My pack. Our pack. Maybe not forever, but for now? “You know what I think?”
“I’m terrible at guessing games, Chase, you know that.”
Chase grinned at Tanner’s indignant tone and kissed his cheek. “I think—or rather I don’t think—your pack was disbanded at all.”
Tanner reared back, his brows drawn together in a scowl. “Are you kidding? You heard . . . well . . . whoever said it, because I can’t remember now. The Wallowa pack is gone.”
“I wasn’t talking about Wallowa. I mean you. Me.” He nodded at the juniors. “Them. Maybe Mal and Ted. Dr. MacLeod. Our pack.”
Tanner’s face puckered in a bewildered frown. “Mal and Dr. MacLeod aren’t weres. And Ted is a bear we only met yesterday.”
“Yeah, but that’s the thing. We’ve been taught that the definition of a pack, the makeup of all our packs, is a constant. A given. Our destiny. But didn’t that journal reveal that the definition of pack is more fluid than we’ve believed for decades?” Chase gripped the back of Tanner’s neck. “Pack is the people you count on to have your back—no matter where they’re from, or whether they’re weres or bear shifters or fae or freaking winged incubi in bespoke suits.”
Tanner winced. “Poor Quentin. That suit must have cost a mint. I know Unc— Patrick had some custom tailored suits too, and he put Finn on water rations for a week when he accidentally spilled tomato juice on one once.” Tanner huffed. “That should have tipped me off that he had grandiose plans. Who needs custom tailoring when your pack economy is based on sawmills and lumber camps?”
“But don’t you see? Quentin didn’t care. He even laughed about it, because for him, the suit wasn’t a consideration. Ted was important. So was our safety and ensuring that Patrick answers for his actions.”
“So what you’re saying . . .”
“What I’m saying is that we—you and I—have been struggling because both of us have seen our duty, our place in our respective packs, as inescapable. And we were miserable. But what if pack isn’t inescapable so much as inevitable? And what if you find the one you need when it’s time?”
Inevitable. Tanner allowed himself to lean against Chase. “Could it really be so simple?”
Chase chuckled, the vibrations resonating in Tanner’s bones. “I’m pretty sure that’s not simple at all. It’s gonna be hard to sell to the pack council, to our own families—” Chase winced. “Sorry.”
Tanner poked the sore place in his heart where Patrick’s betrayal lurked. Yes, it hurt. Yes, it probably would for quite a while. Forever? Maybe not. Because Chase was right in that respect. Tanner had always felt far more at home at the Doghouse than he ever had at the pack compound. “It’s okay.” And it really was. Because that place in his heart wasn’t empty.
It held Chase.
And maybe Dakota and Hector and Gage and, gods forbid, Jordan too, all of whom were clustered around Mal, dressed once again except for— “Where’s Jordan’s shirt?”
Chase snorted. “Don’t ask.”
Mal herded them into the forest as Ted, still in bear form, lumbered toward the cabin. Chase murmured, “Brace yourself.”
“For what?”
Ted disappeared around the side of the cabin, then a moment later, poked his head around the corner, his chest bare. Oh. “Hey, guys. I’m gonna go in the back way and get cleaned up and dressed.” He sighed, gazing mournfully at the ground in front of the cabin, which looked like a failed strip mine. “I need to get the dryad crew out here to fix this before the wedding. It’s not exactly part of the venue, but you can see it from the deck. This shindig is supposed to convince people we’re a high-class joint for their own parties. Nobody’ll be impressed if it looks like Godzilla-sized moles have invaded the place. But you two can hang out here until Mal comes back to get you, okay? Sorry I can’t invite you to the wedding.”
“No worries, Ted.” Tanner smiled at the big man. “You’ve gone way beyond the call of duty this afternoon.”
“Duty?” Ted snorted. “Duty had nothing to do with it. You’re good people. You’re friends.” His expression darkened. “And me and Q-Bert don’t allow anyone to mess with our friends.” He disappeared again, and a moment later, Tanner heard footsteps inside the cabin.
“And that,” Chase said, “is the definition of pack.”
Tanner had to laugh, and Chase joined him. “How long do you think it will take us to convince pack leadership of that?”
Chase gazed out at the lake, a tiny wrinkle between his brows. “I’m not sure. But if we don’t start, we’ll never get there, right?”
“I suppose.”
“Besides, in the time you’ve been, er, out of pocket, there’ve been a lot of shakeups in the supe community. I don’t know whether that will make the pack leadership more likely to accept change or more likely to dig in their heels and growl like a dog protecting its last decaying bone, but there’s one thing I’m sure of.”
Tanner turned his head to face Chase at the steel in Chase’s tone. Alpha-authority. Tanner shivered and croaked, “What?”
Chase’s eyes glowed gold. “I’m not willing to let you go.”
“Y-you’re not?”
Chase shook his head slowly. “Did I tell you what happened when I went to the Quest offices to ask for their help finding you?”
Warmth pooled in Tanner’s belly. He still couldn’t believe that Chase had looked for him, let alone found him. “Mal said he’d help?”
“Besides that.” Chase cradled Tanner’s face in his hands. “Their office manager—who’s a demon, by the way, if we’re looking for things that aren’t the same as they’ve always been—took one look at me and told me why I was there.”
“To hire Mal. That’s the point of going there, isn’t it?”
“He told me why I needed to hire Mal. I hadn’t said a single word but he knew why I was there. When he took me in to meet Mal, Niall, and Hugh, he told them, ‘He wants to find the man he loves.’”
Tanner’s heart tried to leap off the porch. “Was he right?”
“Haven’t you heard?” Chase kissed Tanner’s forehead, his cheek, his lips. “Demons are never wrong about your deepest desire.”
“Chase,” Tanner moaned.
“I’d never bought into the whole fated-mates thing. I think we have more control over ourselves than that. But the moment you walked into the Doghouse, when I looked into your eyes the first time, you know what I thought?”
Tanner shook his head. He couldn’t have spoken if he’d had the words to say.
“Inevitable.”
Tanner launched himself into Chase’s arms, overbalancing them both so they toppled onto the porch. Their kiss this time was heated and raw and almost desperate. Inevitable.
“Hey, guys— Whoa!”
Tanner gasped and rolled away from Chase, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Chase was backed against the porch post, hair mussed and shirt open to display his chest as Ted loomed over them, wearing dress slacks and a button-down, with a garment bag slung over his shoulder.
“Um, sorry, Ted,” Tanner muttered.
Ted laughed, a big rolling sound that echoed across the lake. “No need for apologies. I know how hard it can be to keep your hands off . . . er . . .” His face turned ruddy above his beard. “Never mind. But you guys might want to take it inside. The wedding guests will start to arrive soon, and since most of ’em will be taking the FTA, they’ll be marching along the path in front of the cabin. You’ll have the place to yourselves until later. I’ll be patrolling, and Mal won’t be back until after the reception tonight or Bryce’ll have words for him.”
Tanner pushed himself to his feet. “Won’t, er, Quentin need to stop in to change? His suit was a little worse for wear.”
“Nah.” Ted wiggled the garment bag’s hanger. “I’ve got his duds right here. Make yourself at home. Wash today off yourself. There’s plenty of hot water left.” He trotted down the porch steps. “I’ll have Mal bring you some cake wh
en he comes to collect you after the reception.”
Ted strode off down the path.
“You know,” Chase said, wrapping an arm around Tanner’s waist, “I’d always heard that bears were cranky, antisocial loners. The antithesis of wolves. But I dare you to find a nicer guy anywhere.”
Tanner leaned against Chase’s shoulder. “He’s pack.”
Chase chuckled. “Yep. I’m pretty sure he’s in everyone’s pack, as long as they don’t hurt his friends.” He kissed the top of Tanner’s head. “Now, want to check out that bear-sized bathtub with me?”
Tanner pulled back and lifted an eyebrow. “Is that a trick question?”
Chase grinned and tugged Tanner into the cabin. They shed their clothes in the living room, Chase laughing at Tanner when he folded his borrowed shirt and trousers over the back of the sofa.
As it happened, a bear-sized bathtub with its rainfall showerhead was more than big enough for two weres, even if those two weres were overenthusiastic about exploring every inch of one another.
Afterward, lying in bed with his head resting on Chase’s shoulder, their legs entwined, Tanner had never felt contentment so deep and wide. Yet underneath it was a niggle of something. With Chase’s even breathing and steady heartbeat to ground him, he poked at that niggle until it smacked him in the consciousness.
“Chase?”
“Hmmm?”
“Shouldn’t I feel worse about my uncle?”
Chase rolled onto his side, dislodging Tanner from his chest, but draping an arm over his waist to keep him close. “Worse about what? About his actions? Because he’s going to be punished for them?”
“No. I mean, sort of. My parents died when I was very young, and although I’m really freaking angry that they were murdered, it’s a distant loss, you know? But Patrick . . . Well, he’s my only blood family other than Finn, and I’m used to Finn hating me.”
“Maybe not so much. Remember he’s the one who bore witness to the council about his father’s actions. I mean, sure he’s been a jerk, no question, but he might deserve a second chance if you want to give it to him.”
Tanner shrugged. “I might. After all, he tried to warn me about Patrick back on my birthday. Then he tried to save me today and got shot twice by his own father.” Tanner shivered when he remembered the sound of the bullets thudding into Finn’s body. “I’m glad he’s going to be okay. It’s a start, I guess.”
“There are worse ways to mend a relationship. At least he’s not a psychopath. Not like your uncle.”
“But Patrick was nice to me. Supported me. Took my part.”
Chase stroked Tanner’s side, and by now Tanner didn’t even mind that it seemed like Chase was counting his ribs. “You know, that always kind of bothered me.”
“What did?”
“The words Patrick said seemed like they were supportive, but they were always a backhanded cut against your self-confidence.”
Tanner peered up at him. “I thought it was just me.”
“Definitely not. I think he’s been gaslighting you your whole life.”
Tanner rested a hand on Chase’s chest. Because I can. “Maybe that’s why I’ve always felt more at home at the Doghouse than I ever did at the compound. More supported. More okay. More me.”
Chase smiled down at him. “That’s because home isn’t a place. It’s people.”
“Pack?” Tanner asked, a gentle tease in his tone.
“Found pack. Chosen pack. Even if it’s temporary, it’s still real. And you and me?” Chase brushed Tanner’s hair off his forehead. “We’re real.” He kissed Tanner, slow and unhurried, lips and tongues and breath. When he pulled back, he was smiling. “After all, if a demon says so, it’s gotta be true.”
Chase carried two cups of coffee onto the porch where Tanner was sitting on the steps, gazing out at the moonlit lake. Music still drifted across the water from the lodge, even though it was past midnight. He handed Tanner a cup.
Tanner smiled up at him. “Thank you.” He gestured to the lodge, where fairy lights twinkled along the deck railing. “I wonder if the grooms demanded a special playlist. I never knew DJs, even supe ones, had so many Hunter’s Moon songs.”
“That’s not a DJ.” Chase settled on the step next to Tanner, their hips brushing, and although it wasn’t as exciting as when they were skin to skin, the touch still centered him. This is how it was supposed to be from the beginning. “That is Hunter’s Moon.”
Tanner goggled at him. “You’re joking. Hunter’s Moon can fill stadiums. What are they doing playing in a venue this size for a private party?”
“Doing a favor for a friend.” The familiar voice in the dark startled Chase into sloshing coffee onto his hand. Dr. MacLeod’s glasses glinted in the candlelight from the open door as he stepped out of the shadows. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to surprise you. Do you need some burn ointment?”
Chase shook the coffee off his hand. “No, thanks. I’m good. Were you up at the wedding, Dr. MacLeod?”
“Please. Call me Bryce. We needn’t keep to the formalities up here.” He leaned against the porch post. “To answer your question, yes. I was Rusty’s best man, as he’ll be mine in ten days, twenty-one hours, and thirteen minutes. And as for your unasked question . . .” He grinned. “Gareth Kendrick is still paying off an arrears of being an unmitigated asshole to his brothers for a couple of centuries. He and the band volunteered to play. Gratis.”
“Wow,” Tanner breathed. “Too bad my uncle isn’t a famous musician. He’d owe me concerts for life.”
Bryce cleared his throat. “Yes. About that.”
Beside Chase, Tanner stiffened. Chase set down his cup to wrap an arm around Tanner’s shoulders and nestle him against Chase’s side. “Has something happened?”
“Oh, nothing other than what you already know. Patrick Lassiter is in custody awaiting trial. But with the disbanding of the Wallowa pack, Tanner’s position is, shall we say, up in the air?”
Tanner leaned into Chase. “I’m not disputing it, if that’s what the worry is. I don’t want to be the pack alpha. I never did.”
“It’s not only the social structure, you understand. It’s the pack property as well. It’s to be sold and the proceeds distributed to the remaining pack members. Including you.”
“That . . . seems fair.”
“Are you sure? That means your home will be gone. Unless you choose to use your share of the proceeds to buy it back.”
Tanner shook his head. “That’s not my home.” He gazed at Chase, so much love in his eyes that Chase wanted to roll over onto his back and expose his neck, despite the hickeys that probably decorated it after hours in bed with Tanner. “I’ve got my home with me.” He giggled. “Maybe I’m a turtle instead of a were.”
Bryce grinned again. “I must say I’m pleased by your attitude, because I have a proposition for you.”
“Proposition?”
“Yes. By pack law, you’re allowed to remain at the Doghouse until the end of your third Howling year. But after that, you’d have been expected to return to your compound for your alpha to arrange your service assignment.”
“I don’t have a pack leader to speak for me.” He leaned his head against Chase’s temple. “But at least I’ve got practice being packless.”
Chase squeezed his shoulder. “You’re not packless. Remember?” Tanner just shook his head.
“How would you feel,” Bryce said, “if I were to petition the pack council to allow you to serve your three years with me?”
Tanner straightened, although he didn’t pull away from Chase. “With you?”
“Yes. I’ve always been impressed by your devotion to your studies.” Bryce chuckled. “Something noticeably lacking in your housemates. On paper, you’d be part of an environmental project through the Pacific Northwest College of Arts and Sciences, where I teach. You’d be enrolled as a student”—he mock-glared at Tanner—“where you’d be expected to fulfill all your class requirements to my very ex
acting standards. But really, you’d be serving as my assistant on a project for the druid council.”
Tanner exchanged a glance with Chase. “Um, what kind of project? Not . . . not potion experimentation?”
“God, no! The supe community has suffered because so much of our lore and traditions are oral. So many secrets. So much crucial information lost or purposely suppressed. I want—”
“Wait here!” Tanner jumped up and rushed into the cabin.
Bryce raised his eyebrows. “Was it something I said?”
Chase grinned up at him. “I think you made his day. Maybe his entire life.”
Bryce smiled wryly. “No. I think you’ve done that.”
Heat rushed up Chase’s throat. “I—”
“Don’t worry. It’s all good. You can count on my support, and Mal’s. Although I have to ask . . .”
Chase peered up at Bryce. Was that disapproval in his tone? “Um, yes?”
“Why on earth are you signed up for prelaw?”
“I—”
“You’ve got the makings of a fine social worker, and believe me, the supe community needs one. They need a lot of them, given the changes that are overtaking us at the speed of the twenty-first century. We can’t manage with only one psychologist and one psychiatric nurse practitioner. You have the aptitude and the passion for helping others. I think you should consider it.”
The tide of longing that swept over Chase was followed by dejection. “I’d love it. But I can’t. My pack—”
“Doesn’t your pack have at least two lawyers in it already?”
“Yes, but—”
Tanner raced back onto the porch. He held out the journal to Bryce. “Here.”
Bryce took the book. “What’s this?”
“A journal. A were’s journal. Starting in 1833.”
Bryce’s eyes rounded. “A written record?” He opened the leather cover reverently, but cursed when he couldn’t read anything in the dim light. “This is game-changing.” He looked up, his gaze fierce. “Now you must join my project. Not that I want to force you—”
Howling on Hold Page 25
