Rule of Claw: Wolves of Worsham #1

by Valerie Evans

“Maybe later,” he said before reaching around her to snag a book. “Is this any good? I find myself with an unexpected amount of free time currently.”

  Barely glancing to the cover, she replied, “Sure, if you’re into vampires doing a discounted version of Phantom of the Opera.”

  A non-committal sound came from him while he flipped through the pages. “I actually met real vampires several months ago,” he remarked, earning a look from her. “I’m not kidding. I ended up in some really weird places prior to coming back here, and vampires were part of the weird.”

  “And yet you tore yourself away from that excitement.”

  Returning a couple more books to the shelf, she turned her cart down the next row and paused to sort several books while being annoyed how easily he kept pace. “What do you want, Landon?”

  “I’m guessing spending time with you isn’t a good answer?” he asked, attempting charm from his smile. Instead of taking the bait, she only glared back at him. “You can’t ignore me forever.”

  “No, but I don’t have to interact with you outside of the tribunal or pack things.”

  She chose a new book from the cart, though just as she went to shelve it, she realized it was non-fiction among a cart of fiction. Scooting the cart to the side to avoid blocking any potential patrons, she headed back toward the front to replace the book, though again, Landon kept pace with her.

  “Seriously, Landon, this can constitute stalking,” she said without a break in stride or glance to him. The non-fiction section came into view yet as she went to slide the book in, a scrap of paper caught her attention. Reaching out, she tugged the page free then sighed at the flyer that greeted her, a giant red no sign covering another of those vicious werewolf drawings. “Here, too? Dammnit.”

  Doing a quick check of the remaining books in that section, noting all were related to weapons, she found another flyer and a page calling werewolves abominations who needed to be removed. Only when Landon questioned, “Do I even want to know?” did she remember he was there and glance up from the papers in her hand.

  “Do you?” she shot back, glancing at him.

  “I am curious,” he admitted before holding his hand out. The papers were passed over without a word, though she said nothing while he inspected them, curious to hear his thoughts. “You said here, too, so I take it these aren’t the only ones?”

  Imogene hesitated then admitted, “No, they’ve been appearing on the bulletin boards around town for a couple months, and I’ve collected more than my fair share of them. It just seemed like someone’s idea of a bad joke so I didn’t do anything other than remove them.”

  Landon’s brows rose. “Do the alphas know?”

  “Know, yes. Care, not quite,” she said before replacing the books on the shelf along with the one from the cart. “Look, I have to actually work, but if you want answers, talk to Matthew, okay? Melanie recommended Micah go to him since his connections are . . . different.”

  “Different?” His raised eyebrow accompanied the echo of her final word. “Why does that sound so ominous?”

  “Go see him and find out,” she suggested, already headed back to her cart. “I’ll even let you keep those, but please just go away, Landon.”

  “Fine, but I’ll be back to talk about what I learn from Matthew,” he promised. “And to convince you we should have lunch together.”

  “Don’t hold your breath,” she immediately replied to his retreating back.

  As much as she didn’t want it, Imogen felt that tiny part of herself that hoped he did come back spark to life and hated how stupidly naive she was to still care about Landon Miller when he’d left her so easily all those years ago.

  Chapter Eight

  Despite how calm he’d been about seeking out Matthew, Landon felt extremely nervous as he pulled into the driveway of the small, nondescript gray house with white trim and a small front porch Charlie had pointed him towards. It didn’t look much different than its neighbors except for the security cameras mounted on all four corners and the large shed in the backyard. A black Buick that had seen better days sat in the driveway and the garage door hung just above the halfway mark, exposing the meticulously organized contents within, though no sign of a person.

  He hadn’t gotten the chance for too much conversation during family dinner, and he didn’t know if the number he had still worked. However, he’d no sooner pulled into the driveway and cut the ignition when Matthew stepped out onto the porch, thick and tattooed forearms folded across his chest, and watched him with an impassive expression

  Removing his helmet, Landon hooked it to the back of the motorcycle then headed up the driveway. A lot remained the same about Matthew including his messy black hair and the small, round gauges in his ears, but he could tell the ink on his arms, largely black with pops of green, had grown all the way down to the wrists, something that hadn’t been visible with the long sleeves from their original reunion at the big house. The scowl that his neutrality shifted into looked familiar, though.

  “Charlie said you had questions?” The words were more gruff demand than actual question before turning away

  “Hi, Matthew. You’re looking snarky today,” Landon greeted as he followed him inside. One of Matthew’s feet pushed the door shut before he led the way into the kitchen. A familiar pair of faces at various ages and school years on the fridge caught his eyes, driving home the guilt for all he’d missed. “You must have every school picture they ever took.”

  Matthew barely glanced over. “I take my godfather duties seriously. The entire reason I bought this place was because it gave me extra rooms for double trouble to stay with me some weekends when they need a break from pack bullshit,” he said, already grabbing a pair of beers from the fridge and offering one. “If the questions are about your brother and my sister, I’m not discussing it, but anything else is fair game. You have two hours until Elliot and Eliana show up so talk fast if it isn’t suitable for young ears.”

  While curiosity about the immediate dismissal of the situation between Alexis and Tyler struck him, he forced himself to focus on the here and now. He’d have to find another source to get details whereas Imogene’s problem was likely to be met with less resistance and hopefully more answers.

  The papers from the library were removed and smoothed out before he passed them to Matthew, watching for a reaction.

  His brows nearly instantly furrowed, but Matthew didn’t say anything for a long time. Instead, he flipped through and scanned the pages then put them down without a word. A finger lifted before he left the kitchen only to return with a stack of more pages, similar in design yet different handwriting. Again, the over the top violence of the wolf graphic done in red stood out to Landon among the sea of black ink.

  “Where were these found?” Matthew questioned, lining them up in two short rows on the table.

  “Imogene found them in some books at the library,” Landon said as he twisted the top off his beer and tossed it aside. “Particularly books about guns, knives, and other weaponry.”

  Matthew gave a nod but said nothing, continuing to study the pages together. He made an occasional switch in their positions or skim of the information, though it felt like an eternity before he finally said, “I was hoping it was just kids playing pranks. Maybe a stupid senior prank, but they don’t usually start this early or last this long.”

  Landon frowned. “Imogene said Micah came to you about it?”

  Matthew took a drink from his beer and seemed to debate what to say then admitted, “Micah brought them to me, but I’d actually found them previously on my own. There’s a bar called The Red Stag I used to frequent where they’d turn up on the windshield, though no one inside knew anything, at least nothing they were going to tell me when I’d ask.”

  “But not Bordertown?” he questioned, leaning over to better see the papers.

  “Never anywhere that’s overly werewolf friendly,” Matthew said, gesturing toward one of the flyers. “And always somewh
ere a lot of people pass through without staying long-term. The weirdest part is it never gives details about a meeting or who to contact, but it’s obviously looking for like-minded people or new converts.”

  The recognition of what was weird about the flyers didn’t provide any more answers about them, though he did a quick double-check only to find Matthew was right. For all the talk about werewolves being abominations and getting rid of them, there were no real details provided about what to do or how to cause change. Going off Imogene’s timeline, this had been on-going for months with no resolution, but he couldn’t help wondering if it went back further with Matthew’s words.

  “What does Mom think about the flyers?” he questioned to cut off the assumptions going on in his head. “Or Scott?”

  Matthew hesitated then sighed. “Mel thinks it’s worth keeping an eye on, but until they do something problematic, she said just let them have their platform. Langford, on the other hand, had an entire tirade about humans knowing their place,” he almost growled, fingers tightening around the bottle. “It would have been more comical if he wasn’t such an asshat and didn’t whole-heartedly believe his own bullshit.”

  “I thought you didn’t go to anything pack related anymore?”

  “I don’t but Charlie sent me a video,” he explained before pushing back from the table. “Also Eliana but hers had dubbed a Disney villain monologue over it which, not going to lie, I still get a good laugh out of from time to time.”

  Landon laughed, quietly at that visual before sobering up to ask, “What do you think?”

  Only silence met the question while he picked up his bottle to take a drink then tapped his fingers against the side of it. Finally, Matthew looked up and admitted, “I think balances shift all the time and sometimes the rabbit gets tired of being chased. I can understand the mindset behind this kind of thing, especially as someone who’s lost a sibling to the pack.”

  “But you haven’t lost Alexis. She’s still there,” he pointed out.

  Matthew shook his head. “Part of her is, but she’s different, has been since she came back. Spare me the lecture about how the wolf is only a part of the person and not taking over because I’ve heard it from Mel, Charlie, and even Riley. It’s different when you’re turned.”

  “Says who?” Landon challenged, curious how often Matthew entertained these thoughts and who he might have said something to in years past.

  “Micah, and he has far more experience with turneds than any of you,” he replied as he finished off the beer. “Hell, all you have to do is look at any of his people against Langford’s and the difference is night and day.”

  Landon’s brows furrowed. “What about Langfords and us?”

  Matthew hesitated then shook his head. “You haven’t been back in town long enough for that conversation, but I owe Mel everything and Charlie’s my best friend. However, I’m not blind anymore, Landon, so I can understand the mindset even as I don’t subscribe to it. Tell Imogene I’m still looking into it.”

  As he exchanged final pleasantries and finished off his beer, Landon couldn’t help repeating a single phrase Matthew had used on a loop in his brain.

  I’m not blind anymore.

  Chapter Nine

  Much as she wanted to be annoyed, Imogene felt the smallest of happy butterflies in her stomach when she stepped out of the library for lunch to find Landon waiting. He leaned casually against his motorcycle with his arms folded over his chest, sunglasses on, though she felt like he could see straight through her. An involuntary smile started to creep up, but she pushed it down, reminding herself that he’d left her for twelve years without even a phone call or a postcard. It didn’t matter how much this felt like old times, like the boy she’d grown up with as her best friend. Neither of them were the same people.

  “Loitering is a crime,” she said, already heading down the steps and in the direction of her outdated Bronco. “Lucinda might call the cops just on principle.”

  “What if I’m waiting on someone?” His eyes stayed locked on her despite being hidden behind sunglasses as he added, “Like you.”

  Those stupid butterflies started flapping again, but she kept her face unaffected as she turned toward him. “I don’t want you here so that’s not possible.”

  Turning on her heel, she started for her car again, though she’d barely hit the button to unlock it when he called, “I talked to Matthew.” Against her instincts, she turned back to face him, arching a single eyebrow. “If you want to know what he said, have lunch with me.”

  A laugh escaped her. “Seriously? You’re using leverage about something I found to get your way? That’s low, Landon, even for you.”

  “Is it that hard to spend time with me, Immy?” His use of the familiar nickname splintered a section of her shield before he followed up with, “I’ll tell you where he found the others.”

  Imogene frowned at those words and wondered why nothing had been said about their existence. And if there were more flyers, where had they been hiding? Why hadn’t anyone mentioned more than the ones found at the library? While she wanted to blame mere curiosity tempting her into accepting his offer, she silently admitted part of her wanted to spend time with him, to see if that easy flow would come back between them.

  After a lengthy silence, she gave a sigh and said, “Fine, we can go to lunch, but this is a one time thing. Meet me at Red’s Diner in five.”

  Giving him no time to reply, she slid into her car and cursed the curiosity that had made her accept his offer. A quick text went to Letty that she wouldn’t be making their lunch date at the cabin, though she gave no details about why. An unhappy gif came back followed by a dancing taco, and she smiled as she drove the small distance over to Red’s Diner on the square containing multiple restaurants and small, locally owned businesses which had been around longer than she’d been alive. Red’s Diner served the best home cooked southern meals in town, and if she remembered correctly, it was chicken fried steak day which had always been her favorite.

  She told herself to blame instinct for checking the rearview and touching up her lipstick and not some need to impress Landon. Who cared what he thought of her anyway? A small part of her kept whispering if she’d known he’d turn up the library, she might have gone with something nicer than a frumpy sweater and black slacks that picked up every speck of dust; however, it was too late now, and she didn’t want to feed that part of herself anymore than she already had.

  Landon waited near the windows decorated with pictures of food when she got out then held the diner’s door open, allowing her to step inside first. He followed her over to the back away from the windows then sank into the leather booth, long legs stretched out.

  In an attempt to avoid accidental contact, Imogene tucked her feet back under the seat yet still found herself overly aware of his closeness. His hands grabbed a menu while she told herself not to think about those long fingers and how they’d felt against her skin, in her hair, or laced through her own. An uncomfortable feeling settled in her chest so she grabbed her own menu and flipped through despite knowing exactly what she planned to order.

  Smiling as one of the waitresses stopped by, she gave her drink and food order in one breath while Landon continued to look over the menu. It hadn’t undergone too many changes in his absence, but it felt like forever before he placed his order and the waitress left them alone again within the small booth.

  “The flyers?” she questioned after a lengthy silence. “You said you’d tell me about the other ones Matthew found.”

  He continued to study her in silence for a minute then said, “He mentioned a bar that he frequented while on a break from Bordertown, said it’s not wolf heavy.”

  “The Red Stag.” Imogene’s words were spoken without thought, though at his raised eyebrows she continued, “It’s the only bar in town that outright refuses service to wolves. I’m kind of surprised Matthew would be in a place like that given his connection to the lot of you plus Alexis’ posit
ion.”

  Landon’s troubled expression said he’d thought about it, too, though he seemed hesitant to voice his thoughts. He seemed to be thinking which made her wonder if Matthew had said something else; however, the waitress’ arrival with drinks gave him a reprieve from answering.

  Imogene took a drink from her glass while she waited, observing the people coming and going outside the window nearest their booth. Familiar faces were visible, but she did nothing more than raise a hand in greeting from behind the glass.

  “He said he understands the mindset even if he doesn’t subscribe to it,” he finally said as he swirled ice with his straw in the usual way. “Apparently things with Alexis have changed how he sees us.”

  Despite the years that had passed and the silence that had grown, Imogene itched to reach out to cover his hand with hers, to recover that closeness with the stranger opposite her. She tucked her hands underneath her thighs to prevent the action from being followed through on and pushed down the sentimentality.

  She nodded, and pointed out, “It’s a pretty big adjustment, and the way things went down with him and Tyler are pretty legendary.”

  “What do you mean?” Landon asked, pausing in his stirring. “No one will give me details about anything related to them.”

  She hesitated then decided he deserved a clear picture of the mess things had become in his absence. “It happened at Bordertown, a couple weeks after the bite but before Alexis’ first full moon, and a lot of the pack members were there,” she said, not admitting that it had been by design. “Matthew was drinking at the bar with Charlie when Tyler came in, before the council figured out his punishment, and things . . . escalated.”

  The look from Landon said he wanted far more details so she forced herself to continue, “He asked if anyone had seen Alexis and Matthew snapped, said he’d done enough and that he should stay away from her. You can imagine how well that went.” Her brows furrowed as she replayed the scene in her head. “I guess Charlie figured exchanging a few blows would help them get over things and move forward, but . . .”