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“Of course. I’ll get the guys together. Once we know what we’re doing, I’ll put together obstacle courses and practice runs to make sure we move like a well-oiled machine.”
“That’s what I like to hear.” My lips pulled away from my teeth as I grinned. “Earlier, I was debating whether or not I should go on another run, but I think I’ve made my decision now.”
Dom grinned. “Do you want company?”
“No, I’m good. You get things started. We’ll talk again once we have something more in place.”
“Understood.”
He ran back toward the compound while I removed my clothes. The moon was waxing high in the sky as I gathered my clothing into a bundle and stashed it in the branches of a tree to pick up later. It was only ten degrees that night, but I didn’t feel the cold.
I let my wolf move to the forefront of my mind as I receded to the background. The shift rippled across my body, replacing skin with thick, black fur. In seconds, I dropped to all fours. In this form, I could smell the scents of spring blooms so strongly that I could almost taste them on my tongue. I stretched my forepaws out in front of me, shook out my pelt, and then took off, disappearing between the trees like a shadow winking into the darkness.
My senses, heightened in my wolf form, allowed me to scent out a small rabbit only a few yards ahead of me. It wasn’t a full meal by any stretch, but it would give my wolf the chance to let loose a bit. With murder fresh on my mind, I pursued the rabbit with dogged intent. All I knew was the depth of the night, the crisp scent of the cold air, and the anticipation of hot blood on my tongue.
4
BRYN
Two days had passed since Gregor’s death, but I was no closer to finding a solution to the Troy problem. I stood in front of the mirror in my room, smoothing down the skirt of my dress for the Alpha’s funeral. In the reflection, I saw the wildflowers on my dresser casting long shadows across the room—dusk was quickly approaching. Everyone in the Kings’ pack would begin gathering at the eastern portion of the compound in a few minutes. Mom and I would be among them soon.
“Mom,” I called. “Are you sure I have to go to this? Won’t I…attract attention?”
“It’s a pack thing, sweetie,” Mom called back. “It would be stranger if you didn’t show up.”
“Are you sure? Because I’m pretty sure no one wants me there.”
“Bryn, honey, it’s not about whether or not they want you there. This is pack business, and you’re part of the pack. Gregor, for better or worse, was just as much your Alpha as anyone else’s. You must pay your respects to his memory, even if it’s brief.”
I sighed. “Okay…” Though I had never felt truly part of the Kings’ pack, I’d grown up on its territory. Gregor hadn’t given a damn about me, but he’d kept the territory safe from humans, Wargs, and anything else that wanted to cause harm to his pack. I knew well that he would have forced me out if not for Mom, whose agricultural skills were unmatched by anyone else in the pack, but I supposed it would be disrespectful not to say my goodbyes.
I met my stone-blue gaze in the mirror and again ran my hands down my skirt. The dress was one of my mom’s nicer hand-me-downs, something she called the “little black dress” of her youth. Though I was reluctant to attend the funeral, I had to admit that the half-sleeve sheath dress showed off the curves of my bust and hips nicely. My hair, curled after a night in rollers, fell to the middle of my back in perfect, bouncy ringlets.
I’d borrowed Mom’s worn-down pencil liner and had drawn a thin, black line around my eyes the way that she showed me when I was young. The slight change helped make my eyes pop against the pale, smooth skin of my face. I spent many long hours in the garden outside, but I’d never been able to keep much of a tan. In the summer, I normally darkened for a few days, but it always faded away by the time winter hit.
Pale as the snowcapped mountains, I smirked at myself. I wonder if that mystery man in my dreams would like me much if he could see me outside of the dream. Of course, he probably wasn’t real, so I’d never know how he felt about me.
I pushed my hair over my shoulder and bent to pick up my shoes, a pair of black ballet flats that were so worn down I’d have to be careful if I wanted them to stay on my feet. I frowned at them for a while, and then inspiration struck. I removed the black laces from my work shoes and looped them under my soles. I crisscrossed them over my calves and tied them off at the back.
I studied my feet in the mirror. Heels would have been better—they would’ve added flattering height to my five feet four inches—but all we had access to were outdated, old-fashioned clothes. My outfits were limited to what the rest of the pack no longer wanted or had outgrown.
The Kings’ pack loved to look as fashionable and as wealthy as possible. Wolves who went to human towns for supplies often brought back clothing and home goods for the pack. As the hierarchy went, the wolves who were close to the Redwolf family had first pick of the new clothes. After the Redwolfs’ inner circle, the younger wolves who sought to attract mates were given preference. Then came the families of the compound, the ones who had already settled down. Finally, Mom and I were so far down the pecking order that we were never given the opportunity to pick from the new goods.
Because the Kings’ pack went through apparel so quickly, there was an abundance of wasted fabric. Sometimes that fabric would be recycled into the pack as blankets or home textiles, but the bulk of the fabric was dispersed among other packs in the area, beginning with those most in the Kings’ pack’s good graces. The Wargs, of course, were never given any of the Kings’ resources.
My solution to the issue of the worn-out flats was a little spur of the moment, but I’d make do. And maybe I was biased, but I kind of liked the way the black laces looked against the pale skin of my legs. I wondered if I’d ever be able to find someone who made me feel confident and desirable.
That question caused me to think about the green-eyed stranger again. Lately, whenever I had a quiet moment to myself, he returned to my thoughts. The only place I felt safe and warm, other than with my mom, was when I was with him, in my dreams. I wished desperately that he were real.
Mom’s head popped through my open door as I pulled on my jacket. “Are you ready?”
I jumped. “Y-yeah! Are you?”
Mom grinned and stepped further inside. “What do you think?”
My eyes widened. Mom looked twenty years younger in her own black dress. It was a warmer day, so she wore nothing on her feet, as was the custom of shifters when the ground wasn’t wet. Her silver hair was wrapped into a chic chignon bun at the nape of her neck, with a few tendrils hanging at the sides, brushing gently across her shoulders.
“Oh, wow, Mom! You look like a stone-cold fox.”
