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Elizabeth Whittaker, mother of two boys Sam had saved, approached, her normally cheerful face set in somber lines. “Niko.”
Taking her hands, he reminded himself he had a pack to tend to. He’d have to deal with the weight of his thoughts later.
* * * * *
THEY’D ALMOST HIT THEtwo-hour mark.
Other than the mess with Melanie, the evening had been uneventful so far, but Zee had met so many people, their faces were a blur, their words all blending together.
Several Nightdwellers were in attendance as well as a fair number of humans, either those who were closely aligned with someone in the pack, or they were parents of children rescued by Sam.
From these, Zee sensed true sincerity when they offered words of sympathy. The Nightdweller Fae weren’t as easy to read as humans, but scent never lied and there was nothing those spoke of enmity in the people she met.
From the Therians, Zee estimated that perhaps one in four actually meant half of what they said.
The rest were all coolly polite and kept their comments short. A few of the women gave her hard looks, but with Shale at her side, all were polite, even if the courtesy was hard-edged. None, however, dared imply anything—not after Melanie.
Zee was exhausted. There was still likely another hour or two before she could leave without looking rude.
During a lull in the waves of people approaching her, she toed her ballet flats off and muttered, “I’m so damn glad I didn’t bother with fancy shoes.”
Shale chuckled and offered her a glass of wine, which she took with gratitude.
As she sipped, she looked out over the mass of people.
Surrounded so much power, the hair on her arms stood up straight. It had been that way almost from the beginning. She was used to being around powerful shifters—P-town had more than a few. But they rarely gathered in such large groups, nor did they tend to linger so long.
This was unlike any gathering she’d attended before. So many people.
Some hated her. She could feel it, even if nobody had said it outright.
Gatherings for Therians could range from formal to informal, varying from one pack to the other, something she’d learned in the years since she’d left Greylock.
Greylock had been an endless gauntlet. Under the leadership of a cruel alpha bloated withself-importance, hedemandedhis pack attend him in full formal attirefor the most mundane reasons. Once she’d turned fifteen, she’d been considered mature enough to attend such pack gatherings—in formal dress.
Her formal attire had been a gown in drab gray that made her skin look sallow. It fit poorly, leaving her looking dumpy, a form of camouflage that had made it easier to blend into the background.
Zee had spent as much time living in the shadows as she could while a member of Greylock, the ghost of her father’s warnings still an echo in the back of her mind. Eyes down, little wolf.
She’d kept her eyes down—when it was expected. But she’d never stopped watching, not lowered her guard.
Once she’d come to North Carolina to attend college, she’d found a different sort of pack.
She hadn’t known what to make the people at first. Everything in Appalachia, the heart of the broader, sprawling pack of the same name, the territories stretching from New England to Georgia, was different. She hadn’t faced ugly sneers or had bigger, older males try to intimidate her into submitting, battles she’d faced on the regular in Greylock. And the children... here, kids smile
Gone were the rigid ‘courtly’ rules where a power-mad alpha pretended to be king. Jameson Whelan had reigned, no doubt, but his people had loved him, followed him out of respect.
It was obvious that the love and respect given to Jameson had passed onto his son, although there were older pack members who spoke to him almost as they had a decade ago—like they were dealing with a young man who was still coming into his own.
To Zee’s instincts, and what she knew of Therian history, that could mean trouble. If any of the younger, strong Therians saw it as a sign that their elders didn’t view Niko as worthy of their trust, he’d face challenges until he made it clear he was strong enough to hold the position as Prime—and that would require killing.
But at the same time, it could mean nothing.
It could also mean you’re being paranoid,she told herself.
She was on edge, had been all evening, but over the past hour, it had gotten worse.
... trouble.
