by Vivian Wood
She leveled him with her sea-green gaze, her lips pursed. Without a word, Genny made it clear that the plans he’d laid before her only three days ago did not meet with her approval. In more usual circumstances, Josiah deferred to Genny in matters of child rearing and social issues. Boys would be boys, and grown or no, his sons were a wild bunch better left to their mother’s care.
Unfortunately, today was not the usual circumstance. Josiah set his cigar aside, reckoning that Genny had something on her mind. His mate wasn’t one to hold back her feelings, not from him anyway. Plain speaking had always one of the keys to the health of their mateship.
“Gen,” Josiah said, pushing up out of his chair. His bones creaked as he rose, but he ignored the twinge of pain. He might be ailing and aging, but damn if he wasn’t going to get to his feet whenever his beautiful mate entered the room.
“Sit down,” she waved him off, cocking her hip to lean against the door frame. “You barely slept last night, or the night before. I want you to rest. Remission doesn’t mean you get to go back to the way things were before, burning the candle at both ends and running yourself into the ground. You’re going to take it easy, just like Dr. Canning told you to. I’m not ready to be rid of you yet.”
Genny crossed her arms and gave him her most no-nonsense look, a formidable expression indeed. Josiah opened his mouth to argue, but forty years of mateship made him shut it again. He pinched the bridge of his nose, nodding as he admitted the truth to himself. He was tired, without a doubt.
“Joe,” Genny prompted him after a moment.
He looked up, apologetic. He couldn’t help but smile, thinking that his mate was the only person in his life that got to see this easygoing, neutral side of him. As Alpha, there was little time for socializing outside his family, and no room for weakness or submission. Genny was the only soft spot in his life, the only person in the world that Josiah Beran yielded to on any matters of importance.
“Who are we waiting on?” he asked, changing the subject.
“Well, let’s see,” Genny said, ticking off her sons on her fingers. “Luke and Gavin are out in the stables, moving some tack around for me. Noah and Cameron are in town picking up groceries, seeing as we don’t have the kind of stock to feed seven of you. Finn is at the airport, just waiting…”
She trailed off, but Josiah knew just what she meant.
“Waiting on Wyatt. Of course he is,” Josiah groused. “We don’t even know if Wyatt’s coming or not.”
Wyatt was the second oldest of their sons and the most stubborn, too independent to see past his own nose. Finn was the youngest, gentler than his brothers, and one of the few people that Wyatt allowed to get close. That Finn should be at the airport, waiting patiently for Wyatt’s potential arrival, spoke volumes about their relationship.
“You quit ragging on Finn,” Genny piped up, defending her youngest son. “Just because you’ve given up on Wyatt doesn’t make Finn a fool. I’ll have you know that Wyatt actually called me to let me know he’s arriving this afternoon.”
“Does Finn know that?” Josiah asked, crossing his arms.
Genny’s expression darkened, her gaze narrowing.
“I’ll be in the barn with the boys,” she snipped, turning on her heel and vanishing into the hallway.
“So it begins,” Josiah murmured to himself. Half his sons hadn’t even been in the house yet, much less all gathered at the table together for what they would undoubtedly view as bad news.
Josiah looked at his watch. He probably had at least an hour before they were all here, plenty of time to catch a little shuteye. He hoisted himself up and hobbled over to his recliner, sighing as he sank into the buttery leather. Closing his eyes, he let sleep wash away his worries, if only for a short while.
7
The Alphas’ Decision
“Joe, the boys are all here,” Genny’s voice came from behind him.
Josiah stood staring out the window of his office, watching the very last fingers of light retreating from the sky. He’d hardly slept at all, tossing and turning before rising once more to stare out at the fading twilight. His conscience was weighing him down, making him second guess his decision to intrude on his sons’ lives.
“Joe?” Genny asked again.
He turned, giving her a soft smile.
“I’m coming. Just girding my loins,” he teased.
She smiled, making his heart flip in his chest. One look from his mate, and he was a teenager again. Falling all over himself to woo her, giddy with the slightest waft of her scent, desperate to please her. The fact that she didn’t approve of his plan truly bothered him, but now wasn’t the time to show indecision.
“I’m ready,” he said, catching her hand as he reached the doorway. He rolled his shoulders and straightened to his fullest height, now a few inches shy of the 6’5 he’d been in his prime. He steeled his expression and gave Genny’s hand a final squeeze when they reached the Lodge’s meeting room.
Josiah swung the double doors wide open, ushering Genny inside first before following her. The room was dominated by a massive pine table, an antique from Josiah’s own grandfather’s arrival and settling in Montana. His sons were all seated at the table, no doubt on Genny’s explicit orders.
Though he’d never admit it, Josiah did like seeing his sons all in one place like this. All big, lean, muscular men, the same as Josiah had once been. Half of them were dressed in the ranch’s typical attire of dusty jeans and old work shirts, half in slick city attire. All were dark-haired, a deep sorrel color they’d inherited from Josiah. They ran the spectrum of facial hair, from clean-shaven to shadowed to fully bearded. But the eyes… each man had bright, brilliant eyes of green-blue, with yellow-rimmed irises. Those eyes marked each and every son of Genny Beran. They were her more striking feature, and her sons were blessed to be marked with it.
Josiah looked his sons over. On the left side were Noah, Luke, and Cameron. On the right were Gavin and Finn. And at the very end, leaning back in the most casual of poses, was Wyatt. The second Josiah met Wyatt’s gaze, a challenging smirk lit his son’s lips. Wyatt held his gaze without a trace of discomfort, letting Josiah know how little Wyatt liked being summoned to appear. Wyatt, ever the troublemaker in the family, never had done well with demands.
Genny cleared her throat, drawing the attention of every man in the room and diffusing the stare down.
“Ma,” Wyatt said, giving Genny a slow, respectful nod.
“Does anyone need something to drink?” Genny asked, making her way over to the room’s sideboard and picking up a couple of bottles of water.
A chorus of “no, ma’am”s resounded through the room, and Josiah saw the expression of pleasure that lit Genny’s face. Genny loved that she’d raised her boys to be so respectful, though Josiah doubted that most other people got the kind of devoted admiration that Genny herself did.
“Let’s sit, then,” Josiah said, drawing out a chair at the end of the table for his mate. Genny settled herself, putting two bottles of water before them, and Josiah took the seat next to hers.
“If we’re going to talk about the Alpha succession, Ma should leave the room,” Wyatt drawled.
Four voices burst into the ensuing silence, rewarding Wyatt’s condescension with the chaos he always sought. Twins Noah and Finn, ever the momma’s boys, protested the idea of Genny’s exclusion on any grounds. Gavin, the family peacemaker, jumped in to dismiss any succession talk before it ended in an outright brawl. Cameron raised his voice, trying to talk over everyone, mostly because he resented the Beran clan’s assumption that Wyatt would be next in line for the Alpha position. Luke, the oldest and most reserved of them, was silent; no surprise there, as Luke had always held his cards close to his chest.
Josiah’s gaze snapped back to Wyatt. Josiah reached out and patted Genny’s hand, giving his second-oldest son a quelling glare.
“That’s not why I called you here,” Josiah said. When his sons continued to argue and wi
nd one another up, Josiah stood. Putting two fingers to his lips, he gave a long, sharp whistle that brought the bickering to a grinding halt.
“Shut up,” Josiah warned them. He came to his feet, crossing his arms and giving them his best Alpha stance. He’d spent a lifetime guiding and disciplining his sons, teaching them respect and boundaries, with moments just like this one in mind. As Alpha, he had the power to physically demand their attention, but he preferred to let them choose to obey rather than force them. True to their upbringing, they all followed his command and kept quiet.
“There’s been a meeting of the Alphas of all six major clans,” Josiah began. “The slowing rate of population growth has become epidemic. The Alpha of the Missouri clan had some statistic, something like fifty births per year. Our kind can’t be sustained that way.”
Wyatt perked up instantly, his interest in Berserker politics rearing its head. Wyatt loved to argue in general, but the backwardness of Berserker politics was a kind of nirvana to him. His mouth opened, a smart retort on the tip his tongue.
“We know all that,” Cameron said, cutting off Wyatt’s surely similar words before he got them out. “But the clans have been intermarrying in themselves for so long that it’s hard to find a girlfriend in our territory who’s not a close cousin, much less a mate who doesn’t share your bloodline. What are we supposed to do?”
All the boys but Luke murmured in assent, nodding.
“We had our reasons then, trying to keep the gene pool strong by keeping our kind from mating with humans. Half-breeds are very weak, if they can transform at all.”
“You’ve seen one?” Finn asked, looking surprised. “I thought they didn’t exist anymore.”
“I’ve seen many born, and almost as many die. Like I said, they’re weak. Of the clans, only Washington and Georgia even allow half-breeds in their clans.”
“This is all a very nice little history lesson, but I’m not seeing the point,” Wyatt interrupted.
“Berserkers are no longer taking mates at the rate needed to keep our numbers up. Taking a mate is an expected part of growing up in an Alpha family, a duty that your generation seems to have forgotten. Only a handful of the current Alphas’ children have taken mates, though nearly all of you are well beyond the acceptable age,” Josiah said, coming to his point. “You six are perfect examples. That’s why the Alphas have decided that all their offspring will mate within the year. Any Berserker woman of good breeding and the right age is acceptable.”
“What!” Luke yelped, leaping to his feet. His brothers all stared at him, shocked at his reaction. Shocked, really, to hear him speak without being directly questioned. Josiah turned to him, taking him to task.
“You got a better option? I don’t see you bringing home a mate, giving me grandchildren. You’re the oldest, you set the standard for your brothers. And yet, you’re the worst bachelor of all of them. So I took things into my own hands. Six of you, ten US Berserker clans. Six grandchildren by next year, I would assume.”
Wyatt stood, making as if to leave the room. The other five were shouting, half out of their chairs, the situation quickly spiraling out of control.
“Enough!” Josiah growled, slamming his hands down on the table. Exasperated, he sent out a heavy wave of his Alpha power, dropping the youngest three back into their seats and sending every man’s gaze right to the floor in submission.
Genny cleared her throat, doing her best to calm Josiah down before the situation escalated.
“Ma, you agree with the enforcement of this rule?” Wyatt asked, putting his mother on the spot.
Genny gave him a considering look before responding.
“Your father is Alpha, and his word is law. Accept it, or leave the clan,” she said.
Josiah’s jaw dropped, as did Wyatt’s. Genny was usually more than accommodating to the men in her family, always worried about their comfort and security above all else. For her to suggest that one should leave the pack was unthinkable, though it was the answer Josiah had needed from her.
“The children of every clan Alpha and highly-placed family are doing the same. Once others in your generation see the success you’ve had, they’ll follow in your footsteps. Within ten years, our population could increase by a third, even a half.”
“And if we refuse?” Cameron asked, shifting his gaze between Wyatt and Josiah.
“The North Carolina Alpha drew up documents, and they’ve been signed. We’ve agreed that any mateless Berserkers who don’t comply will be banned from all the American clans. Names revoked, communications cut off.”
“Josiah!” Genny said, going pale. He hadn’t explained that last part to her.
Reaching out, he took her hand once more.
“It’s the only way we can enforce the decree,” he explained.
Cameron roared, rising to his feet. His face rippled and elongated, his whole body shuddering as he fought the urge to shift. Claws burst from his fingertips, scoring the table before him as he pushed away, unable to hold back the tide. Cameron fled the room with an anguished moan, the creak and snap of bones breaking and reforming growing fainter as he made for the front door.
“Worse temper than all of us,” Josiah said, staring down the rest of his sons. “I hope the rest of you can be a little more restrained. You know your mother doesn’t like shifting in the house.”
Josiah looked over at Genny, whose expression was nothing short of stony. She took her hand from his, but said nothing. Josiah was certain that they’d continue the conversation later, in the privacy of their bedroom suite. Gen would have plenty enough to say then, he supposed.
“So that’s it, then?” Finn wondered aloud. “We’re all going to have mates now?”
“Within the year,” Josiah repeated.
“How did you decide which of us goes to which clan?” Gavin asked.
“We’ve organized a series of social events, so that you can all meet each other. We’re hosting the first one here, next weekend. The Alphas’ mates have a whole weekend of activities planned,” Josiah said, pushing up out of his chair. “Your mother and I are going to go start on dinner. When you leave this room, you’d better be reconciled to either attending this event and finding a suitable mate or leaving the clan altogether. Your mom’s putting some big, fat venison steaks on, so I’d decide sooner rather than later, if I were you all.”
Helping Genny out of her seat, he ignored his the babble of voices as he led his mate out of the room. Closing the meeting room’s double doors on them, he turned and followed Genny toward the kitchen. Already he could hear raised voices through the thick doors, a sure sign that a fight would break out between them in quick succession.
“Are you sure about this, Joe?” Genny asked, turning back to him.
“I’m sure, Gen. Honestly, most of them couldn’t be less happy than they are now, could they?”
After a moment, Genny granted him a tentative smile.
“All right. Let’s see about those steaks, then,” she said. “Come on, old man.”
Josiah followed her with a chuckle, forcing his mind away from his sons and toward his lovely mate.
8
The Mixer
Luke huffed as he heaved a bale of hay into one of the tidy stacks that lined the barn’s walls. While most of his brothers had returned to their jobs and lives for the last week, Luke and Noah had stayed at the Lodge to help Ma get things ready for the big Berserker gathering. A hundred or so guests would be descending in a matter of hours, eligible Berserkers and their parents.
The idea of being pushed into such a social event made Luke’s throat and chest tighten with panic, but he just kept moving hay bales. Then he swept the floor, moved in the furniture Ma wanted, and helped string up lights. Noah was doing similar tasks in a huge white tent just outside the barn, Luke knew.
When they were finished, a big stage was set up at the far end of the barn. There were some benches gathered around a spacious parquet dance floor inside, and out in the t
ent Noah had set up a sea of tables and chairs. Ma had gone the whole nine yards, with flowers and candles artfully arranged everywhere. There was a buffet line set up, and full bars in both the barn and the tent.
By the time Luke had gone to shower, dressed in a dark blue plaid button-up shirt and jeans, and re-emerged from his old bedroom, guests had started to arrive.
“This is starting to look an awful lot like a wedding,” Noah said, coming to stand next to Luke as he stood looking out over the scene.
“Yep. Think that’s the point,” Luke sighed, wiping sweat from his brow.
Noah gave him a considering look, to which Luke responded with a glare.
“Don’t,” Luke warned.
“Don’t what?” Noah asked, his expression turning to amusement.
“I don’t need any figuring out. Don’t be trying to get in my head, I’ve got enough on my plate tonight with all this,” Luke said, waving at the growing crowd.
“I’m just surprised you’re still here, that’s all. I thought you’d be on the first plane out to find that girl, what’s her name—”
“Shut the fuck up,” Luke interrupted, stalking away from Noah. Unfortunately, that meant that he thrust himself right into the milling crowd. He tried walking straight across and out the other side, but his Aunt Lindsay caught him by the arm.
“Luke! Let me introduce you around, show you off a little!” the old biddy crowed.
“I was just, uh…” he faltered.
“Nonsense. Look at all these pretty girls. They’re going to be falling all over my nephews, have no doubt!” Aunt Lindsay declared.
Luke gulped, but let her lead him through almost an hour of the most painful and awkward introductions imaginable. As the sun set, Luke began to despair. He’d had some small amount of hope for himself at this event, but this was even worse than his most recent job interview. He jumped at every little thing, glared at every strange man, and he was starting to sweat right through his shirt.
