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Duncan groaned. “I’m so not in the mood for that. I’ll watch you suckers do that while I drink. It’s been a hell of a day.”
“You could stay in and read?” Elliot smirked.
Duncan chuckled. “Like I own a book.”
Mercer’s phone rang. “I’m sure you own a book,” he said as he pulled it from his pocket.
“Do magazines with big titties count?” Duncan’s lips curled wickedly.
“If it’s got words in it.” Mercer frowned down at his phone before glancing up. “Thatcher.”
The room went quiet as Mercer answered and paced once more. It was mostly a one-sided conversation, and very short. Less than a minute later, Mercer hung up and went to his locker for his jacket.
“He wants me to meet him at the lodge. I’ll catch up with you later.”
Duncan watched the door until it shut. “He’s in trouble, isn’t he?”
The words were so softly spoken, Callum wasn’t sure Duncan had meant to say them out loud.
The mating pull and a summons from Thatcher. Sydney’s announcement. The day seemed destined to end on a sour note.
CHAPTER NINE
Using his napkin, Thatcher wiped the corner of his lip where pasta sauce had lingered after his final forkful of spaghetti. Next to him, Norman stared down at his plate, pushing a piece of meatloaf around.
Thatcher sat back in his chair and examined the room. He’d asked the hostess for a seat in a secluded corner where he wouldn’t be disturbed.
Mama Jolene and Papa D’s little restaurant was a popular eatery and, aside from a few bars and pubs, it was one of the best places to get a feel for the pack’s vibe.
As alpha, he often had to rely on what his underlings reported, but it was all too easy for those beneath him to lie and tell him what he wanted to hear.
Eavesdropping on pack members as they conversed over dinner, or over drinks, gave him a good idea of which reports he could believe.
From the back of the room, in a secluded area, he picked up bits of conversation. Mostly the pack was excited about Curusm.
He smiled at the waitress, who removed his empty plate. “Thank you, sweetness. The regular for dessert, please.”
“Yes, Alpha.” Her gaze didn’t meet his. Of course, the last time she had met his gaze had been when her lips were wrapped around his dick, and tears had been streaming down her cheeks.
Thatcher’s jaw tightened.
As she reached for his fork and spoon, he grabbed her wrist. “Actually, deliver it to the lodge when your shift is over.”
Now her gaze lifted to his. Her face filled with fear, but he scented her arousal. The combination of the two had him hard beneath the table.
“Yes, Alpha.” Her words were even softer this time, barely above a whisper, before she scurried away, almost bumping into another server.
The wolf in him tracked her movements. He’d always liked them a little scared, with just enough fight and objection to get his blood pumping, but ultimately, they knew who was in charge.
But nothing, none of them would ever come close to those few sweet months he’d spent with his fated mate. He’d been chasing that high for decades.
His mood souring, he motioned to Norman. “Get a takeout container. We’re leaving.”
After placing a quick call to Mercer, he emerged from his secluded spot and left Norman to fumble for a server’s attention.
Making his way through the room, he greeted people here and there. It took him over twenty minutes to leave the restaurant. He and Norman headed toward the lodge.
On the way, they passed Hara and Oz, two pack omegas. Three years running in the Curusm and they hadn’t caught a mate. They were physically useless, but Hara was definitely on his radar—the man was intelligent.
