“My fairy friend, Nikki, says that it’s okay for me to talk about fairies because the grownups won’t ever believe me,” Isabel said.
“I believe you.” Zach gave a big push that sent her swing higher.
As she swung back, Isabel flashed him a quick, disbelieving glance.
He shrugged. “I live in my imagination so I know what it’s like. My characters talk to me too.”
“What do they say?”
He flashed a wry smile. “Right now, not a whole lot.”
“But they’re still in your imagination,” Isabel stressed her point. “My friends aren’t.”
“They seem real to me.”
“That’s not the same.” Isabel pouted but pursued it no further. Eventually, she asked, “Have you figured out who killed the taxi driver yet?”
He grunted. “I think so.” Then, “No, I’ve no bloody idea.”
“I think it was his wife.”
Zach stared at the girl’s dark mane of hair as it lifted from her shoulders. He waited until she swung back and asked, “How do you figure?”
“Because, it’s always the wife or husband. You told me so yourself. It was the wife in your last book—Abandon All Hope.”
Zach groaned. “Isabel, please tell me you’re not reading my books.”
“No, but Mama reads them. And you talk to me about them all the time. Mama wants Inspector Anders to fall in love with the pretty lady from the place where they take the dead people.”
“The morgue,” Zach said. “Theresa and most of my female readers seem to want those two together.”
“Zach!” A familiar Spanish-accented voice called out his name.
Zach turned to find Mary, Theresa’s mother and Isabel’s grandmother, hurrying toward him. He smiled in greeting. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Sanchez.”
“Nana!” Isabel jumped off the swing, landing confidently on both feet, and flew into her grandmother’s arms.
“Izzy, my little love bug! How are you? Let me see you.”
“You’re an hour early,” Zach said, checking his watch.
“My doctor’s appointment let out early. Has Izzy been good for you?” Mary regarded Zach with the sort of motherly approval that set his ears burning.
“An angel,” Zach said.
Isabel promptly launched into a long-winded, furiously-paced account of their afternoon together. Zach waited patiently until the girl wore herself out.
“Thank you so much for watching my Izzy. Do you need to be going?” Mary asked.
“I should,” he said. “I haven’t written a word since yesterday and I still need to pack. My plane leaves tomorrow at seven.”
“Bye, Zach,” Isabel said, waving her hand.
“I’ll see you, chiquita.”
“Bring me a present?”
“Promise.” He crossed his heart.
Back at his car, Zach dug out his portable tape recorder that he used for keeping notes. He brought the microphone to his mouth and turned it on. “Not the wife.”
****
Monday evening, the entire pack gathered in the living room of Adam and Becky Teller’s spacious home. The higher-ranked dominant wolves were already assembled on a mint green couch and the matching armchairs. Card table chairs had been arranged in rows three deep for the remainder of the pack.
“Theresa, over here!” Ambra, Isabel’s aunt, waved her hand, indicating an empty seat beside her. The lovely young woman wore her dark hair perfectly coifed. Her hair and nails were flawlessly painted. Her outfit and shoes were stylish and tasteful, reflecting the high-end clothing boutique where she worked.
Unfortunately, Theresa’s ex-husband, Antonio, sat beside Ambra with his human wife to his other side. Antonio and Ambra were fraternal twins. Under normal circumstances, Theresa would not have dreamt of ignoring an invitation from Ambra. However, Antonio Gallo qualified as one of her least favorite people in the entire world.
Theresa hesitated but only fractionally, casting a glance of longing at a chair available close to Zach. However, she lacked both the status and the confidence necessary to claim it. The pack organized itself roughly, though not rigidly, according to hierarchy in any social setting. Theresa held one rank higher than Antonio and two higher than Ambra. However, Theresa’s rank only placed her in the middle of the pack.
“Hi, Ambra. How have you been?” Theresa made her way to sit beside her ex-husband’s twin. Despite Antonio’s unpleasant proclivities, his sister was a wonderful person and didn’t deserve to be punished for the bad luck of being related to him.
“Good, really good.” Ambra stared at Theresa with a lifted brow. “I could have sworn for a second that you intended to go sit with the dominants.”
Theresa blushed. “Don’t be silly.”
“Hello, Theresa.” Antonio wore a white Henley shirt and indigo blue jeans tucked into boots. At twenty-four, he was only a year older than Theresa. Once, his dark good looks had impressed her, but no more. She regarded him with distaste.
“Antonio.” Theresa bequeathed him a curt nod.
“Have you heard the news?” Ambra dropped her voice to a hushed whisper and leaned forward with the eager expression of one in possession of a choice piece of gossip.
“What news?” Theresa had no talent for subterfuge. Her face gave her away every time.
“Word is, Adam is going to retire. Robert is the logical choice to become Alpha, but Antonio doesn’t think Zach will let him have it without a fight.”
Theresa opened her mouth, formulating a neutral reply, but the call to order saved her from having to make one. The assembled audience fell silent. Adam, the Alpha, stood and adjusted the jacket of his navy suit. His white hat rested nearby on an oak end table out of deference to the fact that the meeting was being held indoors.
“Howdy all, thanks for coming,” Adam drawled in his rolling Texan accent. He received a round of greetings in return and more than a couple chuckles. “Now, I know rumors have been spreading and folks are getting worked up, so I want to address the pack to put your minds at ease. So if it’s okay with everyone, I’ll speak my piece, then I’ll open the floor to questions.”
Tension flowed throughout the pack, rooted in their fear of change. Things had been good for years. No one wanted to lose the harmony and the security. No one spoke.
Adam continued to address the pack. “When I came to this community five years ago, I did so at the request of our Sovereign. Those of you who were members then know this pack was in a sorry way; those who weren’t here have heard the stories. Dominant wolves abused weaker members. Mates and children were mistreated or outright killed.”
A stir moved through the pack at the long-buried memories of pain and suffering. Theresa shivered as bitterness, fear, and anger seized the crowd. She had always been sensitive to the pack’s mood, although her empathy sometimes failed her when she tried to focus on specific individuals.
However, as a whole, the pack shared a collective aura that allowed the transmission of emotions from one member to the next. It was a rudimentary link and a pale shadow of the powerful magic that once bound them. When the dominant wolves had been killed five years before, the fundamental connection binding the pack had shattered. Many of the lower ranked wolves who remembered those times still treated one another with contempt. Bullying and power plays were common.
“I promised then that things would get better, and I do believe they have.” Adam’s steady demeanor recalled the audience to their Alpha’s message and the present. “Bryce and those responsible for the worst offenses were dealt with.”
“New dominants have been brought in from other packs. Our hierarchy has been stable and has proved capable of surviving a healthy change. Now, I must fess up. When I accepted the rank of Alpha, I was already past my prime, and it was understood then that I’d be retiring as soon as I deemed the pack ready.”
“It’s time for me to step down.”
When the roar of protests drowned everything out, Adam l
ifted both hands, signaling for them to quiet down. Violent emotions ran rampant through the pack, none of it pleasant, and without the steady presence of the dominant wolves, there would have been disorder.
“Now, I understand how hard this is,” Adam said. “It hurts me too. But I want to assure y’all that I’m leaving you in competent hands. Robert Blane and Zachary Hunter are both strong males.”
“Who will be the new Alpha?” Shocked at her boldness, Theresa brought a hand to her mouth too late to silence the question. People seated nearby looked at her in surprise, and she saw Zach’s head turn in her direction.
Adam’s gaze traveled to Theresa and rested upon her for a time. He regarded her with surprise. “Excellent question, Theresa. Allow me to answer.”
She nodded but didn’t say anything else. Her voice had frozen and become stuck in her throat. Fortunately, Adam didn’t seem to require any further response from her. “Logically, it’s going to come down to a competition between the two strongest males to determine who will be the next Alpha.”
Adam looked to the side and met Robert’s gaze. The Beta wolf regarded the Alpha with stoic detachment, arms crossed and expression impenetrable.
“When I first met Robert Blane, I said, ‘Now this, this is a wolf to contend with.’ Since then, everything I’ve learned about Robert has reinforced my initial impression,” Adam said. “Now, don’t interpret my mentioning Robert first to hold any great significance. Though Zachary Hunter is something of a maverick, he has all the makings of a damn fine Alpha. I do believe that either one of these gentlemen will do right by the pack.”
Shifting in her chair, Theresa noticed signs of unease throughout the audience. There were times when Adam’s proclivity for speeches did him and others a disservice.
Adam continued, “We’ll attempt to do this peaceful-like with a mediated contest, but the simple fact is that it’s likely to mean a dominance battle when all’s said and done. If necessary, and only if there is no other recourse, then the new Alpha will be selected in a fight to the death.”
The room dissolved into chaos. Like many around her, Theresa surged to her feet. She craned her neck to catch sight of Zach through the crowd, but he remained hidden behind bodies. From her vantage, she could easily see Robert Blane.
The Beta wolf stood head-and-shoulders taller than almost everyone in the room and had the muscular bulk of a linebacker. He was African American in ethnicity with short brown hair, brown eyes, and a trimmed mustache and beard. He wore a charcoal gray suit, well-tailored to his physique. He worked as an attorney for a prestigious law firm, and was well known for being intelligent and articulate.
Adam’s voice rose to soar above the din. The power of his presence washed over the crowd and called it to order. “All right, folks. Let’s calm down. There’s still more to be discussed.”
Theresa sat down, although she felt far from calm. Her stomach churned with turmoil. Dear God. Was this what Zach hadn’t wanted to tell her? He and Robert were friends. Would they be forced to fight to the death for the sake of pack politics? The prospect of losing him frightened her senseless.
“Adam.” Becky Teller, the Alpha’s mate, placed a hand on his elbow.
Adam glanced at Becky and then chuckled. “I’m going to turn the floor over to Becky here. Just as well she should do the tellin’, seein’ as how this is really her brainchild.”
Adam conceded the floor to his mate. She radiated cool confidence that bordered on arrogance. Though human, she spoke with Adam’s authority. As a matter of pack protocol, an order from Becky was the same as one from her mate. Disobedience to her carried the same punishment as disobeying the Alpha.
Becky held up a hand. “Good evenin’, y’all.”
A round of greetings sprang from the pack. Becky waited until the din died away. She flashed a shark smile. “Adam is feeling shy about saying it, so I’ll go ahead and do the best I can.”
Becky allowed a pregnant pause to build. “In most places, a pack is more than just a group of werewolves. A pack has history; a pack is family. It is the bonds of blood that hold any strong pack together. Sadly, our Iron Stone pack has lost that vital heritage. The pack magic is dead and it will be up to my successor to revive it.”
Becky closed up her hands into fists and then extended her arms and opened her fingers, allowing a sense of loss to permeate the ambient aura. The more susceptible members of the pack responded and got teary-eyed.
Absently, Theresa rubbed her eye and her hand came away wet. She shook her head, and attempted to harden herself. She had to hand it to Becky—the woman sure knew how to work a crowd. The Alpha’s mate could reduce even the most hardened heart to a sympathetic ally, given the opportunity.
Becky turned a winning smile on the pack’s three most dominant males. “When Robert and Zach were invited to join our pack three years ago, it was with the expectation that these fine eligible bachelors would choose a mate and contribute to the bloodline. Three years later, and we’re still waiting! Aren’t we, ladies?” Becky winked, eliciting a round of laughter from the pack, including nervous giggles from the women.
Theresa felt as if she’d been punched in the gut. She pressed a hand to her mouth. Her throat closed and her heart sank. She longed to cry out, to silence the woman, but all she could do was sit there and listen. She craned her neck, trying to find Zach and located him on the couch. He appeared relaxed and unperturbed. Her blood turned to ice in her veins. He had known. Oh God, he had been expecting this.
Becky plowed onward with ruthless determination. Her voice rang out clear and loud through the room. “As a condition of becoming Alpha, both Robert and Zach will be required to choose a mate from within the pack. So ladies, put on your red dresses and your dancing shoes, because these handsome gentlemen are officially on the market.”
Excited chaos erupted throughout the room. People surged to their feet, voices raised to create a deafening roar, and activity whirled about her like a hurricane. At the eye of the storm, Theresa sat rock-still. Disbelief vied with betrayal, and a full minute passed before Becky attempted to soothe the pack.
“Now, let’s all calm down. Naturally, everyone is excited. Let’s go ahead and take a fifteen minute break,” Becky said.
The second they were dismissed, Theresa stood on shaky feet. Ambra seized her forearm. “Oh my God! Theresa, can you believe it? Who would have thought—”
Theresa failed to track Ambra’s chatter over the recriminations echoing through her mind. “Excuse me, I need to get some air,” Theresa said and shook off the other woman’s hands.
Antonio turned toward her, a question on his lips. Theresa dodged around her ex-husband and his wife and headed for the closest exit. Her path put her on course for the back patio. She made it in record time and burst onto the deck. She pushed the sliding glass door closed behind her. She seized the wooden railing with both hands. Sides heaving, she gulped the cool night air into her lungs.
Theresa’s head hurt and her eyes stung with unshed tears. Unbelievable, to think that Zach had known all along and not warned her. Had his spontaneous courtship been one of his pranks? Maybe he thought it would be harmless fun, not understanding the depths of her feelings for him.
The sound of the sliding glass door opening startled her. A cacophony spilled forth from the house. Her stomach twisted with dread when she recognized the voices of the two women who had just stepped onto the deck. Hastily, she tried to pull herself together and hide the evidence of her distress.
Donna Turnkill stood as tall as most men, only a couple inches under six foot, and had an athletic build and frizzy red hair. Her cousin and companion, Simone Sovony, was six inches shorter and had dark brown hair cut into a page boy style. Both of the women outranked Theresa in the pack hierarchy: Donna by two, and Simone by one.
Theresa waited, wishing for the ability to disappear—or even better—teleport. At first, they didn’t notice her and continued with their conversation.
“Who w
ould you rather have, Simone, because I’ll tell you—I’d take either of them in a heartbeat,” Donna purred.
Simone laughed. “Donna, you’re such a slut. You’d do either of them—or both of them. Anyway, anywhere, any position—”
“Shut up, bitch.” Donna laughed and looked up. Her gaze froze on Theresa and then she jabbed Simone in the side with her elbow. “Look what we have here.”
“Oh.” Simone regarded Theresa with the sort of look that people usually reserved for bugs in their food.
Donna glared at Theresa with open contempt and sneered. “Too-pathetic-to-keep-a-man Sanchez.”
Theresa lifted her chin and rolled her eyes. “Nice try, but you’re wrong. Excuse me.” She moved to slip past them, but Donna blocked her path.
“Have you been crying, Theresa?” Donna asked, scenting the air.
Simone also sniffed, following her friend’s lead. “She’s probably heartbroken because Zach’s gonna pick a mate and it won’t be her. Everyone knows that she’s got the most pathetic crush on him.”
Donna’s eyes lit up and she seized on the suggestion. “Is that it, Theresa? Poor pitiful thing—no male wolf will touch you because you’re damaged goods. No one wants Antonio’s sloppy seconds.”
Staring at the pair, Theresa felt her throat begin to rumble in a low growl. Her wolf rose, swift and sure, and her eyes took on a red glow.
“Be careful,” she gritted out, but neither woman heard or respected the warning.
“In fact,” Simone said, “the only reason any male could possibility want her is because she’s proved she can whelp a pup.”
A movement behind the women caught Theresa’s attention. She glanced over to find Zach standing right behind her tormentors. Simone’s voice faded from Theresa’s awareness like an annoying insect, and she locked gazes with Zach. Abruptly, Theresa realized all noise from within the house had ceased. They had an audience—the entire pack was listening.
Zach stopped about three paces behind Donna and Simone. His expression was grim and the look in his eyes murderous. He caught Theresa’s gaze and lifted one eyebrow—a question. Theresa bit her lower lip, battling indecision. She either handled the matter herself or she allowed Zach to deal with it for her. If he stepped in on her behalf, then no member of the pack would ever respect her again.
The Mating Game Page 7
