Courtney pullsher audacious yellow truck into the empty space next to my bike. I chose to make the drive on two wheels because I wanted the freedom and alone time I could only find while running as a wolf and riding my Harley.
This meeting place is relatively central to all the packs involved, which means we had to travel three hours to get here.
I don’t like being so far from my territory, but it helps that this is neutral ground.
The warehouse appears abandoned. But I’ve been here before, and I know the forbidding exterior is one of the most appealing aspects of this building for the owner.
Said owner strides toward us now. Alistar, warlock of great power and provider of our safe meeting place.
The man has on a suit, and his hair is slicked back, showing off his sharp features. I’ve heard him called handsome before, but all I see is power. And cockiness.
“Ah, the pair from Pine Falls. Welcome to my humble abode.” The man spreads his arms wide, knowing this place isneither humble nor where he lives. “But this beta doesn’t look like your lovely mother.”
“You saying I don’t give off MILF vibes?” Courtney flicks her hair over her shoulder and cocks her hip while affecting a dramatic pout. “Damn, man, way to bruise my ego.”
His eyes widen.
“Alistar.” I nod, ignoring the snarky comments. “This is Courtney. My beta.”
At least until my mother earns her way out of her exile. Although who knows? Maybe the pack magic has forever shifted.
Neither Courtney nor I offer a hand to shake. We know better than to let a warlock touch us. Not that I expect any foul play from Alistar. But it’s best to be cautious.
And I don’t like how he’s still staring at my beta with an interested gleam in his eye.
“Courtney. Beta from Pine Falls. Lovely to meet you,” he purrs.
“Oh, Ally.” She gives him her cheekiest grin. “You’re just saying that ’cause you haven’t gotten to know me yet.”
He blinks, and if anything, the interest intensifies. But he turns to me.
“Come. Join the party.” He ushers us through the front door, and the illusion of decay fades to show a modern entryway that seems almost hotel-like. There are plenty of overnight rooms in this place, so the layout makes sense.
“Fancy.” Courtney doesn’t sound impressed, only curious.
“Your room key.” Alistar waves a hand, and a skeleton key appears on a low table to my left. “You’re in room thirteen.”
“Ooh, my favorite,” Courtney murmurs.
The warlock grins. “Don’t start feeling too special. Every guest is in room thirteen. It’s only that everyone’s thirteen is different.” He winks and then waves for us to follow him.
The massive amount of power it requires to run this place always astonishes me. I’ve never asked where he draws it all from. Partly because I doubt Alistar would reveal his secrets. But I’m also not sure I want to know the answer.
“Here we are. Meeting of the hounds. Remember, no dog fighting.”
With a flourish, two large metal doors swing open to reveal a spacious conference room. Werewolves from the four corner states—Colorado, Utah, New Mexico, and Arizona—mill around at the edges, the center of the room taken up by a round conference table. No head of the table here. We’re all on equal footing.
This is the third gathering of the packs I’ve attended. They are held four days after the eleventh full moon of the year, every five years. The thought process was that the time of year was long enough for the hype of the moon to have drained from our system while also being close enough to a good run that none of us would be on edge.
Or at least, no more on edge than can be expected in a room of powerful werewolves.
Holding the meeting every five years means each pack can provide a decent roundup of important events. Births, deaths, alliances, punishments, shifts in territory, and whatever else might influence wolves in other packs.
That’s the whole point of this meeting of the packs. To keep the peace.
The practice was established roughly thirty years ago. Before that, fights among packs had been much more common. But as technology advanced, risk of exposure grew with it. Fifteen pack leaders called a truce and established this meeting.
I’ve heard similar practices occur all over the country now, but I haven’t had time to explore. Not when I took on theleadership role at only eighteen. Since then, I’ve barely left Pine Falls. Even now, I feel as though my wolves are vulnerable.
