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With a tight-lipped grin I don’t mean shot behind me, I turn the knob, shove my shoulder into the door, and let myself inside. Dropping my suitcases to the floor, I used the heel of my shoe to slam the door shut behind me.
Hit the road, Jack, I think to myself, as I glance up in time to notice a pretty female she-wolf standing up from her place at the corner of the couch across from me. She’s a few inches taller than me, with a finely-boned, delicate body, and a face that’s quietly beautiful. Her mahogany-colored waves spill down her back, rustling gently as she takes a few hesitant steps toward me.
My wolf barks a warning a second too late. Thanks, girl. A little head’s up that we weren’t alone would’ve been nice before I shut the door. Too later, and now my wolf has reared up, rumbling as she watches the strange female in alarm.
What the—
Since ‘who the hell are you?’ seems pretty damn rude, I press my lips together so I don’t just blurt it out.
The first thing I notice beyond the obvious is that she has no discernible scent of her own. The second? Her aura is… different. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever sensed before. In its own way, it’s as powerful as an alpha, with the gentleness of an omega, plus the devotion of a beta wolf all mixed into one.
The third thing?
Her eyes.
They’re silver. Seriously. And I mean “gleaming like a freshly polished quarter” silver. It’s kinda spooky, too. I’ve seen shifters with dark gold eyes, bright gold eyes, honey gold eyes, hazel eyes, brown eyes, even a few rare ones who have a striking blue color… but silver? Never.
Okay, then.
She smiles. It’s a welcoming smile, but that doesn’t make me feel any better about how she affects my wolf.
“Hi. I’m Elizabeth Howell. Welcome to my cabin.”
“Your cabin? I thought—” I remember the smirk on Walker’s face before I slammed the door in it. “Shit. Am I in the wrong place?”
“No, no. You’re in the right spot. I have a spare bedroom I don’t use, and the Alpha decided it would be yours.” She hesitates for a moment. “You are Ruby, aren’t you?”
Oh, fuck no.
“It’s Gemma, actually.”
Her brow furrows. “But aren’t you the Alpha’s—”
Nope. Nope. Nope. If I had it my way, I wouldn’t be the Alpha’s anything; at least, not her Alpha’s.
“I’m Gemma Swann. I guess you can say I’m visiting the Wolf District.”
From the way her smile dips, I can tell that she’s still struggling with my name. Oh, well. Just like how I haven’t been back here in twenty-five years, the name I was born with has nothing to do with who I am now. My mom shucked it, choosing to call me Gemma Swann, and that’s who I’ll always be.
Except, as I have that thought, I realize something that I probably should’ve realized a couple of weeks ago.
I’m not just Gemma Swann anymore. I’m Gemma Wolfson. Supes don’t make it legal the same way that humans do for the simple reason that, once we’re bonded mates, there is no such thing as divorce. Who needs a priest or a Justice of the Peace when the Luna’s blessing ties two shifters closer than any piece of paper?
“Sorry. I’m newly mated. It’s Wolfson now. Gemma Wolfson.”
Her pale eyes go impossibly lighter. It’s actually kind of eerie as she meets my gaze, forcing me to lock eyes with her if only because a dominant wolf would never act submissive if they could help it. Usually, a lower-ranked wolf daring to stare right at an alpha is a challenge, but I can sense that that’s not what she’s doing.
I don’t know what she is. She’s not an alpha, and as delicate as she appears, she’s no omega, either. She’s… different.
My inner wolf rears back, ears flat against her skull as she continues to gauge this Elizabeth. A pack animal who lives and dies by the hierarchy of rank, she doesn’t like different.
She’s not the only one, either.
“Wolfson? The East Coast Wolfsons?”
My eyebrows wing up. “You know them?”
“I didn’t always live in the Wolf District,” is all she says about that before she shocks me by adding, “Henry Wolfson was the Alpha in Accalia.”
