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She lifted her warm brown eyes. “Ivy. My father likes to call me Poison Ivy, but don’t tell anyone. I’d rather no one call me that name again.”
“Did you want to come with us?”
Austin opened his door and got in. The car rocked a little and he sighed, turning around. “I’m Austin Cole. I run a small pack and they’re all good men. You have nothing to worry about in my group; they’re just a little rough around the edges because they’ve been on their own for a number of years. I’m very selective, and so far, it’s just my brothers and me. What do they call you?”
She clammed up.
“Her name is Ivy,” I said softly.
Then I turned around in my seat and wondered exactly what had changed regarding slavery. We had essentially just traded my mother’s life for a man’s daughter. No one was fighting it, which evidently meant these people played by rules, even though they still had free will. Austin had explained that women preferred to stay in packs because it offered them the protection they needed. Shifters who were panthers or other animal types didn’t have to be concerned with these things as much as the wolves because of our inherent instincts. After seeing how those men had behaved in the bathroom, I could see his point.
“Jerky?”
She glanced at the overflowing plastic bag in the floor and reached in to pull out a stick. “Love these,” she said. “Got any of the spicy peppered flavor? Something with a kick?”
I leaned around and rifled through the bag, then I glanced at her hands. “Ooo, I love that color polish,” I said. “Turquoise or green?”
“It has an iridescent quality, so it’s a little of both. I brought it with me if you want to borrow it later.”
Austin clucked his tongue and revved up the engine. “Women,” he murmured.
“Everlong” by the Foo Fighters blasted on the radio and we headed back home. Austin kept the air conditioner frosty and I reclined my seat back, kicked off my shoes, and put my feet on the dash. Austin sang under his breath and although the music was loud, he still outsang the shit out of that band.
* * *
Austin hadIvy’s bags slung over his shoulder when he unlocked the front door to his house.
“How many brothers do you have?” Ivy asked timidly.
“I got five in my pack. And do me a favor,” he said, twisting his body halfway around. “Stay away from Jericho.”
“Which one is he?” Ivy tugged the end of her long braid, which was wrapped around her right shoulder.
“The one with the hickeys all over him.”
I didn’t know what to make of Jericho, but he seemed like kind of guy you wouldn’t want your little sister hanging around. Although I still wasn’t certain how Austin felt about Ivy. She sure didn’t look like a little sister, and he wasn’t blind. I saw the way he appraised her when she got out of the car.
The door swung open and the sound of men filled the house.
Austin tucked his arm around Ivy and escorted her through the main entrance. She slipped out of her flip-flops and leaned into him.
I shut the door and felt a burning coal sitting in the pit of my stomach, and it wasn’t hunger. We’d made a four-hour detour on the way home to eat lunch and pick up a few things at the store for Ivy. Her father hadn’t allowed her to pack very much—just a couple of bags of clothes.
The sun hung low in the sky and the smell of barbecue made my mouth water.
Maizy was sitting outside in the atrium on a bench, blowing bubbles from a wire she dipped in a tall glass. I walked past Austin and Ivy and slid open the door.
Denver turned around, wearing an apron of a nude woman’s body.
“In front of her?” I scolded.
He sniffed and rubbed his nose as a plume of smoke poured out of the grill and into his face. “What’s the big deal? She’s a chick.”
“And why is she holding a wire? She’ssix.”
“Beer bubbles. Damn, where have you been? You didn’t play with those as a kid?”
I took the glass from her along with the sharp metal object. “No, we bought bubbles at the store for a dollar.”
