True werewolf pack? What the hell does that mean?
“Unless you count the Ludenwic wolves in London and the Rus wolves in Russia,” added Gabriel.
Pierre bared his fangs at his brother. “You’re not helping right now.”
He turned back to Melinda, his canines sliding back up into his gums, and Melinda fought the urge to shrink away from him, from those teeth. This wasPierre.
“Us”—Pierre sent a loaded glare in his brother’s direction—“the Ludenwic wolves and the Rus wolves are the only werewolves who can…turn human beings into werewolves.”
Oh, God.Melinda was out of her chair, retreating. Annabelle, Stefanie and Isobella had never mentionedthatwhen they’d hadtheir talk in the bar downstairs. Because she’d not asked that question? She hadn’t known enough to ask it.
Annabelle shrugged. “Sorry, Melinda.” The witch’s face beamed with sincerity. “It’s not knowledge the pack sanctions to be spread. It wasn’t our place to tell you.”
She could understand why. Werewolves running around, turning humans into more werewolves—it was like something out of a black-and-white horror film. Her eyes widened. Did they do that? Would Pierre and Louis do that?
Pierre stiffened, his expression shuttered. “We don’t do that, Melinda.”
What? How did he…?
Hurt flashed in Louis’ eyes. “We can read your body, your scent,chouquette.You were imagining us roaming the streets of San Francisco looking for fresh victims. That’s not how things work.”
No? How did they work then?
“Our alpha must sanction all turnings,” explained Pierre. “It’s been that way for centuries. There’s only ever been one reason he’ll accept a turning without question.”
“And that reason is?”
The entire room held its breath as every gaze settled on her.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Louis hadn’t wanted Melinda to find out like this. Tension held his twin’s body rigid. Neither had Pierre. It was all kinds of fucked up. A room full of people. Everyone staring at her. Melinda the only human.
Stefanie rose from the sofa and grabbed her purse. “I think this might be our cue to leave. Give these guys some time to talk, hm?”
Melinda sucked in a breath. Did she not want to be alone with them now? He could only hope, as with the night she’d found out they were werewolves, Melinda would come around. That the developing bond between the three of them would be too strong for her to resist and would override her fear.
The click of the door closing behind the others was loud in the silence of the penthouse.
“Don’t be afraid of us, Melinda. Please.” He reached for her, but she took another step back. “Have we not proved ourselves to you over the last few days?”
Her distrust tainting the air, Melinda clenched and unclenched her hands. Louis couldn’t blame her. It must seem as though she was being hit with one secret after another. The most damaging one was yet to come. If Pierre had his way, it would never come out.
She wiped her hands down her jeans.Merde.He wanted to scoop her up in his arms and comfort her, promise her the world. He’d give it to her, too. So would Pierre. But she wasn’thaving any of that right now, and if he made any move, he suspected she’d run.
Melinda raised her chin. “Tell me what reason your alpha would accept without question.”
Straight to the heart of it all. Courageous little thing. Fierce pride burned in his chest.
“First,” said Pierre, “you must understand why.”
“How about we all relax a little?” suggested Louis. Standing here, Melinda looking like at any moment she might decide this was all too much for her, and Pierre—as rigid as a marble statue, the muscle ticking in his jaw the only hint he wasn’t—wasn’t helping anything. “Melinda, why don’t you go make yourself comfortable on the sofa? Pierre will make you some more tea, and I’ll order us some room service. Something sweet. How about some key lime pie? It was the next one on my list to try.”
“Really, Louis?” Pierre snapped. “We’re in the middle of something important here. And you’ve justhada huge slice of pecan pie not five minutes ago. Now is not the time to indulge ourselves.”
Louis begged to differ. Now was the perfect time for a little comfort food. “Pierre.” He turned to his brother, allowing a hint of fang to show. “Go make Melinda some tea.”
Pierre opened his mouth to protest further. Louis growled, a low rumble deep in his chest, and he bared his teeth at his twin. It was rare for him to step up and give the orders. Pierre had always been the more dominant twin, always in charge. Louis had no need, or desire, to question the status quo, happy to follow his brother’s lead. But sometimes his brother’s desire to control things meant he missed the emotional signals. When things called for a gentler approach. Like now.
