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Fierce.
“Well, it’s a good thing he’shereso that we can ask him, isn’t it?” Before Eric could react, the man stood and raised his voice. “Let him in.”
The wooden double doors to the study opened from the outside. Then, as if, out of some bad television show drama, Lukka strolled in through the doorway, head held high.
Eric struggled to smother his disgust—at least out of the guise of politeness. Lukka would smell his dislike, regardless.
The man was young. He had an almost pretty face, set by two blue eyes and a mop of curly blond hair. Eric figured that he’d seenBarbie Dollswith more spunk, though rumors claimed the man could hold his own, despite his looks.
But he was young.Tooyoung for Eric’s liking. Even worse, he was arrogant and seemed to think that his youth entitled him to exert his will outside of his pack. To turn his back on the old ways. To steal.
Upstart little tyke,Eric thought as the man walked past him. In his day, arrogance like that got rewarded with a beating. To submission.
“Loreck,” Lukka called by way of greeting, moving to clasp the older Alpha on the shoulder.
Loreck didn’t return the favor.He only stood back, keeping the desk between the two of them to create a distance that spoke of the tension between them more than any words could.
“We have a problem,” Loreck began, in a firm tone. “Notonlyis it your constant encroachment onto my land, or the way that pack of yours has been using our resources without permission…”
He let the words hang for a second—judging the young pup’s reaction. In the years of the old Alpha, one might say that the Eislanders and Black Mountain wolves had existed…peacefully.
They still had their squabbles back then, but more importantly, there had been respect. Respect based on the old laws—which plainly said to keep your people on the right side of boundary lines or suffer the damn consequences.
Lukka changed all that. He constantly tested Loreck’s patience and allowed his people to slip onto their territory unchecked. He had too many mouths to feed and not enough supplies with which to do so. Everyone knew it. Even worse, there were rumors that the bastard had sold off parts of hisownterritory—farmed them out for humans to develop formoney.
It was a disgusting thought, one Eric doubted. No lycan could be so damn selfish. So greedy. So undeserving of the mantle of a leader.
But actions spoke louder than words. Why else would Black Mountain wolves be forced to fish intheirrivers or hunt beyondtheirown forests?
Eric knew that it was only reluctance on Loreck’s part to start a real conflict that the man didn’t respond to the trespassing with vicious retaliation. But there was only so much patience in the world, and Loreck’s was quickly running out.
But, if being confronted with the evidence of his own arrogance fazed Lukka any, the man didn’t show it.
“Hmm,” he murmured thoughtfully. “I hadn’t heard.”
The man had balls.Eric could give him that much. Though, he had even more respect for the fact that Loreck didn’t reach across the table to smack the young pup on the ass like he so painfully deserved.
“Oh,” Loreck replied in an equally casual tone. “And I’m sure that you didn’t hear of the murder of one of my men, either?”
Lukka visibly flinched, blue eyes narrowing.
“I did,” he said, nodding his head. “That’s why I’m here—to offer my…condolences.”
“Condolences.” Loreck scoffed, running a hand over the gray-tinged brown stubble on his chin. “Then maybe you can tell me why one ofyourrogues killed him?”
Another emotion flashed across Lukka’s gaze, too quickly for Eric to get a good read on it. Excitement. Fear? Satisfaction? Whatever it was faded in a flash.
“A chilling accusation,” the pup said. “Do you have proof?”
Loreck snapped his fingers, and on cue, one of the men by the door came forward to drop a single object onto the table. Eric hissed, his nostrils wrinkling with the stench. It was a knife, smeared with blood, days old.
The insult couldn’t be understated. To kill another lycan while in wolf form was one thing—grisly, but honorable. Accepted. To utilize a crude weapon and stealth? Despicable. At least Jamal’s killer identified himself by leaving the blade behind. From it drifted a faint, musky odor as characteristic to any wolf as fingerprints were to humans.
“We think Jamal tried to fight back,” Loreck explained gruffly. “He ultimately failed... However—” He reached down to trail a finger along the edge of the blade. “He still managed to draw his attacker’s blood...”
So he wanted evidence? This was it—a scent trail was just as damning as a signed confession.
But Lukka seemed ready for it. The man didn’t even have the decency to look shocked.
