Page 2 of Red

That same energy comes off him. Like he doesn’t care that I’m here, but that’s impossible. Who would want to be responsible for a random girl they’ve never met, let alone a twenty-five-year-old. Most drop their gazes when I come across them. Cohorts spend a lot of time together, and Pratt does things differently for me. Did things.

Heat flickers across me. This is going to take a while to get used to.

I’ve met everyone in the pack before, but I couldn’t tell you who they are now.

The lead Elder who was talking with Stark steps up to us. Graden’s hair is gray, like most Elders, with a clean-shaven face, and a slight hunch to his stance. If he stood tall, he’d be close to Stark’s height. “Aloka Tutten, it’s great to have you here.” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes as he analyzes me—the mystery of Pratt’s sister.

“I didn’t have much of a choice. I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

Graden looks over my head. “Let’s eat,” he announces to the room. Not shocking—they know what I want and it’s easy to ignore my wishes to leave. If only they respected me as much as Pratt and that damn letter.

Ten werewolves in human form head to the large table, seven of whom are men. Stark sits on the side, while two Elders take the ends. The others sit wherever there’s an empty seat. Three of them look close to Stark’s and my brother’s age, and one seems to be a bit younger—maybe a teenager—who I assume turned early. Then there’s Kiya, who I met two days ago, along with one other Elder woman. Next to her, the last girl watches down the table; she looks like we’d be the same age. I take the last empty seat with a place setting across from Stark, next to Graden.

Stark lifts a glass to his lips, giving me a clear view of his bare forearm, which is not what I expected. I need to focus on my goal, not on whether Stark is marked.

“So, as I was saying.” I angle my chair toward Graden.

The others stay quiet. Like it matters.

“We eat, then we talk,” he says in a hushed yet deep whisper to me.

I nod back out of politeness. It’s not that I don’t respect the Elders, I just hate their ways. Especially now that it’s affecting where I live.

The table is already filled with food. Family-style, everyone reaches and passes large dishes around. Kiya and the other younger women start a conversation with everyone about the weather. I keep my eyes on my plate, but the heat of others’ eyes on me never stops. Not until Stark steps away from the table for a moment to go to the door. When he comes back, three of the men and Kiya get up to talk off to the side. Pack business, I assume.

I refuse to listen to thoughts while I sit here, or I might break even more. I manage to eat the small amount of the salad I’ve taken; well-cooked meat never sits right in my stomach.

The Elder woman and the one next to her start to clear the table. I stand to pick up some of the plates. No need to feel useless here. I carry them into the large kitchen next to the table.

“Oh, thank you, dear. Don’t hurt your arms lifting all that,” the Elder lady—what is her name? I should know it—smiles down at me. Even the women in our pack are six feet tall.

I don’t say a thing as I place them down beside her.

The plate in her hand drops into the sink. All eyes in the room turn to us. Damn it. I have to stay relaxed. She shakes her head and picks it up again. I tune back in just in case.

Old hands. The water must be too hot.

I drown her out again and make my way to the table.

“Now, Aloka, what would you like to discuss?” Graden asks, his tone endearing.

“Thank you. I want to talk about going back to my home.” I keep my voice steady, though I want to yell at them. Tell them they can’t just take me from my home against my own wishes.

“I’m sure we can arrange for you to gather your things.” The other Elder down the long-ass table, Otis, steps into the conversation. He has the same gray hair, but his is longer, down to his shoulders, and a thick moustache hides his mouth.

“No.” The muscles in my legs tense on the chair. Stark’s blue eyes glow at me as he takes a seat again, but I focus on my task. “That would be appreciated, but I mean I’d like to live in my family’s home. Stark doesn’t need me in his space. I have no problem being on my own.”

“Stark? Do you have an issue with Aloka staying here?” Otis sits tall, and the words come across more as an order.

“Of course not, Elder.” Stark bows his head.

I roll my eyes at him. Like a puppy, he can’t even stand up for himself. Who in the spirits would want a random woman dropped on their doorstep, let alone one they think is a risk to them all? It’s not like he and my brother were close. Pratt moved with the East pack’s cohort, and Stark runs the South.

Graden’s face softens. “Dear Aloka, why would you stay alone in that small cabin of yours? According to your brother’s letter, he requested for you to stay here with Stark Lamont in the event that anything were to happen to him.”

“As I said at the reading this morning, I’m certain that Pratt never would have written that.” Beyond certain. He never mentioned anything about writing it. I know Stark is thirty-one and an Alpha, but nothing more about him. If Pratt were less protective, he would have let me be and maybe the pack would have left me alone.

“It is signed and marked; this is not up for discussion. If you want to gather the rest of your things, then we will make arrangements.” Graden’s voice makes all the necks in the room twist in our direction. I am all about creating attention tonight.