by Eden Myles
“All for the good of the pack,” was a common statement Ash used at the time. He was as shrewd and cunning in the boardroom as he was in the forest, hunting big game. In fact, he often made analogies between the two. “My pack, we want for nothing now. There is nothing the human world can offer that we require. No reason to live in the shadow of these humans any longer.”
Ash, who, like Roman, had witnessed and fled the execution of many witches and werewolves over the long centuries, harbored a deep suspicion of all humans. But William wasn’t convinced it was best for the Three Rivers Pack, and he had no problem voicing his objections. “If we grow too content and disconnected, our defenses will be lowered. We’ll be weak and vulnerable from attacks from both humans as well as other packs. Ash, be reasonable.”
But Ash wouldn’t listen. This was his dream, the way of life he had longed to bring the pack for centuries—to live peacefully and secluded from the human race. William sometimes joked that he was as placid as Obi Wan Kenobi. No matter how cruel the world was—and Ash had certainly known cruelty, having been taken from his native Africa and forced to live the early part of his life at the merciless hands of slavers, hiding all that he was—he still managed to find a reservoir of peace within himself that was the envy of all his kind. But he was no fool, he said. He wanted his people to live independent of the monsters who had enslaved and destroyed so many of his kind.
Thus, he’d built a huge mansion in the Poconos situated on thousands of acres of secluded, uncleared forest and he and the pack had, with few exceptions, almost nothing to do with society any longer. They farmed and ranched what they needed, and took the rest from the land. They had generators for power, and no modern means of outside communication.
Three days after speaking with Dylan, William found himself putting his Land Rover in a higher gear as he bumped along the curvy, tree-lined road up to the house. He prayed the snow-tires would hold and checked to make sure the heat was blasting to keep the windows from icing up. It was early February and a polar vortex had been though only a week before, dumping a generous amount of snow and ice all over the mountains. The boughs of the trees were heavy with a thick white crust, and the road managed to be both rocky and slick at the same time. Treacherous. Nothing short of a Jeep with four-wheel-drive could make it up these roads, and it was obvious that not many people came up this way anymore.
His crew at the bistro had been surprisingly understanding of his sudden leave of absence while he took care of what he called “family business.” But then, William had never been the type of iron chef to bully his people. He believed in treating them fairly, like human beings, and they generally liked him in return. Nat seemed to understand innately that this was a big deal, since almost nothing could drag William away from his work. She said she would hold down the fort for however long it took for him to sort out his business, and he’d kissed her on the forehead and thanked her before rushing home to pack for the weekend. He had a duffle bag with some essentials in it on the seat beside him, but had made a point of leaving his cell phone behind, just in case.
Several hours later, he finally caught a glimpse of the big house on the next rise. It looked exactly the same as he remembered—a rambling, dark stone monstrosity completely out of place here in the mountains where hunting cabins and lodges were the status quo. Instead, Ash’s house looked like something that belonged on the Scottish moors. It had a reputation for being haunted, not that the locals had many occasions to come out this far.
As he pulled the Range Rover onto the white gravel of the drive, he saw the front door open and the seven remaining members of the pack emerge to greet him—Murphy, Millicent, the twins Michael and Gabriel, Dylan and Errick—all led by their queen, Saada. It was nice to see his family after so long, but William felt his stomach tighten at the sight of the tall, blond Norseman standing slightly apart from the others, sniffing the air and watching, always on the alert. It was, after all, Errick’s responsibility to keep the pack safe.
William wondered what provisions Ash had left behind in his final instructions, if he had named Errick his successor. If he had—that would make Errick his new alpha. The thought made the snakes in his stomach tighten even more.
As he got out of the vehicle, a light snow started falling once more over the mountains. The members of the pack gathered around him, touching and hugging. Murphy was a short, sturdy man and professional cowboy, sun-bronzed from working the cattle. He was a mated pair with Millicent, and together they took care of the estate both inside and out. Along with William, Errick and Saada, Murphy was also a Pedigree, the rest having been made werewolves by various members of the pack. He hugged Murphy, kissed sweet Millie on the cheek, and Dylan immediately sprang into his arms and gave him her usual daughterly hug. But when he came upon Michael and Gabriel—Errick’s lovers—he shook their hands noncommittally but otherwise kept his distance. Mike and Gabe were the youngest, made by Errick only five years ago, and though model-handsome and seemingly eager to please, William didn’t really know them very well. Finally, he turned to Errick.
He was a head taller than William and he towered over everyone else in the pack, his muscular arms crossed in a defensive way over his thickly-muscled chest. His arms and legs were as thick as tree trunks, and long, thick, white-blond braids framed a square-jawed, severe face and ice-blue eyes. He was more striking than handsome, and for Errick it normally took no more than a glare to send a lesser werewolf running, though he knew how to fight, and fight well. His shoulders were broad and muscled, his body lean and strong. He wore a white, button-down shirt tucked into a pair of snug blue jeans, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his sinewy forearms and the multitude of primitive tribal tattoos that crawled down his forearms and over much of his body. The collar of the shirt was open just enough to show a spray of glistening blond hair. The antique torc he wore around his neck, set with a gleaming red tiger’s eye, sparked in the blinding, winter-white sunlight as he glared blankly down upon William.
Another you’ve disappointed, William thought bitterly.
Errick didn’t touch him like the others, but he did nod a brief greeting. His face was, as always, an unreadable mask.
Ten years ago, he and Errick had been a mated pair, and William had been the happiest he could ever remember being. The gravitation between them had been sudden, powerful and compelling. He’d always considered himself a lone wolf, an Orphan. But with Errick, he’d learned the pure joy of companionship, of submitting to the desires of his wolf. Errick’s wolf called to him. He’d never felt that with anyone before. He’d never trusted any lover like he had Errick.
But when it was all said and done, William was a city boy, and Errick’s loyalties were with the pack. They were like oil and water, complete opposites of one another. Errick believed the way of the wolf was to run and be free. William disagreed; he believed freedom was a state of mind, that a werewolf could be happy anywhere in the world. It hurt like hell to say goodbye, but William knew it was the only way they could both be truly happy.
The scent and feel of Errick’s presence always left him reeling. He hated feeling so out of control, even now, like some young pup with his first crush. Living in the human world had been something of a relief. Sex with humans was uncomplicated and unattached, and there was no fear of Errick upsetting his life. He knew Errick would never come to the city, that he was too dedicated to the pack and his duties as their lieutenant. If he never had to see Errick, he never had to think about what they might have had if he’d stayed.
He thought their first face-to-face meeting would be awkward, but William found himself both lulled and aroused by the big man’s presence, even after all this time. No one had ever gotten to him so quickly and thoroughly. He was glad for the thick parka as the others crushed him in their embrace.
“I told you he’d come,” Dylan said.
“We’re glad you’re here,” Murphy told him, patting him on the back. “Even though it is sad circumstances.” He lo
oked to Errick for confirmation and the big Norseman grunted. Snow and wind swirled around him and settled in his long hair, but he did not even seem to feel the cold.
“Good to have you back, my love,” Millicent said and pinched his cheeks, then stepped back so Saada could come forward and greet him.
She was tall and slender like a statue made of onyx, one of the most beautiful women that William had ever had the privilege to lay eyes on. Oblivious to the cold, Ash’s alpha mate wore a long, sparkling red and purple kanga, and her hair hung in long, waist-length cornrows decorated with beads. She took his hands and smiled. “It’s good to see you, William,” she said in her deep, melodious voice. “It’s been far too long.”
Ignoring the snow, William dropped to one knee and kissed her hands. “It’s good to be back, my queen. My wolf mourns your loss. Ash meant so much to all of us.”
“He would be pleased to hear you say that, William.”
“Let’s finish this indoors,” Errick said in his rumbling baritone, his eyes darting around the surrounding forest. He turned to lead everyone indoors, ducking under the lintel of the front door to do so.
“Is he really so worried about the pack being attacked?” William said.
“It’s his job to worry,” Saada answered, following Errick indoors.
The pack stomped their feet and shook the snow from their hair. Millie, a pretty, plump woman who had been bitten into the life in her middle-age, turned to take his coat, marveling over William as she did so. “You look wonderful, William.”
William laughed at that, seeing how werewolves aged so very slowly, particularly Pedigrees.”As do you, Millie. And the house is spotless, as always.”
Millie beamed. She ran the day-to-day operations of the place and was a notorious neat-freak. She hailed from a time when keeping house was an art form, and it looked it, everything prim and proper, tastefully decorated and in its place. With a smile, William remembered how she often berated the other pack members whenever they made a mess—and how she had taken Dylan under her wing, turned her into such a lady. She hung his dark, woolen pea coat up by the hearth to dry and said, “I hope you’re hungry, my love. I made a bite to eat.”
“A bite to eat” in Millie-speak meant a full-fledge feast of titanic proportions. “Yes, ma’am, I am,” he said, running a hand through his damp hair. “But you do know you’ll have to give me all the recipes before I go.”
“Don’t I always?” Millie quipped, hugging him before leading the way into the banquet hall. “But I expect full credit! Remember who taught you how to cook, young man!”
William laughed because she was right. Without Millie, he wouldn’t be the chef he was today. But his laughter soon faltered when they stepped into the vast room and he looked at the empty head of the table, then up at the giant portrait of Ash on the wall above the mantel, dressed in the white-tie evening finery that had been a staple back in his day. The whole pack fell silent in deference to their fallen alpha, and the room seemed to fill with a nervous, uncertain miasma. Then Saada clapped her hands and said in her clear, musical voice, “Ash would not approve of such long faces, my wolves. We dine to please him, and later tonight we shall hunt to honor him.”
The others agreed and turned away from the picture.
The banquet hall was huge to accommodate the giant feasts that the pack enjoyed, and the long trestle table was laden with roasts of all kinds, bottles of wine being chilled, fruits and cheese platters, and expertly iced cakes, all prepared by Millie. The pack ripped into the feast, devouring everything on the table. Were this any other reunion, William would have regaled the pack with stories from the city and exchanged gossip, but the occasion was so solemn that as soon as he was full enough, he stood up and said to Errick, “I can go downstairs now, if you want.”
Errick had chosen to sit in his usual spot, to the right of the now empty head, but he sat there like some giant Viking king, hungrily gnawing a mutton bone. When he realized William was addressing him as if he were alpha, he raised his head and met William’s eyes head on. He said in a gravelly voice that made William’s cock twitch in his pants, “In a hurry, William? I thought you might stay the night—unless you’re afraid someone here will eat you. As Saada has said, we plan to honor Ash with a hunt tonight.”
William tried to ignore Errick’s glibness. “I understand. I’ll say if I’m wanted.” He looked to Saada, who smiled.
“You are welcomed to join us, William,” she said. “Whether part of the pack or not, you were still Ash’s friend.”
“I want you to stay.” Dylan grabbed his hand from across the table. “You haven’t seen what I’ve done with the place.”
The twins nodded. Michael added, “Dylan’s upgrading the whole house. She put in Wifi. We have internet now. And cable TV.”
“And cell phones,” Murphy added, showing William his smartphone. He looked confused. “I haven’t really figured it out yet, but I’m working on it.”
“I do love the cable,” Millie put in. “I can watch my stories now!”
“You and your stories!” Murphy berated his mate, and Millie grinned good-naturedly. “You’re nearly as bad as Dylan and her Facelooking.”
“It’s Facebooking, dear,” Millie corrected her husband.
It was nice to hear his family banter around the table once more. He realized he’d missed that, though he chose to remain silent throughout the rest of the meal. They were being nice because of the occasion of Ash’s death, but he knew he didn’t really belong here. He listened to the others, impressed by Dylan’s work at upgrading the old wiring, Murphy’s ranching skills, and Millie’s success with this year’s garden. He didn’t talk much about himself; he knew the outside world was a sore spot with the others.
As Millie went to fetch more cake and pie, he stood up. “I’m not sure I could swallow down one more bite. I’ll think I’ll go up and unpack.”
“Let me help with your things,” Murphy said, springing to his feet. “Millie fixed your room up right nice.”
“Thanks, Millie. You are a treasure,” he said, kissing her cheek.
“You will be back down to hunt, won’t you?” Millie asked, balancing yet another huge chocolate cake on a plate.
He grinned. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he said before following Murphy up the stairs to his room.
He felt Errick’s eyes on him the whole way.
***
Read a 3-chapter excerpt from Dark Wolf (The Wolves of Wall Street #3) by Jay Ellison:
Chapter One
“Hey, babe, I’m back,” Jillian Fever called as she slipped inside her ranch house on the outskirts of Epiphany, New York, and moved stealthily toward the bedroom, shedding wet and muddy clothes as she went along. She was happy to see her boyfriend Ethan was still awake, even at this ungodly hour of the wolf.
Ethan Twofeathers was sitting up in bed, propped up by pillows, and working on his laptop. The TV on the dresser flickered dim grey light across the room, casting everything in deep shadows and bluish late-night horror movie shades, not that Jill needed much light to see by. “I see that,” he said, and then had to pause as a nubile, busty, young college girl screamed while a big, hairy werewolf stalked her through the manufactured midnight forest of a low budget, late-night B-movie. He picked up the remote and lowered the volume, wrinkling his nose. “Smell it too.”
Jill stopped at the foot of the bed and put her hands on her curvy hips in mock anger. “Hey, now, counselor, that’s good old fashioned sweat you smell.” She shook her finger at him. “Well-earned, I might add.”
“Babe, you smell like a wet dog,” Ethan demurred, and then smiled to show he was teasing her. “How did it go with Maya?”
Jill smiled too. “She’s doing fine. Five pups!” she told him excitedly, referring to the game preserves’ brand new litter of red wolf pups.
Two years ago, Maya was rescued by PAWS—the People and Wildlife Sanctuary—when she was found in a steel animal trap not far outs
ide a borough of Albany, New York. An unscrupulous someone had smuggled her up from North Carolina, where the only remaining colony of red wolves living wild in the United States existed. PAWS was established to care for and foster all manner of orphaned and endangered wildlife in upstate New York, and Maya had been in desperate need of attention. She’d been injured and thoroughly undernourished when PAWS picked her up. Jill had spent endless nights nursing one of the rarest species of wolf on earth back to health. Eventually, Maya was paired up with Roscoe, another of their red wolf rescues, and now the family had five little ones. She and the vet had spent the last seven hours coaxing Maya through her difficult labor, and Jill was immensely proud of her contribution toward bringing the red wolf back from the brink of extinction.
Ethan smiled and peeled off his glasses. He’d played basketball in high school and was tall and fit, one-quarter Iroquois, two-thirds Irish, handsome as hell but completely myopic. He reminded Jill of a younger, sweet-faced, slightly geeky Robert Downey Jr., and she loved him to pieces. “I’m glad she’s okay. But what were you doing out there, rolling around in the mud with her?” He looked her filthy clothes up and down.
Jill rubbed away some mud near her ear and shrugged. “I like to get into my work.” She climbed over the foot of the bed and gave him narrow bedroom eyes as she stalked him like a cat. “Don’t you like me all dirty, babe?”
Ethan laughed and threw a pillow at her. He pointed at the adjoining bathroom. “Shower! Now!”
Pouting, Jill resigned herself to plopping down on the foot of the bed to wrangle off her work boots.
“Oh my god,” Ethan said, holding his nose.
Jill pulled off a sock and sniffed it. “Like a rose.”
