Page 49 of Bound

“Any day now.” Dipping down, Dallas pressed a kiss to her belly.

“This is not going to turn out the way you’re hoping,” Lacey deadpanned, shooting a pointed look at the cat tree, where the artist formerly known as Godiva perched staring out at the room.

“Aww, sweetheart… we let Fancy choose her own name.”

“You brainwashed her with barbecued chicken from The Spoke and that Prancy Fancy song you got Hayden to sing on her ukulele.”

I coughed. Lacey glared. Fancy, short for Fancy Feast, had briefly been named Godiva when Lacey and my brother had adopted her a year ago. Much to Lacey’s annoyance, Dallas’s name had stuck. She was pretty much the world’s most adorable cat, with soot-black fur, gigantic bottle-green anime eyes she had no hope of growing into, and her own Twitter account where she posted about her favorite barbecue specials at The Rusty Spoke every #Caturday. Usually chicken, because, you know, cats.

“Switzerland.” I held up both hands. “As her favorite cat-uncle, you know I have to stay neutral.” Plus, Hayden’s chorus was unfortunately catchy. Last time I checked it was up to ninety thousand likes on YouTube.

“Greer, get over here,” August called from the leather sectional, barely looking up from the flat screen where he and Lacey’s mom, Juliet, were engaged in some sort of zombie hunter game.

Juliet Blair had only recently learned we were all shapeshifters. After Lacey had been changed into a werewolf by Dallas their senior year of high school, Juliet’s memories had been altered. Last year, Lacey and River had negotiated for her and several hundred other family members of Bitten wolves to have their true memories restored. Juliet’s boyfriend, Simon, sipped a glass of wine, stroking her back while she and August took out a horde of virtual zombies. Simon was a werewolf and trauma surgeon at the new teaching hospital that had just opened up in Austin. His relationship with us required walking a careful line with pack leadership. Medical staff were in short supply in the shifter world, something I could attest to after having broken bones set by the local veterinarian more times than I could count. When werewolf physiology meant you healed from a gunshot wound within hours, you couldn’t exactly walk into the emergency room without raising questions, and blood samples could be risky if they fell into the wrong hands. The North Austin pack may have hated Simon’s association with us, but they couldn’t afford to lose him. And for the moment, he preferred to stay where he was.

“Duty calls.” Topher let his index finger trail along the inside of my wrist, making my skin tingle with awareness in its wake. My wolf stirred, hungry, wanting.

“Are Ethan and Hayden here yet?” I loaded up a plate with chicken skewers, carrot sticks and fried coconut shrimp, which, ugh, was delicious. I was going to be in a food coma by nightfall.

“They had to close first. Should be over in a bit. You want to help me man the grill?” Dallas picked up a plate of meat and jerked his chin towards the bags of buns.

Grabbing them, I followed him out onto the back patio where he kept his combination grill and smoker. We’d all chipped in to get it for him as a wedding present when he and Lacey had tied the knot back in June. You would think that with the amount of time my brother spent smoking meat at The Rusty Spoke, he’d be sick of it by the end of the day, but Dallas was never happier than when he was feeding people.

Brody was already out back, throwing a chewed-up tennis ball with Major beneath the giant live oaks. Seated in one of the large white Adirondack chairs, pale eyes holding a distant look they only ever got when the subject strayed to Ellie Crowe, was River.

Last year after figuring out we were all werewolves, Hayden’s sister had been given the choice to be turned or have her memories erased. River had been the one ordered by Guillermo to do it. While River swore it had been nothing, that Elliewas nothing to him, his denials were matched only by Hayden’s rage level whenever they were in the same room.

She so wasn’t shipping #Rivellie the way Dallas and I were.

Kicking out the chair beside River’s, I sank into it. “Thought you couldn’t make it.”

“My leave got approved at the last minute.” A beat. “Things up there are a bit tense.”

I waited. River didn’t elaborate.

“No spoilers,” Dallas called, slinging hamburger patties and all-beef hotdogs onto his monster-sized grill with the precision of a surgeon. “I haven’t read your new chapter yet. But you seriously cannot kill off that hot brooding fae guy with the chip on his shoulder—who we all know is based off me, by the way.”

“Um, okay?”

“Just saying. Lacey follows your account, too. And I don’t want to upset her now because of the baby.”

Like we didn’t know what big white wolf would be sulking in the corner eating his wife’s pink lemonade cupcakes after making her peel the wrappers off so he didn’t get paper in his delicate little fangs if I killed off Dagnar Silverleaf.

I took a swallow of iced tea, watching Major’s tail flag happily as he ran back to Brody. River tilted his head, saying nothing.

Frowning, I squinted out into the yard. “Um, I’m almost afraid to ask, but what the hell is he doing to Major?”

On cue, Brody hurled the tennis ball across the yard. Major bolted after it in an explosion of golden fur. He’d barely plucked the tennis ball from the grass, darting a single look to where the rest of us were waiting up on the porch when Brody pried it from his mouth and hurled it in the opposite direction (towards the street, mind you) so fast you would have thought we were all a bunch of convicted puppy killers.

Clearly the doga was not having a calming effect. Or at least, not on Brody. Major, as usual, seemed to be channeling his inner Zen Master.

Dallas stabbed the tongs at our youngest brother. “This is what I’m talking about, dude. Not exactly paying it forward in the karma department.”

River let his head thump back against the chair. At my raised eyebrow, he sighed. “Look, so Brody called me up a few months ago about pack business. Long and short of it, we got into a shouting match… and I may have possibly implied I was going to mind-wipe Major.”

I practically spit tea all over the porch. “You didn’t.”

“And make him believe he’s a cat.”