly, but she covers the action by taking a sip of coffee. She swallows and then says, “It would be wise to solidify these alliances with the Southwest and Northwest packs in particular before the annual wolf pack conference next year, which will be hosted by the Midwest Pack. Anything we can do to show a united front and increase numbers will be of help.” Her eyes go distant, and she sighs. “It’s been decades since I attended a mixed-subspecies singles mixer, but I do remember a few things and will help where I can.” She turns to Bruce, and her brows crease. “It may be a good thing for Cortney to get involved in. I know she’s not planning on seeking readmittance to WMU until the fall semester and is only signed up for a few online courses. This may give her an activity, something positive to work on, and a way to ease back into being an active member of the pack.”

Bruce scrubs his knuckles over his beard and bobs his head. “I’ll ask her.” He tilts his head to the side. “Or if you approach her, ask her as the luna, that may be the incentive she needs.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Luna Ophelia assures, reaching her hand out and patting it over Bruce’s.

My brows dip at the exchange, but before I can investigate it, Xander looks at the clock and jerks a nod. “I think this is a good ending for tonight. Kubrick, DeLuca—please work together on sending the notes to everyone in attendance, including lists of responsibilities. My pack-mates and I have one more item to deal with tonight, and I’d like to be home before it gets too late.”

Both DeLuca and Kubrick give their assurances, while Luna Ophelia rises to her feet. Folding her arms over her chest, she asks, “Have you given any thought to moving onto pack lands, Alpha? It would ease travel concerns.”

Xander pushes up with Billie still affixed to his front and shakes his head. “We’re not moving from where we are at this time. We’re all still in school, and the location is ideal for our daily commute. I may look into using one of the rental properties or someplace where we could sleep when our nights here are long, or a house for the summer, but nothing permanent until after graduation.” Not giving her a chance to respond, he gazes at Jax and me, and we both rise. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we need to address the Callahans.” I turn and lead the way out of the room, with Billie behind me, Xander behind her, and Jax picking up the rear.