Page 33

Alessandro

“ARE YOU SURE you’re not too tired, la mia stella ?” I inquire, squatting down in front of her, lightly taking her fingers into my hands and letting my thumbs rub the backs of her knuckles. Since that morning when we rushed over here and she informed us of what she did and how close—how very close—she and her fox came to death, I’ve lost all hesitancy when it comes to touching her. I want to touch her, to ensure that she is alive and with me.

I lost her for close to fifteen years—years during which many believed she was dead. Yet I held on to hope, a soul-deep belief that though we had never met, I would’ve known if she’d died. A belief I felt confident, if not smug, in when her name appeared on the true-mate registry a few months ago. Only then to feel the painful prick of the pin popping that overinflated arrogance when I received Ethan’s call from Castle Island. I was so disconnected from her that I was deeply asleep when he called. He informed me she was being brutally attacked, that she was going to die. I hadn’t felt anything. Not once did I stir in my slumber.

They had informed the twins, Annabelle, and me of their plans for dealing with the stragglers, the opposers within the pack, this past weekend. Though they hoped all would run smoothly, we could sense their unease and the building tension, their readiness if things didn’t go as planned. Even knowing it was pack business; we still offered our support and received the answer we expected. However disappointing and frustrating it was, we understood. We’ve been working with several members of Xander’s pack, far more than any non-wolf-shifters in recent decades, and we all knew pushing for more involvement would not only seem like overstepping but could also weaken Xander’s image as an alpha. He and his wolf needed to do this, with his betas and true-mate. He had to be the lead, the one to stand on his principles and shed blood to solidify his strength in those convictions.

As reasonable as it was, it still wasn’t easy to sit back and wait. Unlike when they visited Wilhelmina’s famiglia , we knew they could be in danger, and we were determined to stay awake and alert should they need us. I also wanted to reaffirm my belief in my connection with la mia stella to prove that I would feel her, feel her distress if something were to happen. Perhaps, in my effort to dull the irrational jealousy and loneliness I felt with their departure, while also believing it was il vino the night before Castle Island, that had muddied my connection to her. But no, I found out il vino had nothing to do with it. For this time, she came even closer to not just death but to the pure disintegration of herself and her fox, with no hope for reincarnation, a belief that when the human body dies, the shifter’s spirit will continue on. A belief our foxes’ connection seems to support.

It wasn’t hard to find things to work on, to distract ourselves with, while we held our own vigil, keeping a light on for them. Xander had put Ethan and Wilhelmina in charge of organizing, disseminating, and summarizing all the data, quarterly reports, previous studies, email correspondence, contracts, and anything else detailing dealings between Decoction, William Knight, and other shifters. A mountain of information, far too much for two individuals to get through with any speed, let alone with the other more urgent demands on them. And since some of the information shared, such as email correspondences linking lead scientists listed on several of the lab reports to the Midwest Pack, could be used as evidence in the case the Shifter High Council is building against Councilman Hogan, our involvement seemed logical. Ethan concurred.

Annabelle and Heydar, with Ethan’s oversight, took on the organization of the material, separating everything out into categories as well as determining a timeline of their testing and how the research and relationship between the laboratory and the shifter community progressed over the years. In addition, we’ve been in constant communication with Randall and Clyde, who have been helping with adjusting some of the timelines and adding in details where they could.

We also received the laboratory results from the blood samples drawn from both Jaxson and Amber as well as what remnants they were able to extract from one of the used syringes.

They found hits of ketamine, something close to a neuroleptic, and GHB, in Jax’s sample, chemicals we believe to be from his initial injection. This explains why his muscles were stiff and why he was unable to speak or control his body. The reports for both Amber and Jaxson indicated very high levels of oxytocin, dopamine, testosterone, and progesterone, all of which were higher in Amber’s sample—alarmingly so. A few other biochemicals, possibly hormones or proteins, were found at concentrated levels and listed as unknown, not precisely matching anything that was in the laboratory’s chemical library. Two of them showed similar molecular structures to the main true-mate bonding hormones but not enough to confirm a match. The sample from the syringe showed several different protein peptides and enzymes, some known for stimulating the release of the hormones found in the blood samples and a few that were also listed as unknown.

With Xander’s authorization, we created a guest login so that my father and the scientists, who have worked with royal shifters for centuries as far back as when royals reigned over our kind, could access the data. They all come from the same three families, and all have sworn a bloodline oath, meaning if they were to deceive, share their findings, or do anything unscrupulous, it would not just result in their deaths but the deaths of all in their bloodline. That threat was tested and proven over fifty years ago, when there once were four bloodlines.

What the scientists were able to infer had my father demanding I retrieve the remaining samples and send them to him immediately. Though the royal scientists would not definitively stand by their findings until they run their own analyses, the two hormones specified as close to the mating hormones were a 90 percent match to the hormones produced when royals mated. Furthermore, one of the unknown biochemicals from the syringe matched at 95 percent to one of the enzymes royals secrete, the enzymes that stimulates the production of royal mating hormones.

Those were the answers I didn’t want but expected—the answers that had my father bringing up la mia stella , our connection, and the contract my parents signed with hers before they left Italy, when we thought they’d only be in Ireland. When we thought they’d be alive. He wants her to step fully into her title, to be la duchessa of his court, and to unite our famiglias , our blood, our powers.

I had convinced him of my approach, to trust in me and in Wilhelmina in finding our own way—to trust that we are connected. Being here with her, being a person she can trust and confide in during times like these, is how it needs to be—how it’s supposed to be. I do not want to force her, nor do I think she would react well to feeling pressured. The decision must come from her, be hers. He grew silent for a long few seconds, then softly snickered. “ Qual la madre, tal la figlia.”

He relented on the topic for now, but under the conditions that I make her royal education a priority, reminding me of the discussions around another unification contract. The one that has me potentially mating another royal, one that could unite courts—a royal who is fully aware of her responsibilities and more than willing to play her part. I stayed silent, unable to breathe, to swallow, my throat constricting from the noose of royal responsibility tightening, tying me to another. She’s a person, a shifter, who my fox and I have no desire to mate, let alone bond with.

I could sense mio padre ’s conflicted emotions. There’s the pride he has in me getting involved, in helping to uncover and be part of the force that will hopefully put an end to this injustice, and his fear. His fear that his only child, suo figlio , has potentially made himself a target, that he’s an ocean away without the protection of an entire royal guard or close to one of the three kings, including himself. After a few heavy moments where I felt my emotions clog my throat and my heart clench, my father softly coughed and mentioned that he also required that I formally introduce him to Councilman Swanson.

He wishes to be kept apprised of the information and progress the Shifter High Council is making regarding these alarming findings and the actions they plan on taking. If I’m stepping up, he said, perhaps so should he. Perhaps with enough evidence of not just the severity of the situation but the strength of the council, more royals would step forward and offer their assistance. He grew contemplative, and I could feel the weight of loss, of grief. “ La famiglia è tutto ,”

he murmured with a heavy sigh. “Those who have lost everything will not have forgotten.” My shoulders rounded, and I hunched over my desk under the grief of those we’ve known, those we’ve lost, and those who have lost, and I whispered my agreement.

Wilhelmina’s thumbs brushing my knuckles pulls me from my thoughts. I look up from our joined hands to find her still slouched down low on the couch as if every muscle in her body is napping, taking whatever opportunities are given to rest, while her brows are knitted together. She licks her lips and tosses me smirk. “Ya know, Sandro, if you’re going to ask questions, it’s customary, and,” she raises her brows “polite, to actually listen to the answers.”

My head drops down, bobbing several times, and my lips part into a small smile, allowing a light laugh to pass through them. “ Si. Si. You are correct, la mia stella . How rude of me. My apologies.”

“Apology accepted,” she teases and begins absentmindedly tapping her thumbs against the backs of my hands. My heart warms, recognizing the beat, the same one I tapped when we worked together on breaking Alpha Knight’s hold on his wolves—a bright moment from an otherwise horrendously dark day. “Once again, it doesn’t matter how tired I am.” She sighs. “My powers have been fully restored, and I need to get a handle on my abilities, get comfortable with them. I’d like to understand their limitations, preferably in controlled situations so Little Fox and I don’t unknowingly overextend ourselves.”

As if solidifying the commitment to our task, the whoosh of a door gliding open over a hardwood floor, brings with it a blast of cold air from the back patio. Goosebumps rise on the back of my neck, and I gaze over my shoulder seeing Annabelle, Ethan, Heydar, Assad, and Jax all strolling in, looking chilly. Assad rubs his hands in front of his chest and meets my inquisitive gaze. “It’s all set up, Principe ,” he stutters, his teeth chattering. “I would suggest wearing some layers.” He frowns, looking down at himself in only a long-sleeved athletic top and cargo pants.

“I tried to tell you,” Annabelle chimes in, stepping in front of him and tucking her fluffy white gloves under one arm so she can wrap her warm hands around his cold ones. “It gets cold up here, and wind chill is a real factor.”

“He’s always been stubborn, mate,” Heydar comments, coming around to hug her from behind. He’s wearing a Carhartt jacket and leather gloves. “Likes to learn things for himself.”

Assad’s lips move beneath his beard with the grumbles he’s silently muttering to himself. Unperturbed by his brother’s mild display of brattiness, Heydar continues, “If you go out to the vehicle, you’ll find a jacket and gloves for you.”

Annabelle hums her approval and kisses Assad’s rosy cheek. “It will only get colder, and we won’t be moving,” she murmurs. Assad rubs his cheek against hers and nods his agreement, then turns to stride past me and Wilhelmina, heading toward the front door.

I move to sit on the coffee table, my fingers still holding hers. Jax plops down next to her, and her body lifts with the spring of the couch cushion. Jax looks out the windows at my back and then arches a brow at me. “You sure you want to do this in the light?” Heydar and Annabelle come over to join us, standing to the side of the couch, while Ethan heads toward the front hall.

“ Si .” I nod, squeezing la mia stella ’s hands, trying to pull her up to standing, which has her groaning in disapproval. “We’ll be in an open field. She may emit light when it happens, better to have light around us than darkness.”

Jax places his hands on Wilhelmina’s hips and helps push her reluctant body all the way up, with him rising behind her. She flops back against his chest and gives my hands a pulsing squeeze before releasing so she can hold Jax’s forearm, which is already wrapped around her body, her cheek rubbing against the soft fleece of his jacket.

Excited voices and hurried steps, followed by much more measured and commanding paces, sound from the front hallway. I look up to see two wolf-shifters—the two wolf-shifters Little Fox decided to take on as her gentry—smiling with wide excited eyes as they rush toward us. Lifting my gaze, I find Xander following them looking weary, mildly shocked, and amused all at once.

Sliding my eyes to la mia stella , I can’t help but notice the sly smile slinking over her lips, the rise of her cheekbones, and the color— la vita —returning to her features. Oh si , si , she is definitely happy with her gentry. Her mates were taken aback by her selection—and I must admit even I was surprised.

* * *

When the others were setting up for la duchessa’s second lesson in harnessing her offensive powers, Xander, Wilhelmina, her two gentry (Asher and Naomi), and I met in the front room, now fully put together with help from Annabelle and Ethan for Xander to use an office. It was the first time la mia stella had met them in human form.

Perhaps a little unsure and most definitely awestruck, I wanted to truly test the assumption of her taking on gentry. The other night, I along with my fox guided Wilhelmina and Fragolina in the process of accessing them. Though the connection to one’s gentry isn’t as strong as those truly bonded to us, their role as knights means distance matters more than details. Royals and their gentry are able to hear and speak to one another, feeling the strengthening of the connection as the distance closes, but their shifters can’t access mental space more than that. Once her fox was able to solidify the connection, my fox and I sat back as they introduced themselves, Fragolina taking the lead as host after I shared with them a brief description of their roles, including their responsibilities, which they already knew the core of, having the knowledge imparted on them when their roles solidified.

We invited Asher and Naomi here today so we can all assess them and form our own opinions and connections with them. But most importantly, this is an opportunity for them to individually bow to Xander as their alpha. With Naomi and Asher as la duchessa ’s gentry, but with Xander as the alpha of their pack, clear distinctions needed to be made. Wilhelmina and her fox were adamant that when it came to the pack, Xander and his wolf were in charge and that Naomi and Asher needed to submit to him—in their human form.

I do wish I’d had a camera to capture the expression on Xander’s face when the two wolf-shifters showed up on the front steps. He stared at the security camera image, blinked several times, and then slowly turned his head to his mate with shocked confusion freezing his wide eyes. His reaction had me getting up from my seat and making my way around the desk. He leaned back so I could get a closer look, and we turned to each other, me mirroring his expression, and then we both set those wondering gazes on la mia stella .

Her brows dipped down, and a few mumbling grumbles were exhaled as she placed a hand on the mahogany desk and leaned over to see for herself. She stared at them and watched them interact, which included Asher’s expressive gestures and Naomi’s rolling eyes and smirking lips.

Wilhelmina’s eyes widened, her mouth opened into an excited smile, and she snorted a short laugh. “Yup.” She chuckled with a bob of her head. “That’s totally them.” She giggled. “And they’re going to be amazing... like, super fun.” Then she spun and hurried to let them in.

Based on their energies and their wolves’ energies when they connected through the bond, I had a feeling they were younger, but... I flicked my gaze back to the monitor and then to Xander. “Are they even”—I waved a hand around— “legal?”

Xander cocked a brow. “Interested?”

Dipping my chin, I shook my head and swiped a hand down my face, sighing. “That is not what I meant. Adult, what is the age? Are they still in...” I paused and snapped my fingers. “High school?”

Excited voices filled the hallway as Wilhelmina greeted her gentry, her knights, and notified them of the no-shoes-inside-the-house policy. “Naomi just turned sixteen, and Asher’s eighteen. From the files I was sent, which need updated photographs since theirs were from when they first shifted, Naomi graduated last year, skipped two grades. Apparently, she’s genius-level smart and has a gift when it comes to computers. Asher just graduated this summer, having to repeat a few classes due to lack of attendance. His gift appears to be... socializing,” Xander explained, then brought his mouth to my ear and licked his lips. “You never answered my question.”

My lips tugged up, appreciating the interaction, the comfortability of it, and with perfect timing, Wilhelmina came in with her gentry behind her, providing me the excuse to not answer.

* * *

The sound of the front door opening and closing and the alarm being set, followed by the familiar cadence of Assad’s almost-silent steps and another pair almost too quiet for my fox-shifter ears to pick up, has Jax gazing around. He nods his head, noting that Ethan’s rejoined the group with a white stocking hat, matching mittens, and a long black puffy, quilted jacket in hand. “Looks like we’re all here,” Jax says, snuggling his mate deeper into his embrace and rocking her from side to side. “Guess it’s time for the main event. What do you think, are you up for it, Rocky?”

Wilhelmina burrows the side of her face into the crook of his shoulder, muffling her grumpy mumblings before resting the back of her head against his chest. He kisses the top of her head before resting his cheek there. She lifts her gaze to me, a gaze set in hard determination—a complete contrast to her recent sounds of discontent. Her eyes flash with Little Fox’s presence, and my fox rises in response. “You’ll be with me,” la mia stella says with a crease between her brows. “You’ll—” She takes a trembling inhale. “We’ll be connected, right?”

“Si, la mia stella ,” I affirm with a dip of my chin. “Like last time, with the...” I toss her a lopsided smile. “Wonder Whip.” A tinkling laugh tumbles through her nervously twisting lips, and I sigh, loving the sound. “All the way until you release the power.”

She blows out a breath and twists her head around until she finds Xander. “I’ll try not to, um... light anything on fire this time.”

Xander stays in the back of the group, his glowing eyes sliding over everyone before landing on her. His mouth curls upward at the edges, and he bows his head in mock appreciation while buttoning up his black Carhartt jacket and puffing out a short laugh. “Good, because all water to the outside has been shut off for the winter.”

“Fire?” Asher exclaims, tucking his long arms into his dark-gray woolen trench coat. Designer, I’m sure of it. “If I’d known there’d be a potential fire, I’d have dressed differently,” he laments, adjusting the gray-and-pink Burberry scarf under the lapels of his coat. He looks down at his magenta cashmere V-neck sweater, possibly Dior, showing off what can only be a professionally spray-tanned chest adorned with several gold chains. “Maybe a denim jacket with wool accent and a pink-and-white flannel would have been more appropriate.”

Naomi side-eyes her friend, her best friend, her—what is the American term? Ride or die. The boy who has been with her, by her side, since she and her father—her abusive alcoholic father—brought her to the White Mountain Wolf Pack when she was no more than five. The boy who went with her the other night to stand by her side in the woods neither of them wanted to be in. She had little choice, her father having beaten her into submission, telling her to watch and show her pride as he and others like him helped take down their delusional new alpha. That decision led to his death and left her without parents, her mother having died during childbirth.

She bows her head and hides her face—her gorgeous face with a smattering of freckles over smooth, sallow skin, a coloring that comes from the Caribbean by way of Ireland—behind her hand. Coppery-brown curls of her coil-out mohawk bounce with the shaking of her head at his antics. The small smile she’s trying to hide gives way to the affection she feels for him.

“Hopefully no fire will happen,” Ethan says, coming around the couch with the long coat open for Wilhelmina. She turns around, and he slips it on her.

I pause to pick up my black peacoat from the spindle chair and jerk my chin to Ethan, who’s turned his mate around and zipped up her jacket, about to put on her mittens. “Those will not be necessary,” I inform them, shrugging into my peacoat, though looking at Asher’s has me wanting to purchase another. Maybe longer, dark green perhaps. “Like last time, the power will involve her hands.”

“The hat will be fine though, right?” Ethan says while brushing her hair back and gently sliding the white knit hat on. Wilhelmina’s eyes glisten as she softly stares up at Ethan with affectionate appreciation.

“ Si ,” I reply. “It should not interfere with the deployment of her magic.”

“All right, let’s go do some badass shit,” Wilhelmina asserts, clapping her hands together and stepping out from between her two mates.

“Yes, that fluffy pom just screams badass shit,” Assad deadpans.

Wilhelmina rolls her eyes upward like she’s seeing the hat on top of her head. Bringing her mocking gaze down and around to face Assad, she points a finger up. “Ah... I have two poms, and you’re just jealous because you’re not part of the Pom-Pom Guild.”

“Like the Lollipop Guild?” Naomi questions in a deeply rasped voice, one that seems as if she’s screamed for years without her vocal cords ever healing. “And please don’t make that part of our gentry uniform, duchessa .”

La mia stella adjusts her hat, making her poms bounce as she chimes, “I’d never make you wear anything you don’t want to. But I bet after today you may think otherwise, seeing the power of the pom.” She reaches her hand out for mine. Clasping hers, we glide toward the side patio with chins held high, as she proclaims, “Now let’s blow shit up without causing too much damage. Ya know, keeping it classy.”

“We are royals after all,” I add, and she bobs her head in agreement, the pom-poms bobbing as well.