Page 34 of Crimson Moon Falling

My lips curled, and he watched me with hooded eyes. Someone called him, and he glanced over his shoulder. “I need to get ready for the Run. Will you be alright?”

“I’m good.” He pressed a soft kiss to my lips, then buried his nose in the crook of my neck before walking back to the gathering on the lawn.

Micah and Jamie talked beside me as I watched Conall and his Pack interact, noting the shifters gravitating around him. The hierarchy was complex, constantly being negotiated through subtle gestures and positioning. I filed away my observations.

“Holy shit, I haven’t seen you in forever.” Sahara stalked toward me, her dark blonde hair streaked with a lilac blue color this time. She carried two beer bottles and held one out to me.

“Thanks.” I practiced my smile again and accepted the bottle. Sahara hopped onto the deck railing beside me.

“I hear the implant thing can’t ever come out. How’re you doing?” She took a swig.

I stared at her, then took a sip myself. Leave it to Sahara to cut through the awkwardness. “There are a few abnormal side effects, but we’re figuring it out.”

“You’ve got this blank stare going on sometimes. Very mysterious and badass, but also kinda creepy.”

“Is that my reputation? Mysterious and a little creepy?”

She shrugged. “More smart than creepy. Shifters are the worst gossips, and since you came back from Roswell with a flesh-eating implant attached to your brain stem, there’s been a lot of talk.”

I choked on the beer. “I don’t have a flesh-eating implant. It’s made of polycarbonate urethane and is biocompatible, not flesh-eating. Show some respect.” I swore I felt the thing shiver, as if it was also offended by her description. I tried to process the strange sensation and missed what Sahara said next.

“Say that again?”

She rolled her eyes. “See? You had that weird look again. There are some other interesting rumors about you.”

“Like what?”

“Half the Pack thinks you’re some sort of operative or assassin, and the other half thinks you’ve got Conall under some kind of spell.”

“I’m not–”

“An assassin or a witch? Yeah, I know.” She grinned. “You’re just an ISB agent with crazy off-the-charts power, a fucking weird implant, and no clue how interesting that makes you.”

This time, a genuine chuckle escaped me. It was short and rusty, but real. Sahara’s eyes widened. “Was that an actual laugh?”

“Yes, I think it was.” I took another sip and pointed to the group of women shifters who were hovering around Conall and Ash. “Who are those women? The ones who keep glaring.”

Sahara snorted. “Ah, the Mean Pack Girls of Denver. Center stage is Lexa Rowland. She grew up with Conall. The blonde to her left is Kelsey Montgomery. She’s a snob and comes from old money. And the dark-haired one is Ashley Masterson. The first two have been trying to get their claws into Conall since puberty.”

“They’re not very subtle.”

“Subtlety isn’t exactly a wolf trait. They’re mad because a geeky Cognizant, non-shifter with strange hair stole their Alpha. Their quote, not mine.” She set her bottle down. “Drew told me that Lexa and Conall had a thing for about five minutes. She’s not too bad, but she never moved on.”

“I didn’t steal anything.”

“They know, and that stings even more. Wanna say hello? You could make them address you as the Alpha’s Mate.”

I calculated the social ramifications. “That’d be petty and counterproductive.”

“Which is exactly why it would be fun.” Sahara nudged my shoulder. “Come on, live a little. Doctor‘s orders, right? Strong emotional experiences and all that jazz.”

“How did you know?”

“Conall spread the word around the Pack house. You’re our pet charity project for the next few months.”

I shook my head at her blunt candor, but something like gratitude flickered beneath the ice. Sahara treated me like a person, not a broken thing to be pitied.

“Maybe if they’re rude, I’ll introduce myself.”