by Amy Pennza
His hands twitched with the need to reach for her. To touch her—anything to make sure she was okay.
Instead, he had to clear his throat and motion down the hall. “Uh, this way.” As if they didn’t know how to find his bedroom. Dom, Max, and Lizette had been in the cabin plenty of times. Even Sophie, with her limited knowledge of the layout, could have guessed. There were only two rooms upstairs.
He shoved his concerns aside and led them into his bedroom. The sooner they got this over with, the sooner he could get Sophie alone. He needed to apologize for that kiss.
Even though he wasn’t sorry for it—at least not for himself.
At least his room was clean, he thought as everyone filed inside. Although, he’d never been messy. Fostering as a teen had done that. Dom’s parents were gracious, and they’d never made him feel out of place, but the knowledge of being other—a subtle reminder that he was, and always would be, an outsider—had driven him to tidiness. As if by endearing himself to his hosts, he could guarantee a spot for himself in their home.
Max headed right for Remy’s desk, which occupied a corner of the large room. Instead of sitting behind it, however, he leaned a hip against the edge. The position gave him the ability to survey everyone in the room.
Sophie hesitated at the threshold. She gazed at everything and nothing all at once, as if she didn’t want to look too closely at his private space.
“Here,” he said, crossing the room and pulling a wingback chair from a seating arrangement near the window. He liked to read upstairs some nights, especially when the moon was full. Contrary to the stories humans liked to tell, werewolves weren’t influenced by the moon. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the natural beauty upstate New York had to offer on a clear night with a huge harvest moon in the sky.
Dom took up residence in a corner, arms folded, an aura of menace around him. His typical look. Under other circumstances, Remy would have asked if he practiced it in a mirror.
Lizette settled on the bed next to Sophie’s chair, as if she wanted to stay close enough to offer a reassuring touch if Sophie needed it. Sophie looked at her, and Lizette offered a warm smile.
That was typical, too. Some members of the pack grumbled about Lizette’s past—even going so far as to call her “half-breed,” although she was no such thing. In Remy’s mind, though, Lizette’s orphan status was an asset. Growing up in the human world had given her a unique sense of empathy. Werewolves were raised to stifle their emotions, as strong feelings could influence the wolf, making it unstable. Lizette didn’t have that shield over her heart. It’s probably what made her an excellent counselor. Remy liked to tease her about her chosen profession, calling her “shrink-a-dink” and “Dr. Ruth,” but he was crazy proud of her. Other wolves might claim her human connection made her soft, but that softness was a hidden strength.
And goodness knew Max needed more softness in his life.
The Alpha focused his attention on Remy. “Now, explain why you saw fit to drag my wife into this without my knowledge.”
Leave it to Max to get straight to the point. Remy leaned against the door. It was the only one in the house reinforced with steel and filled with soundproofing foam. The room wasn’t airtight, but the two Hunters downstairs wouldn’t hear more than the faintest murmurs.
That didn’t make it any easier to know where the hell to begin.
Lizette spoke, her voice low but firm. “Max, Remy didn’t drag me into anything.” She glanced at Remy as she placed a hand on the armrest of Sophie’s chair. “Before we go any further,” she said to Max, “I want to ask you a question.”
Max furrowed his brow. It was the closest Remy had seen him come to frowning at Lizette since they completed their mate bond. Lizette had already trampled on his authority downstairs. Now she’d interrupted his questioning of a subordinate wolf. Wife or no, there weren’t too many Alphas who would tolerate such lapses in protocol. It wasn’t necessarily about ego, although plenty of Alphas had enough of that to spare. Werewolves played a game of constant tug-of-war. The human half could reason. The animal half operated on instinct, and it didn’t account for a man respecting and honoring his wife’s opinions. Dominance was the only thing that mattered to the beast.
Fortunately for Lizette, Max was too smitten with her to care. More importantly, he was a strong enough Alpha to keep his wolves in line without treating his mate like a doormat. After a second, he said, “All right, petite. You’ve piqued my interest.”
“How do you feel about arranged marriages?”
It was obvious Max hadn’t expected that. He seemed to search for a response. “Uh… Well, a number of packs still prefer them. As you know, our numbers dwindle every year.” He said this in a tone that made it seem like he’d rehearsed it—the way a politician might rattle off a talking point.
“But how do you feel about them? You personally.”
“Where is this going, petite?” But he must have already known because he looked at Sophie. Every Alpha in the country knew of the union between Samuel Gregory’s daughter and the heir to the Vermont Territory. Such alliances were common. Although packs chose their leaders, wolves with powerful Gifts did everything they could to breed their offspring to those with the same abilities.
It didn’t much matter what those being bred thought of the arrangement.
Lizette put her hand over Sophie’s, but her words were for Max. “Asher Benton is an abusive bastard, and he’s not getting anywhere near Sophie ever again.”
The rage Remy had stuffed deep in his gut threatened to burst into fresh flames. He didn’t need any reminders of what Benton had done. Lizette might have healed the bite marks on Sophie’s skin, but they were forever seared in his mind.
As he had downstairs, he kept his gaze on the floor. It was the only way to hold his wolf in check. Sophie’s anxiety was like an electric current in the air, and Remy’s beast wanted to shove everyone from the room so she could rest. Above all, it wanted to banish the Alpha from the cabin—to remove the powerful male’s presence from Sophie’s orbit.
Remy’s human half knew that would be a mistake. Max gave his wife as much leeway as she wanted, but his patience didn’t extend to his Hunters.
Max sighed, prompting Remy to look up. The Alpha’s face was grave, but his voice was gentle as he addressed Sophie. “This is true? I trust my wife, but I need to hear it from you.”
“Yes,” Sophie said. Her voice came out as a croak. She cleared her throat and spoke again, clearer this time. “Yes, it’s true. Asher was…” A shadow crossed her features.
Lizette leaned toward her. “I can tell him if you want,” she said, her voice low.
“No, you can’t,” Dom said from the corner.
“Why not?” Lizette looked between him and Max.
Max answered. “Because it’s up to me to grant her sanctuary”—he raised an eyebrow at Sophie—“assuming she wants it?”
Sophie nodded, but she looked defeated. “If my father and Hamish called, they already know I’m here. I have nowhere else to go.”
Max met Lizette’s questioning gaze. “I’ll grant the sanctuary request, but they can challenge it.”
“And you can be certain they will,” Dom said.
“Probablement,” Max said with a Gallic shrug that somehow managed to be both casual and menacing. “Which means they’ll want a trial, and they’ll send their best Trackers to make sure I had a legitimate reason to keep another Alpha’s daughter in my territory.”
“Werewolf trials are short,” Dom said, his gaze on Lizette, who had little knowledge of legal disputes in their world. “There’s no need for evidence or a jury when a skilled Tracker can sniff out a lie within seconds. A firsthand account is always more accurate than a story that’s been diluted by the retelling of it. If Max bases his decision on your words rather than Sophie’s, a good Tracker will scent it.”
Max grunted. “And Gregory and Benton will be immediately suspicious as to why I didn’t ge
t the facts from Sophie herself.”
Understanding dawned in Lizette’s face. “They could accuse you of trying to make a power grab—kidnapping Sophie so you can manipulate her father and Hamish Benton.”
“Alphas have done it before.” Max gave her a pointed look. “It’s one of the reasons I insist on you having a guard when you travel into town.” Judging from his expression, this was something of a sore subject between them.
Lizette blew out an exasperated breath. “I will never understand werewolf politics. Can’t we all just get along?”
“Wolves are territorial,” Dom said.
Lizette squeezed Sophie’s hand. “I’m sorry you have to talk about this.” Sophie’s gaze was on her lap, so she didn’t see Lizette glance at Remy.
“It’s okay,” Sophie said. “It’s my story to tell, anyway.” She took a deep breath. Then, in a low, halting voice, she talked about agreeing to marry Asher despite her misgivings, of how he seemed to dislike her from the start.
At that moment, Remy’s hatred for the prick multiplied tenfold. He clenched his jaw against the grinding pressure of his fangs trying to descend.
“My father insisted on mating me to a strong Finder,” Sophie said. A wry smile lifted her mouth for a moment. “My Gift is the only thing that’s ever impressed him.”
“And Asher is skilled?” Max asked. He exchanged a look with Dom. “My Hunters have never been able to find out much about him.”
Sophie nodded. “He is. I’m probably faster, but he can run at top speed longer than any Finder I know.” The smile disappeared. “He’s fast in a fight, too.”
“He hurt you,” Max said. His expression was impassive, and it probably fooled Sophie. But Remy and everyone else in the room knew Max was holding his temper on a tight leash. The thought soothed Remy’s wolf.
“Yes,” Sophie said softly. She seemed to draw on some kind of inner resolve because she powered through the rest of the story without pausing or stumbling over her words. The whole, alarming tale, from her conversation with Remy at the border to her escape from the Vermont compound, unfolded like she was reciting a plot from a movie.
Remy curled his hands into fists when she described Asher’s abuse. It wasn’t any easier hearing her story the second time around.
It affected the others, too. Dom’s face was its usual mask, but Remy knew him well enough to recognize the anger burning underneath the calm facade. Lizette lowered her head, as if the weight of Sophie’s words was too heavy to bear.
Max stayed silent, the only sign of emotion the small muscle ticking in his jaw. The best Alphas had excellent poker faces, but not even Max could remain impassive while Sophie described the abuse she suffered during her marriage.
When she got to the part where she called out Remy’s name, Max stopped her.
“You spoke mind-to-mind with him?”
For the first time, she looked at Remy. For the briefest moment, her gaze dropped to his mouth. Pink bloomed in her cheeks, and she refocused on Max. “Not consciously. I didn’t know he would hear me, if that’s what you mean.”
Max turned to Remy. “But you did.”
“Yes. The call was so powerful, it fried me. I’ve been burned out since last night.”
“Has a non-Telepath ever managed that before?”
“Not with me.”
Max looked at Dom, who still stood with his arms folded. “Have you ever heard of anything like this?”
“No. It shouldn’t be possible, not even with Remy’s Gift.”
The Alpha seemed to think for a minute. Finally, he shot Lizette a sheepish smile. “You were right to insist on keeping this conversation private.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Of course I was.”
A subtle current flowed between them—respect, love, and more than a little lust sizzled through the air.
Remy made eye contact with Sophie. The blush in her cheeks deepened, and she looked away.
Did she regret their kiss? He couldn’t blame her. What had he been thinking, anyway, kissing her like that? She needed a safe haven, not a near-stranger jumping down her throat.
Max pushed away from the dresser, which signaled the meeting was over. Dom emerged from his corner, and Lizette and Sophie stood.
Funny how that worked. The Alpha didn’t have to say a word to get people to do his bidding. It wasn’t that way with every Alpha. Remy had been around enough packs to know that not every leader wore power as easily as Max.
“I know we already discussed it,” he told Sophie, “but we have to make the sanctuary official. Do you know the words?”
Sophie nodded. “Yes.”
“And you understand you’ll be under my authority as one of my wolves?”
“Yes.”
“Go ahead, then.”
Sophie’s voice was soft but firm. “I formally request sanctuary in the New York Territory. I pledge my loyalty and will obey my Alpha’s commands.”
“Granted,” Max said. He looked around the room, his gaze touching on each person. “In front of these witnesses, I offer sanctuary to Sophie Gregory, formerly of the Vermont and Pennsylvania Territories.” Although his face was stern, he winked at Sophie. “I threw in both, just in case anyone questions which territory you came from.”
She offered him a shy smile. “Thanks.”
“I haven’t spoken to your father or Hamish directly, but I won’t be able to ignore their phone calls forever.” Max glanced at Dom, his expression grim. “For all we know, they might be sitting on our borders.”
Lizette gasped. “They can’t cross into the territory, can they?”
“Not without my permission,” Max said. “To do otherwise would be as good as declaring war.”
Dom spoke. “That doesn’t mean they won’t. And they have the numbers to challenge us. Together, they outnumber us two to one.”
“I don’t think it will come to that,” Max said. “At least not yet.”
Sophie looked stricken. “This is my fault. I shouldn’t have come here.”
“Don’t be silly,” Lizette said, patting her hand. “You couldn’t stay in Vermont. We’re happy to have you.”
“They’ll honor the sanctuary,” Max said. “They don’t have a choice. Our laws are clear. But we should expect a challenge.” He leveled a look at Sophie. “You need to prepare yourself to see your father and your father-in-law, and soon.”
She swallowed. “How long do you think I have?”
Max looked at Dom.
“Two days,” Dom said. “Maybe three. I can’t see either one coming without an escort. It takes time to coordinate a show of force.”
Sophie gave a shaky nod, and Remy could almost see a countdown clock form in her head. “At least I won’t have to worry about seeing Asher.”
“No,” Dom said. “I can’t see any Alpha bringing his heir under these circumstances. Hamish would be stupid to endanger the succession that way.”
Max extended a hand to Lizette, who took it and moved to his side. He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. “Go downstairs with Remy and Dom. I’d like to talk to Sophie for a minute.”
Lizette’s gaze moved to Remy. “Okay.”
Irritation shot through Remy. On its heels came a surge of reluctant admiration. Max had maneuvered things exactly the way he wanted them. By granting Sophie sanctuary, he made her part of his pack. That put her squarely under his authority, which meant he had the right to toss everyone—Remy included—from the room so he could talk to her alone.
And there wasn’t a damn thing Remy could do about it. Not unless he wanted to issue a challenge.
Since he wasn’t feeling suicidal, he moved away from the door and opened it. Before he stepped into the hall, he caught Sophie’s eye. “You’ll be okay up here?” Max would never harm her or make her feel uncomfortable—not intentionally, anyway. But she didn’t know that.
She lifted her chin. “Yes.”
Ah, that gesture of hers was going to be his undoing. Something about
her confidence, even when she was vulnerable and afraid, struck a chord inside him—made lust surge under his skin and in his veins.
He met Max’s gaze and held it. Take care with her. His Gift wasn’t fully online yet, so he couldn’t speak it into the Alpha’s mind, but he knew the message was loud and clear in his eyes.
Max’s mouth tightened. Oh yeah, the Alpha didn’t like that one bit.
Too bad.
Dom obviously sensed the tension because he hauled ass to the door and clapped a hand on Remy’s shoulder.
“Come on,” he said, pushing Remy out the door. In a lower voice, he added, “Before you do something stupid.”
Lizette followed them out and pulled the door shut behind her. “Do you have any leftover pancakes?” She put a hand over her midsection. “I’m starving.”
Remy narrowed his eyes at them. “I know what you’re doing.”
“What are we doing?” All innocence, Lizette looked at Dom. “Are we doing something?”
“Keeping him out of the Pit,” Dom said.
“That’s not going to happen.” She gave Remy an expectant look. “Right?”
He stared at the closed door. “As long as he doesn’t scare her.” Because if he did, it wouldn’t matter that Max was Alpha. Deep in his mind, Remy’s wolf snarled its agreement. If anyone, Alpha or no, hurt Sophie, the wolf would risk worse than the Pit to help her. The pack’s jail didn’t frighten the beast. Although “jail” wasn’t really the right word for it. Carved out of the rock beneath the Lodge, the Pit was technically a basement—if such a word could be used to describe a cavernous space with twenty-foot ceilings supported by stone pillars. There was no electricity, just honest-to-goodness torches in ancient brass hooks. There was also a cage forged from steel so thick, no werewolf could escape it.
Lizette touched his arm, drawing his attention to her. “Max would never scare her, Remy. You know that.”
He dragged in a breath. His cousin was right. Max wasn’t a threat to Sophie. If anything, he was the best person to keep her safe.
In his mind’s eye, his wolf showed its teeth. The beast didn’t care if the Alpha was more powerful, or that he was already mated. It didn’t like Sophie in a room with another male.
