Connell sat next to her on the only bar stool, staring at her with a little too much smug satisfaction. Reaching over, he snagged the peanut butter jar from her with a lightning quick flick of his wrist. Even his fingers looked muscular.
Was she looking at her mate right now? If she was, the Mother had one twisted sense of humor…
Connell washed his dish and dressed slower than usual. He’d been so determined to get Logan to the compound, but now, he could barely summon the enthusiasm to leave. After last night, he wasn’t sure he wanted to share her with his pack.
It would normally have been a point of pride to take his mate to the compound and have her meet his family. But he’d left a mess at home, and he wasn’t looking forward to cleaning it up. Not with Logan around to watch.
At least Riley won’t be around to fuck shit up. He relaxed a bit. If his ex were gone, then things would be a bit easier. He could handle everyone else if she wasn’t around to spread her poison.
“We should get going,” he said, stacking dishes in the small rack next to the sink to dry. Even he could hear the reluctance in his voice.
Logan frowned at him. “Are you all right?”
“Are you still coming with me?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m all right,” he said, grabbing their gear and taking it out to the car.
He opened the passenger side door for her. She disappointed him by flashing over the distance in a blink, appearing in the car and buckling her seatbelt in a soft, fluid motion.
Damn. There went his scent. He locked up the cabin and got into the driver’s seat, slamming the door a little harder than necessary.
“Is something wrong?” Logan asked innocently, a little Mona Lisa smile playing on her lips.
She knew. The little minx knew he’d done his damnedest to ensure she smelled like him all over, and that it was erased when she dematerialized.
“Everything’s fine,” he ground out, throwing the truck into drive.
“Uh-huh,” she murmured, getting comfortable in the seat the way only a small person could.
He shook his head at her, the motion abrupt. Snaking out his hand, he pulled down the neckline of her turtleneck and scowled. The half-bite on her neck was gone too. Double damn. Elementals healed faster than Weres. How would everyone know she was his if he couldn’t mark her?
Inhaling deeply, he relaxed. He couldn’t mark her permanently, not yet. When he got his wolf back, he would be able to take care of that. The bite of a wolf claiming his mate was bulletproof. It never failed, no matter who or what you were.
He drove in silence, but he wasn’t annoyed this time when Logan fell asleep after a few minutes. Her trust in him was gratifying. Leaning down, he picked up her pack and reached inside the front pocket where he’d seen an earbud cable peeking out earlier. Fishing out a small MP3 player, he scanned the playlists. He didn’t recognize very many of the artists.
Choosing something called L’exode by bl0b at random, he put the volume on low and connected the player to the sound system. He was surprised when a soft, haunting composition filled the air. He almost skipped to the next track, but the song resonated in his brain, a mixture of anxious purpose and classic beauty that made him keep it on.
Logan stirred during one of the crescendos, but she didn’t wake.
It had started to rain, but the cabin of the truck was warm and comfortable. In spite of the circumstances, it felt good to drive his mate home.
Logan woke up as soon as Connell put his hand on her arm. She smiled at him.
“I was going to hassle you for sleeping most of the trip, but when you smile like that, I forget to be annoyed,” he said, his eyes zeroing on her lips before lifting to meet her gaze.
She wrinkled her nose at him. “You have only yourself to blame. You didn’t let me get much sleep last night. Besides, I learned the hard way that I need to catch my Zs whenever I can. You never know when something’s going to start that keeps you up for days.”
Yawning, she sat up straight before looking around with a frown. They were at the top of a rise overlooking an isolated valley. Nestled in the middle of a bare field was a long, two-story building. It was the only structure in sight. Mountains rose up on all sides a few miles away.
“Is this the compound?” she asked, mouth pursing. “I thought there would be more buildings. You know, more Camp David and less…barn.”
“We’re not at the compound. While you were asleep, I got a call. We’ve detoured fifty miles. This is the howf, although we call it the longhouse for obvious reasons,” he explained with a gesture to the long, rectangular building.
“A howf is a meeting place, right? Shouldn’t it be in your compound?”
“We have one there too, but we need more than one. The Basin Pack is a coalition of several smaller packs. My father isn’t just the alpha for the local pack; he also functions as the chieftain for all the ones in this part of the country. All told, there’s close to nine hundred of us. If you count those who defer to my father as counselor, then there are triple that across the Americas. Depending on the parties concerned, we shift around for the howf. This place is used for particularly big meetings. It used to be neutral territory before the packs were united under my father.”
“I thought your grandfather united the packs,” Logan said, toying with the felt of the seat cover.
“My grandfather started it, but he couldn’t finish it. My father did that. And since then, his position hasn’t been challenged. Not seriously anyway, not in decades.”
He paused. “It’s a little weird hearing an outsider speak so knowledgeably about us. Werewolves are a little xenophobic. We don’t share our internal affairs with others as a rule.”
“It’s my job to know these things,” she said, looking at him from underneath her lashes. “So why did we detour?”
Connell’s face tightened. “My father called a meeting for all the packs in his purview. There’s been another.”
“Another what?” Logan asked, perplexed, before her face cleared. “Another member of the pack lost their wolf?” She put her feet down on the floor, her adrenaline surging.
He nodded grimly. “My father’s third, Malcolm Ingram, called me. He was surprised to hear I was on my way back. The attack happened the day before yesterday. It’s a cub this time—the youngest son of my father’s best friend Bishop Kane.” Connell shook his head as he drove closer to the howf. “His name is Sammy. He’s only seven.”
So young? “I’m so sorry. How is he?”
“Alive, but from the sound of things, he’s even more messed up than I was. He was taken to our house, and a healer was summoned. But they weren’t able to do anything for me, so the chances they can help him are pretty low. Not unless we can figure out who or what is doing this.”
“I should see Sammy now,” Logan said, looking askance at the longhouse.
“I know, but he’s stable for now. The healer is with him, and you and I need to make an appearance here. The packs are feeling pretty threatened. Tensions are running high. Before things blow up, my father is hoping to diffuse the situation.”
He slowed the truck down to face her as he spoke. “It was different when it was me. I was a soldier and an enforcer. The others—even the ones who like me—are used to the idea of me getting hurt. This is something else.”
Logan nodded darkly, her stomach muscles tensing. “A second case involving a child is disturbing. If it’s a Supernatural at fault, this is a clear violation of the Covenant. Not that it wasn’t before when you were first attacked, but the fact that it’s a little kid makes it doubly so.”
He agreed with a murmur. They were almost at the longhouse. To one side, she could see a large group of cars parked on the flattest stretch of open land. Most were trucks and SUVs. Connell pulled up next to a flatbed and turned off the engine.
“The meeting will have started by now. We’re the last to arrive. I should warn you. I told Malcolm you were with me and that you
r kind wasn’t responsible, but tempers are running hot inside. Most won’t believe you’re innocent, not right away. Not until they’ve heard you speak, so they can smell the truth of your words. They want someone to blame. You should tread carefully. And…” He broke off with a headshake.
“And what?”
He looked uncertain for a moment. His hesitation was so uncharacteristic that she sat up straighter.
“What is it?”
“Well, it’s just that there’s a lot of very pissed-off werewolves in that building. Male wolves. Women aren’t allowed at these meetings. And there are at least two or three men from each pack, which means there are something like a hundred wolves in there. And most aren’t used to deferring to a woman. My father in particular…”
“So what are you saying?” Logan asked, even though she had a pretty good idea of what was coming.
Connell gave her a concerned glance. “I would recommend that you be…respectful. I know you can handle yourself in a fair fight, but there are too many wolves in there if things get out of control. If things go south, do your Harry Potter thing and meet me at my house. I wrote down the address,” he said, handing her a slip of paper.
She wanted to roll her eyes, but she knew Connell was trying to protect her in his own way. Trying to look appropriately grateful, she took the slip of paper and put it in her pocket as she got out of the truck. Connell took a defensive position in front of her as he led the way to the longhouse.
Logan smiled through her annoyance, but it faded when she remembered what he’d said. No women allowed. She sniffed to herself. This should be fun.
The shouting of many male voices could be heard from outside. Connell opened one side of the double doors. Gesturing for her to stay behind him, he slipped inside the shadowy room.
Logan followed him, her eyes adjusting instantly from the bright sunshine outside. The room was one large rectangle. Even though it was tall enough to be two stories tall, it was only one. Instead of a second level, there was a catwalk around the entire room. Massive wood rafters occasionally crossed the sturdy-looking walkway. Hanging from every corner were werewolves of every shape, size, and description.
Except female.
Most of the men were massive and muscular like Connell, although none matched his height or muscle definition. She could have been biased on that last, however. There were even some kids there, teenage boys and a scattered handful of preteens here and there. Only the youngest male cubs were absent.
Too many people were talking at once, or shouting, in order to be heard over one another. It was like a wall of sound, one with a lot of bass.
No one had noticed them yet. Connell was scanning the crowd for his father. Logan knew him as soon as she spotted him. He was the older version of his son, tall and handsome, except his eyes were blue and his dark hair was threaded with silver at the temples.
Douglas was in the center of the maelstrom, leaning on a wooden support beam that bisected the room in half just opposite the door. He seemed content to let the assembled crowd get all the shouting out of their system until he saw Connell. His eyes locked onto his son’s face in relief, but it was short lived.
When he saw Logan standing next to Connell, his expression changed. It was wary for a fraction of a second, and then all emotion melted away. He did inscrutable much better than his son did. It could have earned him a fortune at the poker tables.
Douglas stepped into the middle of the room and held up his hand. The assembled group of Weres stopped shouting, although a low grumbling continued in the background like the sound of a rough ocean.
She and Connell were finally noticed by the others. Logan could feel the censure of so many eyes on her body like so many pinpricks.
If looks could kill.
Although not everyone was looking at her as if they wanted her dead. Some glances were dismissive; others were confused.
“Welcome back, son,” Douglas said, moving to embrace Connell.
“Is this her?” called out another voice. “Is this that thing?”
Logan turned in time to see the hulking shape of another Were rushing toward her. Connell reacted, moving to stand in front of her, but Logan dematerialized to stand in front of him instead. The Were crashed into her, his speed checked hard when she put out her hand. Instead of using her wind power, she grabbed the man by the neck, lifted him up, and tossed him aside like a rag doll. He hit the wall opposite with a crash.
It all happened in the blink of an eye.
Logan leaned back, bending at the waist to look up at Connell. “Was that respectful enough, do you think?” she asked, unable to stop herself from sounding cheeky.
A pin drop could be heard in the formerly noisy room. Connell put a hand over his face and sighed as Logan struggled not to smile. She turned back to Douglas.
“I hear you have a problem,” she said.
Douglas gave Logan a thorough once-over. Although Connell was a good three inches taller, his father also towered above her. She gave him her warmest, friendliest smile, and his eyes dilated slightly, but he didn’t move to welcome her in any way.
If she were a different kind of Supernatural, he would have been doing a damn fine job of intimidating her. In fact, for a split second, the instinct to drop her gaze in submission almost overwhelmed her. But only for a second. Maybe two.
Douglas’ authority was innate and powerful. It radiated from him like an aura, which was mostly red and gold like his son’s. It wasn’t hard to see why he was the man who had been able to unite so many different warring packs into a workable coalition. Given the volatile temperament of the average Were, it was a serious achievement.
“Connell said you and your kind weren’t involved.” Douglas said in a voice full of gravel.
Logan immediately wanted to offer him a hot tea or a lozenge, but that would have to wait.
“We weren’t,” she said in a clear voice that carried to every corner of the room. “I told Connell this already. No Were has been stripped for decades. Killed, yes,” she said, spinning to check out the others in the room over as they did the same to her.
Her announcement started the grumbling again, but she continued undaunted.
“The last was a rogue in the Andes who was attacking village children,” she continued. “And as you know, we don’t interfere in your internal issues—we restrict our punishments to those outside pack law. But no shifter has been stripped of their second form since before I was born.”
“Why should we believe that?” the man she’d knocked down shouted.
His voice was strong, even though he was still struggling to get up. Logan scanned him. It didn’t appear as if she’d broken anything of his.
“That’s it, big guy, shake it off,” she said in an undertone as the Were got to his feet.
He walked a little unsteadily to stand next to the chief, aggression and distrust coming from him like a bad smell. He was as tall as Douglas, with inky-black hair a little shorter than Connell’s. Dark green fatigue pants were paired with a black T-shirt that showed off an impressive set of biceps.
“She’s lying,” he barked.
Logan’s voice dropped several degrees in temperature. “I thought your kind could smell a lie?”
The murmur of voices around them grew louder as the assembled group of Weres argued, mostly about her scent. A few brave souls got closer, making a show of sniffing the air around her.
She waited, giving everyone a chance to decide if she was friend or foe before smirking back up at Connell. “Glad I showered,” she said under her breath.
He smiled in spite of himself when a few of the cubs snickered. A Were’s hearing was almost as good as their sense of smell, and even the youngest one in the room had caught that.
“You don’t smell like anything,” a wrinkled Were with grey hair said.
Several others around the room nodded their agreement.
“Not true. She smells like the wind,” Connell corrected. Douglas gla
nced at him sharply, but he didn’t say anything. “And she was with me when Sammy was attacked,” he finished with a meaningful glance at the angry Were.
The stranger scowled. “You saw how fast she moves. The way she disappears. She could have attacked Sammy and been back before you knew it.”
“She can only move as fast as the wind. There wasn’t enough time. And if what Malcolm says is accurate, Sammy’s attack happened when we were still in Provence, France,” Connell stated inflexibly.
The other man bristled. “That doesn’t mean anything. There are four of them. It could have been one of the others!”
“She said it wasn’t, and I believe her,” Connell shot back, putting a protective hand on her shoulder.
For a second, Douglas’s eyes flared in surprise, but his son didn’t notice. The chief watched them, his eyes trained on that small point of contact, but his face cleared when Connell stopped touching her.
“Look, I’m sorry about your brother,” Logan told the angry Were, trying for diplomacy now that she’d established her position of strength. “I’m here to help in any way that I can.”
Murmurs of surprised speculation followed. Logan cocked her head, listening to the whispers on the wind until she caught the right name.
“Yogi, can you tell me what happened to Sammy?” she asked politely.
Yogi’s head drew back in surprise. He glared at Connell. “Did you tell her my name?”
Connell shook his head. “They did,” he said, pointing at the sky.
“Who are they?” Yogi asked, staring at Logan like she was something that crawled out of a gutter.
Connell shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t want to know.”
Logan pressed her lips together hard, masking her surprise. Did Connell just insinuate what she thought he had? Did he know how she got her intel?
No, that’s impossible. She’d misunderstood, or he had. It didn’t matter. She had a mystery to solve, and they were wasting time.
Clearing her throat, she repeated herself. “What happened to Sammy?” she asked again, raising her voice, although she was careful to keep her tone civil.
The Elementals Collection Page 38
