Felicia took Enrique’s hand when she smelled his old, soured anger, even over the alcohol. “How badly were you hurt when you tried to take the fight to them all on your own?” Enrique was more than old enough to be the protector, not the protected, unless he’d gone and done something stupid. His wordless growl was enough to confirm her guess. “You really think I’m going to help you do that again?”
Enrique jerked his shoulders in a shrug and pulled his hand away. “It doesn’t have to be a head-on attack. Just something besides hiding in the city.” He held his bottle against his chest, as if to shield himself from her wrath. “I want you there because you’re you, though. Not just for that. You’re not angry, are you?” Enrique glared down at his bottle, as if it was the one that had just spilled the secret.
Was she angry? Felicia cradled her bottle more contemplatively. Thinking in straight lines took concentration at the moment. She was sure she had the truth now, at least. And she knew she didn’t want to support Enrique in that fight, or even send him back to it alone.
But he was here now. She’d liked North American life when she got to know it. If he stayed for a while, maybe he’d start to come around to appreciating North America too, especially if she gave him a shove or two. Life back home in Madrid sounded like shit, so why shouldn’t he settle here? She’d show him all the good things about North America that she’d discovered. And if he stayed, he’d be around to commiserate about the North American idiosyncrasies that no one else saw.
Meanwhile, she needed to be subtle about her real motives. Wait quietly enough, for long enough, and your prey will walk right by, Madrid had often told her when he was teaching her to hunt. It had seemed a stupid strategy at the time. Only later had she grown enough to see the less literal meanings.
“I’m not angry with you. It’s not going to work, but I’m not going to tell on you or anything.” Felicia paused, maybe a little extra long, as she considered that. That sounded pretty good. No hint of her ulterior motive. She wagged a finger in his face. “Don’t think you can wear me down, though!” Hopefully he’d think just that and stick around so she could do it to him instead. She toasted him with her bottle and tossed back some generous swallows to celebrate her decision.
Enrique pushed away from the car, relief showing clear in his expression and scent. “Enough talking, anyway. Let’s go run.”
Balancing to get undressed was a little difficult, but Felicia found a tree to lean against and managed it. They had to be well into the trees anyway, to avoid the risk of being seen from the road or parking lot. She took one last swallow from her bottle and then nestled it carefully on top of the pile of her clothes.
Enrique had already shifted, and he trotted over, darkly gray and shadowed to match the evening. Shifting made the alcohol sit badly in Felicia’s stomach, but the nausea settled out once she was safely on four feet. She still felt warm and silly. Enrique led the way in an easy lope, and Felicia bumbled after. She couldn’t laugh in this form, but she panted in amusement. She’d never actually catch any prey like this.
She wondered what Enrique was thinking. A line of red cedar or hemlock trunk here and a tangle of encroaching blackberry there felt familiar after seeing many like them while living here for three years, and she was in no state to note details. It was home to her, but of course it would be strange to Enrique.
Enrique seemed intent on something, though it wasn’t prey, because he ignored several promising trails they crossed. As Felicia’s head cleared a little, she realized he was paralleling the road that twisted up the side of the nearest hill. Cars flashed past regularly, the two-lane highway probably providing access to any number of expensive homes buried up in the trees. Enrique paused on the top of a slope down to the ditch flanking the pavement and watched the cars for a while. Most of them came down far too fast, enjoying the speed of the hill and trusting their fancy technology to keep them on the curves. Felicia flumped down beside him, muzzle on her paws. This was boring. What was he doing, counting them?
Without warning, Enrique jogged along the slope until it offered a diagonal trail down to the pavement. He waited, ears pricked, until a car growled around the curve immediately above them. Then, as its headlights swept down onto them, he dashed across the road. Brakes squealed, and the car slewed wildly into the oncoming lane as the driver panicked, but there was no sound of impact.
Felicia felt like her heart stopped. In her imagination, she saw Tom’s expression of canine shock as the car zoomed around the bend toward him instead. She hadn’t actually seen that moment, but it clawed at her voice anyway.
Over on the other side, Enrique looked fine, of course. When her thoughts started moving again, Felicia realized he’d been gauging the cars’ speeds carefully earlier. He’d had this planned to the split second and looked mightily pleased with himself, tongue hanging out as he panted.
The sound of another engine interrupted from above them, and Enrique jerked his head in invitation for her to take her turn at the game. Her father or any other older Were would be Lady-darkened furious that they were showing themselves to humans, but any teen knew that humans saw monsters in the dark all the time. Catch the light on your eyes and run away before they could do more than grasp your size, and no one was hurt.
But she was in no mood to play along. Not this time. Not with Tom’s expression in her mind. Besides, the driver who had seen Enrique might turn around and come back. They should get out of here. Felicia headed into the trees, toward her clothes. Enough.
Enrique arrived when she’d shifted back and was frowning at the bottle she’d lifted off her clothes. She’d liked the part of the evening where she’d been drunk better, but that wasn’t really just because of the alcohol.
Enrique shifted and came up to kiss the back of her neck, hands on her shoulders. He chuckled. “They’ll be calling the local news right now, screeching about the … what would it be here, the chupacabra?”
Felicia rolled her shoulders to dislodge his touch and swigged from her bottle. “Bigfoot, up here. Well, Bigfoot’s dog, maybe.” He kissed her again, in the curve between shoulder and neck this time, and she twisted to face him. Now she was starting to feel embarrassed about her strong reaction back there. Enrique hadn’t been in any danger, and she wouldn’t have been either. She was plenty fast enough to outrun a car she was expecting. “I don’t … like playing with cars right now, okay?”
“Okay.” Enrique said it easily enough, eyes on her face. He touched her bottle, and she took the suggestion, finishing it in a couple gulps. Then he took it away from her, set it down, and kissed her deeply.
It was a great kiss, or maybe the alcohol hit her bloodstream right then, but Felicia tingled all over. She felt vaguely like she’d been more conflicted about Enrique’s gorgeousness sober, but her whole body throbbed with the attraction to his scent surrounding her now.
She shoved him against the papery bark of a red cedar trunk and devoured his mouth. Why not? He was hot, and he wanted her. And she bet he wouldn’t run away even if her father did show up this minute and forbid him. Not like stupid Tom. Enrique brought his hands up, smoothed her hair, tangled fingers in the waves.
And he didn’t try to get away.
Felicia pulled back from the kiss, though not away from her press against his body, and tried muzzily to pin down the instinct that made her hesitate. Playing chase was no fun if the other person just sat there, waiting for it. Was he not actually that interested in her?
Or was he too interested? His scent made it seem like he was so ready for them to have sex that he wasn’t bothering with the chasing part. That made Felicia uneasy, though she couldn’t really put her finger on why.
Whether or not she knew why, it completely killed her mood. She shook her head and put a hand on his chest to push away from him. “You’re not going anywhere, are you? We don’t have to do everything tonight. Leave something for later.”
Enrique growled under his breath, but he turned frustration i
nto humor with a smile after a beat. “If you don’t want to scare the humans, what do you want to do, then?”
She tried hard to think, but the alcohol was hitting in earnest. Her thoughts kept flitting away like butterflies. She needed to catch one, and the image of herself snapping her jaws after them made her laugh again. “Let’s go dancing!”
Enrique held out his arms, striking a pose from the Were version of flamenco. Felicia shoved his chest. “No, in a club, stupid. Come on!”
Enrique pulled a face. “With humans? I know North Americans are weird, but that’s too much.”
Felicia shoved him again. “That’s what I thought at first too, but it’s actually a lot of fun. You have to at least try it before you make up your mind.” She looked at him with a parody of an imploring expression that hadn’t really worked on anyone since she was six, and he snorted and nodded. She grinned. Now, this would be fun!
Getting dressed and back to the car took awhile and a little more alcohol. When she tried to get into the driver’s seat, Enrique chuckled a little worriedly and swung her away. “No, none of that. Tell me how to get there.”
“You were drinking too,” Felicia said after several moments of intense thought. It was like those stupid commercials on TV about drunk-driving accidents, she realized. She’d never paid attention when she’d thought she couldn’t get drunk.
“And I’m used to it. A drunk werewolf’s reaction times are pretty near a sober human’s, but that doesn’t help if you make stupid decisions.” Enrique tweaked her chin and guided her to the passenger seat. “Okay, let’s go find this club of yours.”
8
When Silver welcomed Portland to her home this time, she dispensed with the formal greeting and motioned her inside. Susan had turned Edmond over to one of the teens to watch for the evening, and she stood close to Silver’s shoulder, supportive as any Were beta would be.
“Did you find somewhere comfortable to stay?” Silver asked the question but didn’t pay attention to Portland’s answer. She watched Craig instead, to read his manner going into this meal. He stood farther back from his alpha than Susan did to Silver, evidence of Portland’s displeasure with him, probably expressed at length in private. His confidence remained, however, clear in the prick of his wild self’s ears. He’d gone into this expecting that it would be a long, rough chase, Silver was sure. Well, she and Susan would do what they could to guide him off that chase, rather than providing the obstacles he expected.
The sound of someone wanting to speak at a distance interrupted them once more, making Silver grit her teeth. This time, Susan spoke to whoever it was. “She wants to see the Roanoke?” Susan sighed where a Were would have growled and looked at Silver, eyebrows slightly raised. “Sacramento flew in to see you. Does she have permission?”
“How coincidental.” Death grinned. Silver didn’t need him to raise her suspicions. One female sub-alpha was dealing with a petition that could loosely be said to bear on her gender, and suddenly the other female sub-alpha shows up?
Silver speared Portland with a look. “You told her about the petition?”
Portland’s head and her wild self’s tail dropped. “I spoke to her, but only because I wanted her perspective.” She brought her head up to bolster the sincerity in her scent. “I never imagined she would decide to come up here. Roanoke, I am so sorry.”
Silver hesitated, lips pressed tightly together. She didn’t need another dominant personality in this situation, especially one as volatile as Sacramento could be when she thought she needed to defend her position as a female alpha. Silver could readily believe that coming up had entirely been Sacramento’s own bad idea.
But that volatility seemed like a reason to keep Sacramento close now she knew about the petition. She could easily polarize the issue and prompt one of the more traditional male alphas to be the first to declare independence, if Silver didn’t handle her carefully. Having her close would give Silver the opportunity to channel her away from anything rash. “As long as she’s here, I will see her.” Silver changed her focus to speak to Susan directly rather than passing a message through her. “Is there time for her to arrive before the meal is ready?”
Susan nodded. “She can just make it. Have her hurry up,” she added at a distance to the patroller who had found Sacramento, then dropped her hand. She smiled wanly at Silver. “I’d better make sure they set another place.” Susan slipped farther into the den to deal with the food.
Awkward silence reigned over drinks as Silver sat with the others and the meal’s components grew slowly into harmony in the scents surrounding them. Silver had intended to use this time to steer the conversation to Susan’s experiences, but now she was scrambling for neutral topics. She silently urged the food to cook faster, but of course they couldn’t begin until Sacramento arrived anyway.
Now she knew Craig was the father, she wondered how she’d missed it before. Protectiveness oozed from him, and every time Portland moved, his attention snapped back to her, checking and rechecking for new threats.
A knock sounded and Silver pushed herself up. Portland and her beta followed Silver to the front door. Susan opened it and Sacramento strode in, completely ignoring her. “Roanoke,” she said, and dropped her head with barely the respect necessary for Silver to not toss her out in the dirt again.
Sacramento was as rigidly controlled in her appearance as ever, perhaps in overreaction to the empty-headed beauty-obsessed part Silver had heard she’d played before she assumed the alphaship in her own name. Her blond hair was pulled too tightly back, making her face stark and hard even at rest. Her wild self snarled and snapped at Craig’s.
Her tame self stopped in front of Craig. “I hear you think no woman can be an alpha and also have a child,” she said, and caught his eyes to measure their dominance. She was tall enough she hardly had to tilt her head. Craig snarled back.
“Sacramento.” Silver closed her fingers onto Sacramento’s upper arm, digging fingertips in until bruises formed and healed like little stains under the pressure of her hold. Sacramento had no right to challenge Craig over this, that was usurping Roanoke’s authority. “You forget yourself.” She tugged downward until Sacramento took the hint and went to one knee.
“Oh, go the rest of the way and cast her out for her presumption.” Death laughed. “Might teach her a lesson. Might also turn her against you and your mate’s authority. Never know.” He shook his ruff until it settled down to look exactly as it had before, bottomless black on black.
“Portland was at fault for mentioning this issue to you.” Silver’s glance at the other sub-alpha must have been as furious as she felt, because Portland dropped to her knee too. Craig followed, as etiquette required. “When I told her beta to mention it to no one, she was not excepted.” Silver focused on Sacramento again. “But you have no right to enter so disrespectfully. Do not compound your fault in this further. It is not your place to speak to Portland’s beta about it.”
Sacramento dropped her head. “Roanoke.” This time, properly respectful. A start, at least.
Death snorted. “And how long will that last?”
Silver set her hand on the back of Sacramento’s neck and squeezed, fingers digging in briefly to remind the sub-alpha of her authority. Only then did she allow Sacramento to stand. “You’re just in time for the meal.”
As Silver led them all in to eat, Sacramento tried to get Portland to hang back for a private word with a touch on the other woman’s arm. Portland shook her head, lips thin, and pulled away. She went in with Craig.
When they were seated, Susan arrived with the last dish of food. Silver was too busy watching everyone to appreciate all the scents now matured to deliciousness, but they at least blunted the edge of Sacramento’s anger and embarrassment. Silver felt not a drop of sympathy. If Sacramento didn’t want her alpha angry at her, she shouldn’t have sprinted forward on a chase without considering where it led.
Susan set the dish for Silver to choose her own po
rtion, then lifted it to portion it out for the others. Susan hesitated, and Silver casually angled the first two fingers of the hand resting on the table toward Portland. Portland had held the position of alpha longer, though there was no official difference in rank among the sub-alphas. One had to decide an order at group events somehow. Susan gave the two sub-alphas about equal portions without further hesitation.
When Susan settled into her seat and Craig’s plate remained empty, he winced but didn’t seem truly embarrassed until Sacramento smirked. Craig’s wild self snapped at hers, and Silver braced herself to say something, but Portland nudged her plate close to his without hesitation and transferred a generous portion over. Craig subsided.
Portland broke the awkward silence first. “Have you heard from Roanoke Dare about how things are going in Alaska?” Craig’s head came up and Portland frowned him down. He wanted to know what Dare thought about his petition, of course, but Silver suspected from her frustration that Portland hadn’t intended the question to be about that, so Silver answered it rather than growling at them.
“He’s too far to hear calls at the moment,” she said. She ate slowly, too distracted to pay attention to the taste. “I assume earning the mother’s trust will take time, in any case.”
“The mother? I heard he’d gone to Alaska, but not what for.” Sacramento said, leaning cautiously forward to see Silver better around Portland.
“One of the pack sired a child without realizing it. Dare has gone up to talk the mother into some solution.”
“Or kill her,” Death contributed. While everyone ate, he gutted a rabbit of his own with dignified deliberateness.
Silver ignored Death. “So, as I say, he’ll need to earn her trust. I don’t expect him back soon.”
“Lady above, I don’t understand why Were men can’t refuse a game of chase when it comes to human women,” Sacramento grumbled. “They’re so awkward when they can’t smell what you enjoy.”
Reflected Page 9
