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At the front door, a barefoot man in a Dead Kennedys T-shirt and blue jeans greeted us. He looked to be somewhere between my age and Denny’s. As long as I ignored the short, punkish crop of his hair and the fang earring dangling from his left lobe, I could spy a resemblance between the two of them.
“Mikey.” Denny offered his hand for the man to shake. “Thanks for having us.”
“Heya, Denny.” Mikey took Denny’s hand, then used it as leverage to pull him into a bear hug. “Good to see you again. It’s been too fuckin’ long.”
“Dunno about that,” Denny grumbled, shrugging out of the hug.
“Oh, shut up.” Mikey raised his chin to me. “This your friend?”
“Client,” Denny corrected. It seemed to be an important distinction for him. Just when I thought he was finally warming up to me. I suppressed an eye roll. There went all my hopes that he’d be sending me birthday invites when this was all done.
Denny moved between us, brokering the introduction.
“Mikey, meet Xander Miller, alpha of the Evergreen, Massachusetts pack. Miller, this is Michael, my little brother. Leader of the Firebend Ridge pack.”
“Thanks for opening your home to us. Means a lot.” I struck my hand out like Denny had. “And it’s always a pleasure to meet another alpha, of course.”
Mikey shook my hand with a good, firm grip, then smirked and pulled me into a hug as well.
“I’m not an alpha, actually,” he said, releasing me. With a jerk of his head, he beckoned for us to follow him inside. “I’m a sigma like Denny here.” He elbowed Denny in the ribs. “If it’s alpha business you’re interested in, you’ll want Shayla. My mate.”
Mikey led us into the kitchen and indicated a small woman with a mess of tattoos up and down her arms. Her hair was cut in a dark, blunt bob.
“Welcome!” the woman at the sink called over her shoulder. “Call me Shay.”
“You lead the pack together?” I asked. It was a little unorthodox, but unorthodox seemed to suit these two. They were the polar opposites of Denny, with his hard-ass vibes, though they all looked like they shopped at the same army surplus store, just for very different reasons.
“Mikey is just face of the operation,” Shay said with a grin. “I’m the brains.”
“And the looks,” Mikey added. He moved next to her, bumping her away from the sink with his hip and taking over the dishwashing. “The kid sulking in the corner there is our son. Say hello, Mace, and go shake the man’s hand.”
“Hello,” Mace said sternly, stepping forward. His voice was uncannily deep, with a rusty, door-hinge quality to it. I smiled, remembering when my own voice had changed. I would’ve been around his age. It was around the same time hair started sprouting from my chest.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mace.” I shook his hand, politely choosing to ignore the way he tried to crush my palm. Hormones were rough on any kid riding the waves of puberty. Doubly so for wolves. “Nice to meet all of you, in fact.”
“Oh, you haven’t met all of us yet!” a female voice called out.
From the hall beyond the kitchen, another figure emerged. She wore leather pants with matching boots and jacket—a look I didn’t often see on women her age. Her hair was stark white, cut short and spiky. She looked a little like if Mrs. Claus spent her free time between Christmases riding on the back of a Harley. Her arms were laden with two brown bags of groceries.
“Ellie Kerry,” she introduced herself, bustling over to the kitchen island. “You’ll be Xander Miller, I suspect?”
“I am,” I confirmed, glancing over my shoulder. At this rate, punk rock Santa would be next to emerge from the woodwork.
Ellie deposited the groceries on the counter, then approached Denny and me.
“I suppose I should thank you, Xander. It’s not often my oldest finds a reason to come home.” Her eyes narrowed at Denny. “At least, not one he can’t slither out of.”
“Mom—”
Any further protests from Denny were smothered as she threw her arms around his waist. This hug, he didn’t manage to wriggle away from.
When she finally released him, she raised a hand and smacked him upside the head.
“Denny Kerry, you relentless little shit! Has it been six years, or seven? I’ve lost count. How dare you spend so much time away from us?”
Normally, hearing a parent talk to their kid like that would have made me uncomfortable. It should have reminded me of how Ma talked to one of us when she was pissed off, or how Felicity’s mother talked to Felicity at pretty much any time, regardless of her mood.
But there was an undeniable fondness in Ellie’s tone that softened the blow of her words. Even as she called Denny every name under the sun, there was no mistaking the love in her voice.
