by Erin M. Leaf
She sighed. “Fletcher, you know I love you. And you know there’s nothing we can do. Sometimes our instincts trump what we want.” She shrugged. “We’re wolves, not humans. You know this.” She smiled wryly. “In fact, you know this better than I do. You’re the one who visited all those other packs.”
Fletcher grimaced. Some of the places he’d been weren’t very pleasant.
“It won’t be forever.” His father strode over to him. “Hug?”
Fletcher rolled his eyes. “I’m not six anymore, Dad.”
His father laughed and pulled him into a rough embrace. Fletcher leaned into him, surprised to find that he stood a couple inches taller. He smells the same, though, he thought, trying to fix the familiar scent of home and safe and father in his mind, and then suddenly, shockingly, his wolf snarled, and he gasped, trying to keep from abruptly shifting, or even worse, attacking. His father growled back, in a tone Fletcher had never heard before. He tensed, and then his father’s Alpha power swept over him in a hard, unpleasant wave. In the past, especially when he’d been a teen and first dealing with his wolf’s dominance, that power had calmed him. Helped him. This time, nothing nearly so benign happened. His wolf growled long and low, and then he rushed to the surface. Fletcher jerked away, out of his father’s grip as his own Alpha power swept out of him.
Mitch leaped up, grabbing Fletcher’s arms. “Pull it back, Fletcher. You know what this is,” he said in a low, hard voice. “We don’t want any bloodshed in the kitchen, right?”
Fletcher shook his head, fighting his power. His wolf wanted to rip his father to shreds, and the feeling of dominance fighting with his familial love hurt like hell. “Fuck,” he said roughly, not caring that his mother was in the room.
“Fletcher, it’s okay,” Avery said, stepping up in front of him. “Here.” She held out her wrist to him.
Fletcher grabbed it, burying his nose in her skin. She smelled sweet and musky and fucking perfect. He latched onto her scent, using it to calm his beast. “Avery,” he managed to say, not knowing what else she could do, but he knew he held on by the most fragile of threads right now.
She moved closer, then plastered herself against his front. “It’s okay, Fletcher. Everything’s okay,” she repeated.
Fletcher leaned his face against hers. Mitch moved in behind him, and the familiar warmth of his best friend calmed him further.
His father stepped back and around the table, teeth clenched. Fletcher’s mother stood in front of him, wrist up at his face. He took a deep breath against her skin, and then moved her to the side. “This is why we have to leave, Fletcher.” He gestured to himself. His eyes were completely golden, now, and Fletcher knew his father was having trouble containing his beast. “My wolf will lose to yours, and I have no desire to end up dead. I have no desire to put that guilt on you, either.” He flashed a tight smile at Fletcher’s mother. “And your mother would never forgive me for letting the situation get that far out of hand.”
Fletcher inhaled deeply, then let it out again. His wolf receded further. “You did that on purpose,” he accused his father.
“Of course I did,” his father said. His eyes weren’t as golden, and Fletcher’s mother had moved in and put a hand on his arm. “You needed to feel it to truly understand the danger.” He rolled his shoulders and smiled again, more easily this time. “I don’t want to fight with my son, especially not when I’m so damned proud of you.”
Fletcher shook his head, relaxing his muscles one by one. “Shit.” He rubbed his face. “You don’t fight fair, Dad.”
His father laughed. “No, I do not.” He stepped forward as if to hug Fletcher, then shook his head and sat down again instead. “Sit. Eat. No more dominance games at the breakfast table, eh? It makes a mess.”
Fletcher chuckled. “I have to agree. That was … unpleasant.” He sat down, kissing Avery’s hand to reassure her that he was okay. Her expression eased, and he helped her back into her chair. “So, you’re leaving today? I understand why, but I don’t have to like it.”
His father nodded. “We’ll be taking it slow until we’re sure all the kinks are worked out of the RV. We have a good friend out near Pittsburgh who we’ve been meaning to go visit. We’ll stay there tonight.”
Fletcher picked up his cup and took a sip of his coffee, then grimaced. It was cold. “Any words of advice before you leave?”
“Only the usual stuff.” His father tilted his head. “Trust your instincts. You have good ones.”
“Trust my instincts?” Fletcher lifted his eyebrows. “If I’d done that, we’d both be bleeding right now.”
His father snorted. “You know what I mean.” He nodded thanks to Fletcher’s mother as she poured him more coffee. “We’ll keep in touch. You have my email address and my phone number. It’s not like the old days, when the old Alpha had to take off for a year and sometimes didn’t come back.” He smiled. “That sucked. I worried about your grandfather for months. When he came back, he had a tattoo, an earring, and a lot of insane stories. He was not the quite same person who’d left.”
Fletcher laughed out loud at that. He remembered his grandfather being a rascal. “I guess that makes sense. I hadn’t ever really thought of him being an Alpha, but he was, before you took over. That must have been weird.”
“Weird isn’t the word I’d choose,” his father muttered, subsiding when Fletcher’s mother gave him a look.
Fletcher suppressed another laugh. His father might be an Alpha, but his mother had a lot of say in things, and always had. “What about Uncle Marcus?”
“What about him?” his father asked.
“He’s used to being the Beta of the pack, but I already have someone for that position.” He looked at Mitch. “I don’t think I could work with Uncle Marcus the way the pack needs, at least not in the long run.”
“Your uncle is entirely okay with just running the Sanctuary. He’s not a Beta the way Mitch here is. He’s a strong wolf, but he’s not bonded to me the way you are with Mitch.” Fletcher’s father gave Avery a look. “Or the way you’re both bonded with Avery.”
Well, that answers that question, Fletcher thought, amused when Avery blushed. He knows. And that means Mom knows, too. “I see.”
His father picked up his cup, then made a face at the cold coffee and set it back down again. “Marcus will be stepping down soon enough from running the Sanctuary, too. I believe Lillian said something about wanting to go to Europe.” He smiled at Avery. “And Avery has the experience and skills to run it well. You might as well put that degree of yours to good use, my dear.”
“Oh, wow. I hadn’t thought about taking over the Sanctuary,” Avery said, surprise clear in her voice.
“You’re the right person for the job,” Fletcher’s father said. “Marcus is expecting it.”
Fletcher’s eyebrows went up. “You’re all leaving us?”
His father rolled his eyes. “You’re entirely capable of running the family business, so to speak.”
Fletcher glanced at Avery, and then at Mitch. His mates were powerful wolves, and his mother wasn’t, but he knew that ultimately, the final decision in any crisis would still fall on him. He’d be able to lean on them more than his father could lean on his Beta and wife, though, and for that he was immensely grateful. He observed his father touch his mother’s arm gently, and wondered how his father knew about the bond he and Mitch and Avery shared. It wasn’t like it was obvious. They didn’t walk around with a tattoo on their foreheads that shouted their unique triad status to the world, after all.
“Don’t worry, I have no intention of staying away forever, Fletcher,” his mother said. She looked at him squarely, and then very deliberately looked at Avery, eyes twinkling. “I have so much to look forward to here. Maybe some grandchildren will come along, and I’m not staying away when that happens.”
Fletcher felt his face heat, which was ridiculous. Oh, she’s enjoying this, he thought, fighting the urge to squirm in his seat. “I think you’re getting a b
it ahead of things, Mom,” he said, knowing she was just teasing. She’ll have to wait until we’re ready, though. He knew that meant Mitch, as well as him and Avery. It was likely that Avery would be bearing both his and Mitch’s children, not that he’d bother to differentiate. He glanced at his best friend, and Mitch met his gaze with a bit of embarrassment, and a great deal of affection.
“So, trust my instincts?” Fletcher asked his father, trying to redirect the conversation back to something useful.
“Yes. And maybe check out the archives, when you get a chance. That might help you out a lot,” his father said, standing up to clear the table. “In fact, I expect it will help you more than it helped me.” He began stacking dishes in the dishwasher. “Lucky for you, Lillian has a good grasp on converting the genealogy records to electronic format.”
Fletcher got up and began to help him clear the table. “I need to get to know the pack before I dive into old history, I think,” he said, crouching down to retrieve the dishwasher detergent. He handed it to his father, then leaned back against the counter. He liked seeing his mother and Avery sitting together. He met Mitch’s glance and grinned. It felt like old times, only better, because now they had Avery.
His father nodded agreeably. “I don’t think you’ll have any trouble dealing with the pack, except maybe for one or two of the younger members. And Mitch’s grandmother might be difficult, but you both already know that. What you don’t know is that she seems to have formed a friendship with Avery’s father, and that’s something to watch closely.”
“My father?” Avery asked, sounding appalled.
Fletcher’s father grimaced. “Yes. There’s some old history with those two that I haven’t been able to figure out, so, that’ll be your first challenge, I think.” He closed the dishwasher and pressed the start button. “There are a few young wolves that you might have to handle carefully, and one or two older folk that are set in their ways, but I have full confidence in you.” He clapped a hand on Fletcher’s shoulder, strong and reassuring, but he removed it fast enough to keep from triggering his wolf’s aggression. “You’re exactly what the pack needs, Fletcher.”
Fletcher understood all the things his father wasn’t saying, and knowing that he had his father’s trust only made him wish the older man was staying even more. “Thanks, Dad,” he said, voice rough.
His father smiled, and Fletcher smiled back, and for a moment, their wolves looked at each other from down the long tunnel of their minds in perfect agreement. Fletcher nodded, then stepped back. “You’re going to have a good time,” he said, touching his mother’s shoulder.
She put a hand on his, squeezing lightly. “We will.”
“I let the pack know that we’d be going and you are taking over,” Fletcher’s father told him.
“How did they take it?” Mitch asked.
“Pretty well. The older ones knew it was coming, so they’re fine with it.” Fletcher’s father chuckled. “The young pups in their teens were a bit surprised, but they’ll deal.” He glanced at Avery. “We had a few wolves take off.”
Like Avery’s loser ex, not that he’s any great loss. Fletcher sat back down between Avery and Mitch, needing their closeness right now. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Dad.”
His father shook his head. “I did it for you, true, but I also did it for Boulder Pack. I’m their Alpha right up until the moment I drive away tonight.” He smiled wryly. “It’s a pity that we don’t have any sort of handing over ceremony, but you understand why, right? Our wolves aren’t that civilized. It’s best to ease them into the transition.”
For the first time Fletcher realized that for all his father’s insistence that he was looking forward to his retirement, it was still going to be a hard change for him. “I know I don’t say this often enough, but I really love you, Dad.”
“I love you, too, and I’m proud of the man you’ve become, Fletcher.” His father brushed a quick hand over his eyes. “Okay, enough with the sappy shit. My heart can’t take it.”
Mitch laughed, and Fletcher grinned, then leaned over and kissed Avery on her perfect, beautiful cheek. He wasn’t looking forward to his parents’ leaving, but he knew that everything would be okay. He had two of the best mates he could ever ask for, and he had plenty of experience in dealing with people and wolves from the past fifteen years of traveling.
Yeah, we got this, he thought, allowing himself the tiniest bit of pride.
Chapter Nine
Fletcher stared at the broken cabinet and cursed himself for being a damned fool. The past week had been one disaster after another, mostly because the older females in the pack wouldn’t accept Avery as his mate. Not to mention that he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Avery’s ex since he’d trashed her cabin, and he didn’t have the time to hunt the bastard down and make him pay. That was enough to make him cranky, but now this happened. It was early Friday evening, but he felt as though it were ten o’clock at night. He was tired. Mitch was tired. Avery was tired. All he wanted to do was go to bed and sleep, and instead they had to deal with this shit.
“Well, fuck,” he said, running a hand through his hair. He reached out and opened the door. This was the archives cabinet, and he should feel some sort of compulsion to not touch it. Some kind of power, or lock, or even residual energy, but he felt … nothing. Absolutely nothing kept his hand away from the iron latch. A Witch wolf had spelled it for protection centuries ago, but whatever she’d created was now gone. Destroyed. And that particular talent power had died out, so there was no way for him to have the protection recast, even if he had anything to protect. He swung open the door and sighed as the empty shelves greeted his glare. This happened because I’m a cocky bastard and Karma is a bitch, he thought, flushing with anger and embarrassment. Five days ago, he thought he could handle anything, but this week had proven him wrong in oh so many ways.
“So much for an easy transition,” Mitch said dryly, leaning against the wall. “That’ll teach us.”
They were in the basement storage room. Everyone in the pack knew the room existed, but most of the members thought it was simply to store odds and ends of furniture and old pack memorabilia. Only a select few knew that the Pack’s archives were down here. “Ignorance means safety,” Fletcher’s father had said on more than one occasion, but now Fletcher questioned that idea. It certainly hadn’t worked for him. He glanced around the dusty, dimly lit room and growled under his breath.
“Yeah. Ain’t it just poetic justice?” Fletcher shook his head and stood up. “Is Avery still trying to sort out the squabble between your grandmother and my Aunt Lillian?” He could use her level-headed advice right now, but he wasn’t going to interrupt her if she was once again trying to get Mitch’s grandmother to stop arguing over Lillian’s insistence that Avery was the head female in the Pack. He didn’t know why his Aunt Lillian was so insistent on Bridget’s submission, but it had thrown them all for a loop when she’d first brought it up this past Monday. Maybe she wants Uncle Marcus to retire as Sanctuary head sooner rather than later. He’s already stepped down as Beta, so she’s no longer the ranking pack female, but she does a lot of stuff at the Sanctuary, too. He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. It was getting long, but he had no time to cut it.
Mitch grimaced. “Yeah, she’s still up there with them. And it looks like she might be losing tonight’s battle. My grandmother can be a perfect bitch sometimes. She always hated your mother, and her own lack of status. She complained about it constantly to my dad, and then to me.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “My grandmother is antagonizing Lillian, and as the former Beta’s wife, Lillian isn’t backing down. I told my grandmother that she would have to deal with Avery as head female, but she was having none of it. She seems to think that as my grandmother, she has higher status now that I’m your Beta. She’s been hanging out with Avery’s father, too, so her obstinacy over this is doubly weird. You’d think both Kurt and my grandmother would know better. It’s not lik
e they’re new to how pack politics works.”
“There’s something weird about Kurt that I can’t put my finger on,” Fletcher said, frowning. “He doesn’t smell right.”
“He’s never smelled like Avery’s father to me,” Mitch said.
Fletcher grimaced. “Me neither, but it’s not like we can check the genealogy records, can we? They’re missing, and the electronic database is incomplete.” He gestured to the broken cabinet. “I don’t know why Avery doesn’t shift and put an end to all the shit the females have been giving her,” Fletcher said, exasperated. “I suggested it to her, and she almost snapped my head off.”
“She wants them to respect her for herself, not because she’s a dominant wolf,” Mitch explained again.
It still didn’t convince Fletcher. The only reason he was Alpha was because of a genetic quirk. Avery’s status as a Queen was just as random as his status as the pack’s leader, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t fit for the job. Far from it.
“Werewolf packs run on instinct. They think she’s weak because their wolves are idiots. One shift on her part would end all of that,” Fletcher argued.
“I know that, and you know that.” Mitch shrugged. “But Avery wasn’t on walkabout with us, Fletcher. She didn’t see all the pack wars that we did. And she’s a female. They’re used to talking things out, not fighting. Well, mostly not fighting.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Honestly? I think she’s more scared than she lets on. She hasn’t shifted since the first time, when we bonded. And pushing her isn’t going to help. She needs to discover her own strength. She can’t lead until she knows who she is. You know how many status and dominance fights we saw that led to bloodshed.”
Fletcher made a face. He well remembered that one pack in France where two females shifted and went at each other with great violence, and it seemed Mitch did, too.
“Avery knows we’ll support her, whatever she chooses to do,” Mitch said, and then he crouched down and examined the empty cabinet shelves. “Well, isn’t this just a bitch and a half, eh?” He looked up at Fletcher. “We can’t seem to catch a break, this week.”
