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“Okay…” Will said.
“I’d like you to meet him.”
“When?”
“Now. He’s waiting for us in the parlor.”
“I didn’t know we had a parlor; which one of the concrete rooms is that?”
It turned out to be the concrete room where the SUCU people met. Parlor was a stretch. It had some chairs and a rug but so did the warden’s office at Rikers. Anyway. Will wasn’t in the mood to meet new people. Especially not new wolves. He was still far from coming to terms with the disappointment of his own father being a mad cannibal. Meeting another one felt like more of a very bad thing.
"You can come of your own accord, or I can lead you down on a leash, pup. Which one will it be?”
Maddox had not left him with much in the way of options. Will had chosen to come of his own accord. But the second he walked in, his gut was telling him to walk the fuck back out again.
The guy Maddox wanted him to meet was standing dead center in the room, controlling the space with a stiff military bearing. The moment they walked in, his eyes locked on Will. Will found it very difficult to return the stare. It felt like a challenge, and a challenge felt like a bad idea.
He had a deep dark gaze, and the kind of eyes that seemed to be perpetually staring through whatever they were looking at. He was wearing dark camo trousers and a black vest. His shoulders were broad, his arms sculpted by endless lifting. His bare arms were covered in a plethora of tattoos of various origins, wild creatures performing even wilder acts. He looked like a mercenary rock star who’d sold his soul to the war machine. At well over six feet, he cut a very imposing figure, the sort of person criminals crossed the street to avoid, the sort of man presidents bowed to without ever knowing why. Oh, and his hair. His fucking hair was cut in a sort of GI Joe flat top. Will couldn’t work out if he looked more like an 80’s action hero or something out of a manga. The answer was probably both.
“Yeah. I’m not interested. Thanks. But no thanks. Have a safe trip back to the army surplus store.”
William was being ruder than usual. Maddox could smell his fear. He imagined Henry could too. Will had been doing a lot of growing of late, but in the presence of the pack master he suddenly seemed small again, young and uncertain, depending on bravado.
“This is Henry Riker, and he is the last pack master in North America,” Maddox said. “You will call him master, and you will speak to him with respect.”
“I thought I called you master.”
“You can call us both master.”
“Oh.” Will said. “OH!” he continued, lifting his brows. “You mean like a three…”
“I do not mean like a three anything,” Maddox corrected him.
“Why is this happening, exactly?”
“You need protection from Ivan, and some way out of the cage. Master Henry will provide that for you. He can also provide you with the instruction and education you need in the ways of becoming a good wolf citizen. A vampire cannot teach a wolf the way a wolf can. Just as every fledgling needs a maker, you need a master.”
“I really don’t,” Will said. “I’m not interested in another master. I’ve got you. You’re all I need.”
“Very sweet, boy, but if I turn my back and you murder someone and eat them, then…”
“Oh what, I go back to prison?”
“You die.”
The pack master said his first words to Will. Two short, heavy, threatening words.
“Fuck off,” Will laughed. He looked back at Maddox. “Yeah, I don’t need this guy. He’s a fucking joke. I’m going to my cage. He better be gone when you next let me out. For his sake.” With that, Will left the room.
Maddox glanced over at the pack master to see what his reaction was. He had attempted to warn Henry of the work ahead, but there was no substitute for actually meeting Will. The man’s expression had not changed in the slightest. He had clearly perfected the art of the inscrutable stare.
“He’s a little shit,” Henry said when they heard the door to Will’s cage slam shut upstairs.
“Yes,” Maddox agreed.
“Most wolves are raised to be part of the pack from the time they’re born. He’s full grown. He’s going to be a mouthful. You have to be prepared for some bloodshed. His and likely mine. Do you have a house surgeon?”
“I have one on call.”
