But even though I had resolved not to contact my mate, I didn't sleep. I couldn't sleep with my lover so near, and yet so very far away. Instead, I lay awake in the darkness...and I thought of Wolfie.
***
When I groggily pulled myself out of bed the next morning, the bluff that I was expecting lots of visitors had become a reality. In fact, the parade of callers that started up first thing that morning didn't pause until mid-afternoon, and my honor guard soon grew weary of watching my back, instead wandering off to stay busy in other parts of the campsite. We all knew that the yahoos and my relatives could be by my side in seconds if I needed them, but our pack looked more powerful to the nearby clans if I was able to host innocuous visitors on my own.
And the first set of visitors did turn out to be innocuous. Soon after I rose, my cousin Camilla dropped by smiling and cheerful on the arm of her mate, and I was absurdly grateful for their impulse even though the presence of the typical All-Pack audience required that the ensuing conversation be stilted and careful. Camilla could have come visiting without making waves, but Chad's presence was pure kindness since the Walkers' powerful clan didn't need any Wilder support, meaning that their alpha was subtly backing my own leadership by dint of his visit. As a symbol of my gratitude, I silently resolved to find a way to lend my own support to some unpopular Walker campaign in the near future, and I also decided that, despite our decade-long lapse in visits, Camilla was a true friend.
After that, I'd expected and hoped to see Wolfie walking up the out-territory aisle leading to the Wilder campfire, allowing the two of us to share a carefully-chosen word or two at long last, if not to say what was really on our minds. But after his act of possessiveness the night before, my mate instead commenced to ignore me, spending his time sitting on the hood of his pickup truck and staring across his vast expanse of empty territory at the werewolves beyond. Rationally, I knew that Wolfie was guarding my back, but irrationally I agreed with my lupine half, who curled into a grumpy ball when our mate failed to materialize, then told me to wake her only if life grew more interesting.
But my bloodling alpha turned out to be the only pack leader not interested in visiting the Wilder encampment during that first morning, and at least one of those callers I could have gladly done without. My mate's brother arrived just before noon, hand-delivering a brace of rabbits that must have looked like a courting gift to the nearby shifters...or would have, if the alpha's eyes hadn't been so cold when they met mine. Instead, I could have sworn that Justin's sole purpose in visiting was to sniff the air around my skin, seeking the aroma of his brother, and I was absurdly grateful that I'd resisted the impulse to visit Wolfie the night before. Rather than his brother's scent of pine needles and leaf mold, Justin probably smelled the peppermint aroma of his own ex-mate, evidence which would have angered a different sort of pack leader. But the All-Pack host seemed pleased rather than upset by what he'd discovered, and he left with a new spring in his steps before we'd spoken more than a dozen words.
Luckily, except for Justin, none of my visitors were really daunting, a relief since I'd been worried for weeks about holding my own among the local pack leaders. Camilla's father didn't actually come to call, but the older alpha did dismantle his clan's tents and then set them all up again on the opposite side of his daughter's territory, considerably closer to my own boundaries and thus hinting at a passive alliance between Reeds and the Wilder clan. And our other traditional ally, the Griffins, soon followed suit...but only after their young pack leader came sauntering up my pathway, his demeanor equal parts alpha arrogance and nervousness at walking alone into the territory of another alpha.
Wade's head rose immediately at the Griffin's approach, even though that yahoo and the rest of my guards were all busy at the other end of our campsite, and I immediately shook my head in a subtle negation. I'd allowed my relatives and the yahoos to drift closer to the campfire when Justin walked toward me up the out-territory aisle, but I didn't need my honor guard to close ranks when a traditional Wilder ally was coming to parlay. Instead, I offered the younger alpha a seat on a folding chair and tried my best to remember his name. The Griffins were fond of alliteration, so I mentally ran through half a dozen G names before settling on...
"Gary?" I asked, and the previously silent alpha graced me with a true smile.
"That's my brother," the visitor said, putting me out of my misery and seeming to relax a bit at my misstep. "I'm Gavin."
Gavin didn't seem much older than Blaze, and I was surprised that such a youngster was leading even a minor pack. Surely the other alphas would be sniffing around the Griffin boundaries just like they were looking for chinks in my own armor. In fact, my unexpected site change the night before had likely shaken up Gavin's entire pack since my about-face had the side effect of leaving the Griffins out in the cold. I opened my mouth to apologize, but stopped when I realized that anything I could say along that line would look bad in front of the audience that was never more than a few yards away here at All-Pack. So, instead, I just offered the kid a cup of hot cocoa and waited for him to get to the point.
"I, well, our pack," my visitor said, stumbling over his words, and I allowed my gaze to drift to the side, lowering the pressure so Gavin could recover his composure. I'd felt the same tongue-tied terror when facing down my father, and I was surprised to realize that this pack leader was equally daunted by my much milder form of alpha dominance. The recognition made me feel badly for the youngster, but his submission was an encouraging sign pointing to the stability of my role as pack leader...as long as my current visitor wasn't just trying to summon the courage to tell me that the Griffin clan was severing all ties with my own.
"Your pack..." I prodded when the shifter seemed to have entirely lost his train of thought, and I backed up the words with an encouraging hand on his knee. I really had no plans to tear anyone's throat out today, or anytime in the near future, and I certainly wouldn't harm this potential ally who reminded me so much of the yahoos under my care. But I was at a bit of a loss about how to convey that point without losing face.
Luckily, the nonverbal reassurance seemed to have helped matters, because Gavin was able to spit out a whole sentence this time around. "My pack would like permission to relocate next to yours," he said at last.
So, not a troublesome request at all. Even though my own status as pack leader was on shaky ground, I was glad to lend whatever weight I had toward keeping this rather innocent alpha in power. In fact, having the Griffins close by would work to the Wilders' advantage since sheer number of allies would make more-powerful alphas reconsider any thoughts they might have about challenging a female pack leader.
So I was quick to agree...perhaps too quick. "Of course," I started...only to stutter to a halt. I'd realized just in time that I couldn't actually grant the Griffins permission to park their territory next to mine since Wolfie had adeptly cut my boundaries off from all comers. And despite my efforts to downplay ties to my mate, my eyes immediately rose to seek out the bloodling alpha...
...Only to find that Wolfie had, after hours of refusing to meet my gaze, finally turned around to stare in my direction. "Sure, he can set up over here," the bloodling said in a normal speaking voice, but my wolf ears easily picked up the distant words, as did the ears of everyone else around us. My mate elaborated by pointing off to the right, into his own empty territory, then he hopped down off the top of his vehicle and strode over to pace off a sizable chunk of land.
The area that Wolfie had allotted to the Griffins was larger than any territory the minor clan would have claimed on their own, and I saw Gavin hesitate as he took in Wolfie's combined generosity and challenge. But since the proffered area was surrounded on three sides by my mate's territory, if the Griffins trusted Wolfie to guard their backs, then patrolling their new borders wouldn't be any more onerous than their current situation. In fact, by choosing such a large territory, my wise mate had found a way to raise the worth of our allies while also
extending his usual protective hand to those smaller and weaker than himself.
"The more the merrier," Wolfie concluded, then started slipping out of his clothes in preparation for marking a new line across the grass in lupine form. As usual, the bloodling's actions were bound to shock the general assemblage, who tended to change forms within their tents, figuring that a public shift was an emotional shift and thus bad for the werewolf's image. But no one would dream of suggesting that Wolfie was changing to wolf form prematurely due to lack of control—of all the alphas present, my mate was the most in command of his wolf.
Not that Wolfie cared what any of us thought about his behavior. Or perhaps I was wrong, I realized, as my mate's lips quirked up just the tiniest bit as he slid his eyes in my direction, his nostrils flaring as he caught the scent of my arousal. It had been so long since I'd spent a moment alone with the bloodling alpha that I couldn't resist letting my eyes soak up every one of his gorgeous muscles as Wolfie's shoes, shirt, and finally pants and boxers hit the ground in quick succession. And the fact that he was putting on a show just for me made the whole experience that much more tantalizing...even though I had a feeling that every nearby female was also staring at the bloodling's naked body with hungry eyes.
Then, sooner than I would have liked, Wolfie's delicious form was completely hidden beneath a layer of fur, and I sucked in the breath that I'd forgotten to inhale while my mate was two-legged. Only when a wolf had replaced the naked hunk across the field did I think to glance in the opposite direction...where Wolfie's brother was glaring at us both through slitted eyes.
Had I gazed too long at the bloodling alpha, I wondered, and clued in his brother to where my affections truly lay?
And, when it came right down to it, did I really care?
Chapter 14
Wolfie must have caught the same view of his brother's glare that I had...or at least I hoped that was why my mate redoubled his efforts to ignore me. No matter the reason, I didn't manage to catch Wolfie's eye for the rest of the afternoon...which is the only way I can explain succumbing to Sarah's efforts to dress me in the guise of a pack princess for the upcoming ball.
Or maybe my lapse was caused by temporary insanity. The second explanation definitely does sound more likely.
"That's really what you plan to wear to the Princess Ball?" my tent-mate asked that evening, the girl's usually quiet voice suddenly loud with shock. Unfortunately for me, the dusk beginning to filter into our tent hadn't been enough to hide my jeans and t-shirt, and even I had to admit that the combo wasn't appropriate garb for what amounted to a debutante coming-out ball. But there hadn't been any spare gowns laying around back in Haven, and my usual fashion-coach—Cricket—had been too engrossed with worrying about her husband to suggest sewing an outfit in preparation for All-Pack. Still, the sparkly fabric that Sarah pulled out of her rather tremendous duffel bag made me back away in horror.
"Um, that's nice of you," I began. "But...."
"Oh, please," Sarah replied, tossing aside the glittery white outfit and digging deeper. "That one's for me—you'd swim in it with no bun in the oven. But this one..."
To my surprise, the little black dress that had been shoved into the bottom of Sarah's bag was actually acceptable. Because, even though the outfit would be more revealing than I was used to, at least the color would allow me to fade into the night if I was so inclined, my usual MO at these gatherings in the past having consisted of sneaking away as soon as was humanly possible to explore the nearby woods on my own. And while I wasn't thrilled at the idea of exposing so much cleavage (a clothing choice that somehow felt more titillating than being entirely naked), I did agree with my tent-mate that I'd blend better in her dress than in my jeans.
But why would Sarah have packed an outfit that she couldn't fit into in the first place?
"It's my security blanket," the pack princess replied to my unspoken question, watching me finger the scanty fabric with a bittersweet expression on her young face. "Mom gave it to me on my sixteenth birthday."
This was more personal information than Sarah had ever offered before, and I stayed silent in hopes she would elaborate. Finally, when the girl's sparse explanation seemed to be at an end, I looked up into her eyes, and for the first time since meeting "Trouble," I thought I might be able to discern the real personality lying beneath her skin. My uninvited guest wasn't just a pack princess, wrapping guys around her little finger in order to get her way. Sarah was a pregnant teenager, soon to be a single mother. And she was scared.
"I wouldn't want to risk spilling something on a dress you care so much about," I started, but Sarah just rolled her eyes at me and shook her head sternly while continuing to hold out the dress. So I accepted the ball of fabric out of her hands and tried another conversational tack. "Did you ever consider going back home to your parents after you left Justin?" I asked.
"I couldn't," the girl replied shortly, then looked away. The simplicity of her response made me want to fold the girl into my arms, but, like my stepmother, Sarah seemed to have a don't-touch-me force field about her. Yet another reason to pity my charge—a werewolf uncomfortable with touch would be pulled in two opposite directions at all times. And even though there was no excuse for outsourcing that discomfort to others, I finally forgave the girl for setting my cousin and Blaze at each other's throats. If sex appeal was the only power that this troubled teenager thought she possessed, no wonder she made use of her womanly wiles at every opportunity.
But the girl didn't seem interested in letting me any further into her confidence, so I decided not to dig deeper into her psyche just yet. Instead, I thanked my tent-mate in the only way I knew how—by shimmying out of my clothes and slipping into Sarah's loaned dress. And when that effort was rewarded with a hint of a smile, I even let the mother-to-be play with my hair, which she French braided instead of doctoring with the torture devices and sprays that came out of the huge duffel bag for use on her own mane. And, for that small mercy, I was eternally grateful.
Twenty minutes passed while Sarah prodded and hummed, treating me like a doll to be dressed and made up. But despite her apparent enjoyment of turning me into a passable imitation of a pack princess, my guest didn't speak again until she was nearly finished. Finally, while tying a ribbon around the base of my braid, the girl leaned closer and whispered in my ear: "You look beautiful tonight."
I hadn't been able to share confidences with a real girlfriend since I was a teenager, and as I turned to look up into this pack princess's eyes, I allowed myself to hope that Sarah just might fill that void. The smile we exchanged was tentative but heart-felt, and I imagined for a moment that we were enjoying a bright future in which Wolfie and I were reunited while Sarah and her bloodling pup ran wild with the yahoos. All of my current yearning and subterfuge would be rewarded, and Sarah and I would find something more interesting to talk about than skin-deep beauty and hair styles.
So my lips turned upwards at the girl's kindness...but then the happy expression faded from my face as Sarah finished with a timeless piece of advice: "So play hard to get."
It was a sign of how far I'd descended into All-Pack paranoia that my first thought was for eavesdropping shifters. But I quickly realized that anyone who might have heard the girl's whisper would just assume that Sarah was referring to my supposed pursuit of her ex-mate. I, on the other hand, understood that the girl had caught my angstful stares in the direction of Justin's brother, and that she felt I needed to be a bit wilier if I wanted to catch and hold the interest of such an enticing male.
And even though I knew that Sarah was wrong, that Wolfie and I had no need to play games with one another, I still couldn't prevent the girl's well-intentioned words from sinking their claws into my stomach and ripping with all the vim and vigor of Sarah's own internal bloodling. After all, Wolfie had avoided me all day, seemingly no more interested in my presence than he was in that of the other pack leaders scattered across the field. Had absence made Wolfie's heart grow
fonder...or was this a case of out of sight, out of mind?
***
The presence of a dozen beautifully made-up pack princesses at the ball that evening certainly didn't help ease my internal struggle, nor did Wolfie's apparent intention to dance with each girl in quick succession. As a result, I could barely keep my attention on the alphas I was supposed to be dancing with, instead twisting my head constantly in an effort to trace my mate's path across the dance floor.
"But which of you is really the pack leader?" my current partner, the Gray alpha, asked. "You or your father?"
I was saved from answering this tricky question by the flow of the dance, two long lines of shifters reforming as we came out of our hands-across and then immediately transitioning into a series of reels. You would have thought that Scottish country dancing would be too straight-laced for wild werewolves, but the truth was that we all looked forward to the Princess Ball on the second night of All-Pack. And, as my current partner and I split apart and then drifted close together again at intervals, I could see why the event was so well attended. Not only did dancing make it easier to avoid unwanted conversations, the ball also gave us girls the chance to peruse long male legs partially clad in the miniskirts that men insisted in calling "kilts."
"Yum-my," Fen whispered as I curved around her stationary form. Then she winked as my eye unconsciously drifted down the field toward Wolfie, who was now paired up with Sarah at the other end of the dance floor.
Pack Princess: A Fantastical Werewolf Adventure (Wolf Rampant Book 2) Page 11
